It’s not sunny but it’s not raining, the earth is beginning to dry under clouds and all the plants and soil are nicely moist. We walk to the river through the meadow and stand where we always stand with the view to Death Bridge and the cheerful meadow on the other bank. No wind today, just stillness. We walk past Frank’s bench and the spot where we planned the wedding. Change is afoot. Our plan is under construction and full of disruption. And that is okay. The bench is there, the water level is high, the perennials I planted are in bloom but fading, so they look organic among the weeds springing up around them. I am letting go of expectations and accepting change. We cross the trestle bridge over the river and into the meadow and there is the lovely Queen Anne’s Lace overtaking the grass in hundreds of blooms. I stop at one, because there is a ladybeetle crawling across and into and up and around it, and I relax and make friends with this funny insect treading the intricate lace. The beetle crawls up and over the lace and onto a piece of straw and out to its edge, I think, now it will fly or fall off, but it doesn’t. The beetle goes under and walks back up the straw to bury itself once again in the lace. There is no cliff. There is redirection. Surprise.The little planets of buttonbush are in bloom and also coming apart. The tiger lilies too. I love to watch the plants in all their cycles. We cross back over the trestle and find the purple startle of thistle. Let everything arrange itself in its own order and time. My youngest comes home, late afternoon from her internship, tired and needing some food and some listening and I offer both gladly. My son is giving a talk tonight and I attend that, it’s a pleasure to be in this day, in acceptance and gratitude for what I do know: how to attend to all my own passions and needs and also to be helpful and generous when my love and attention are needed by someone and then I have plenty to offer. Today I am in the mood of a purple thistle. Burst into bloom.