“To the attentive eye, each moment of the year has its own beauty, and in the same field, it beholds, every hour, a picture which was never seen before, and which shall never be seen again.”

― Ralph Waldo Emerson

This morning, out early into the heat and sun, across the field, passing the meadow, seeing the bright tops of the pink cone flowers and the white tops of the surviving echinacea, I feel cheerful and relaxed as the holiday approaches. The river, overflowed from its bank for months, is finally receding in the heat. The muck is drying up. I pass a lovely last jack-in-the-pulpit, fit for a Georgia O’Keeffe painting. At the brook I stop and watch the sun rippling on the reflection of the leaves. I took many pictures, but the Internet is acting up; I’m not sure they’ll upload now. I work in the yard on my return, pulling weeds, making a space in the front for the second of the crab apples. The sun beats down on my back. My daughter calls, suggests I join her for lunch. Agreed. We have many wedding plans to talk about. So, I make us a lunch and join her at work and we sit outside on the step and catch up. And this is lovely. Except there are details about the wedding planning we don’t agree on. Inevitable. Frustrating. I say my piece. She says hers. We do not have a meeting of the minds. Still, I’m glad for our time together and trust it will some how work out for the best. Then I text a best friend who says exactly what I need to hear as she is very smart and sees everything clearly. This helps me see what I need to do. I have only planned one other wedding: my own. And my mother and I agreed on most things and she said yes to everything I asked for and we didn’t agree on everything and when we disagreed on one thing that meant a lot to her she went to my father who talked to me and helped me see her point of view and I gave in, and I’m sure it was the right thing to do, as I did then, even thought I was a bit difficult about it. Frank and I talked about it at dinner and we’re on the same page and for this I’m grateful and trusting that all will be well. This morning, this beauty, I walked in it, I saw what I needed to see, and I experienced it, and I was there for those moments that will never come again in the lovely woods.