it's for this...

Ed has never had children and has never wanted them. He makes no secret of it and would announce it to the world if asked. At the same time, he cares deeply for my kids and grandkids. His level of concern and interest in their lives is about as high as it gets and when they ask him to do something, he'll oblige, whether or not it's convenient. I'll never forget the days when Snowdrop was a wee little thing and she would ask him to be a pretend groom as she played the bride and "marched down the aisle" with him. Nothing about that scene aligns with Ed's take on life and yet every time she asked, he was there, by her side. 

Ed's antipathy toward being a parent is understandable. As a child, he had a rough go of it with his sibs. And, a population explosion worries him (he cares about the planet way more than the average person). Too, he cannot understand why someone would want to burden her or his life with the monumental job of rearing a child. "It's so much work!" -- he marvels as I chase a kid, fix a meal for her, or clean up yet another mess, all the while telling the culprit to tone it down with the noise level. Why would anyone fill their lives with all this additional work and worry? 

Why indeed...

In the last few days, I had the answer before me, as clear as could be: as I sat across the table from my younger daughter over lunch last Friday, listening to her daughter chatter away about her Camp experience, and then today, as I sat with my older daughter over breakfast, while her son munched on a brownie and gave me a wickedly sweet smile, I thought -- it's for this. You do it for this. For a chance at this perfect moment when your kids are grown, maybe (but not necessarily) with kids of their own, sharing a few moments over a meal or a coffee with you, in the full bloom of their adulthood, beautiful in every way, while you sit back in a state of total happiness. Akin to childbirth only without the pain! 

 

In other news, the lily snipping count did go down today to a mere 615. This is good news. It's not that I want the lily season to be over, but I have too many mosquito bites to be happy about snipping away for hours on end every morning. At the level of today's count, I am content. The lilies are radiant, and the cleanup job isn't overwhelming. 

("for this is Flora's holiday... whilst you express your jollity, nymphs and shepherds come away!")

("when are you going to feed me??")

 

 

(you are so pretty! don't hide!) 

 

 

 

 

(a lily, a frog, and a clematis) 

 

 

(a lily and a frog, without the clematis) 

 

 

From snipping, I went straight to breakfast with my daughter and Sparrow. He had had a doc's appointment and they needed a ride back home (their car is in the shop). I got a lovely few minutes at a cafe with them for my efforts!

From there, I went to Madison Sourdough. Strange to be picking up breakfast treats after breakfast, right? But the fact is, I am slated to be on a low fiber diet this week (old people's stuff) and so I said to myself -- well that's good news! I can chomp away at all those croissants and cinnamon rolls guilt free! Load 'em up please! 

 

(no, no bread today; though it sure looks pretty!) 

 

 

There is nothing so decadent as having a croissant for lunch. With milky coffee. I tell you, life is so good at the moment. 

To keep up my spirits I have cut back on news reading/watching.  For a while I told myself -- I need to know. Ignorance is not going to get me through a tough period. But the level of anxiety that comes with reading the details of news stories as they appear in mainstream media is too high. If I'm going to go down, I'll do it in blissful ignorance. Just the basics, please. Keep those gory details for the history books, so that future generations can learn what foolishness lead us to where we are today.

I return to my flower fields in the afternoon. A few weeds to pick, yes, always that, but mostly to just look. Why clean the beds if I never give myself time to admire them in their best dress? 

 

(deeply pink with a hint of lavender and a yellow throat) 

 

 

(ruffled butter for sure, in a double lily!) 

 

 

 (it's called a spider lily for a reason)

 

 

It is nothing short of a miracle to have a lily bloom so perfectly, with petals that are pert and so pretty, and stamens that beg pollinators to come calling -- only to disappear overnight. Most everyone associates a fading wilted flower with demise, sorrow, loss, even death. I can't think of a single poem that finds beauty in a day lily that wilts after just a few daylight hours. But to me, the "take turns" nature of a day lily is nothing short of awesome. Spotlight is on you! show us your best face! And the next day, her sister takes to the stage. And of course, the memory of each beautiful lily remains.

 

(peachy melon, or maybe a rosy apricot?) 

 

 

(a lemon tart, maybe with cream at the edges) 

 

 

(watermelon in golden sunshine) 

 

 

 with so much love...