Melony, please know there is no such thing as a comment that's too long :) And as a new mom of two little girls, you've got me tearing up over here right now, imagining the day when they'll both have flown from our nest. Thank you so much for sharing this beautiful reflection on the rhythms of your life right now, and welcome to Dandelion Seeds as well! I'm so glad you're here, and I look forward to sharing new stories with you soon 🤍
I loved about reading all of these rhythms, Sheila, but especially about your coconut oil...what an unexpected way of being able to sense a shift in the seasons 😊 Thanks so much for sharing these with us.
It’s something that wouldn’t change back home, it’s always too cold. Occasionally a heat wave would melt it. Thanks for writing and asking the question 🩵
I wish there was no time limit to live our lives. We should not know the time; that’s how I want to live my life, without boundaries of time.
Whenever you’re involved in something willingly, you don't mind the timing. Hours of time feel like minutes when you are truly involved in something you desire.
Life should be lived with full involvement, without knowing the time. Then you’ve lived your life. Time is an illusion; it is bounded only by the mind.
Time is a limitation. Life should be lived without limitation. There should not be a feeling when you’re born or when you die. ‘Now’ is the only time we should embrace.
100% concur. Time is a human construct which truncates and compartmentalizes our existence, and once I retired, I gained the privilege of most times, ignoring the clock. I strive to live in the now, starting tasks, and completing them, or coming to a place of doneness for that session, before moving to something new. So for me, marking time means completing a cycle, before beginning a new cycle 🌸🌼🌸
In the house where I'm currently living, my bedroom faces southeast. For the first time in my life, I wake up with the sun. My favorite time is just before the sun rises above the hill and trees. My room floods with orange light, which makes me smile.
In the living room, I also feel when it's mid-day. The sun slips around the house, and the room becomes more shadowed and darker.
Yes! This resonates with me so much, Margaret. In our new apartment in Antwerp, our bedroom window faces east, and I've also loved getting to start our days with the sun. Thanks so much for sharing that with us -- there's something that feels so instinctual and right about knowing the time by the ever-changing light 🤍
On the traditional territories of the Lekwungen Peoples, now known as the Songhees and Esquimalt First Nations in what is Victoria,B.C., I walk through nearby Beacon Hill Park at least once a week alert to the shifting of the seasons through the changing leaves, flowers and light. Before I moved here, my favourite season was fall. Last year I realized spring had edged out fall as my fav because in the park, the days unfold in a pastel potpourri of pink and white cherry blossoms, crocus, and daffodil shoots, tulips and others, each bud marking the renewal that spring heralds. Similar to your story, Candace, spring hasn’t fully arrived for me until the camas push up on hillsides in the park. Camassia, a member of the Asparagus family, and the bulbs used by First Nations for food for centuries, turn some of the green hillsides and other grassy areas a subtle mauve. Only after my first glimpse of the camas do I accept that spring is really here. Inevitably as I delight upon my first sighting, some time in April, I find myself imagining generations of Indigenous families harvesting these, a transparency of the past over the present, as if each plant represents one of their ancestors saying hello.
Gayle, I feel like this deserves to be its own essay, it's so rich with detail and history and meaning. Two of my favorite lines were, "each bud marking the renewal that spring heralds" (beautiful!)" and "each plant represents one of their ancestors saying hello," and I especially loved learning about the camassia flowers. This was such a moving homage to the Lekwungen Peoples -- thank you so much for sharing it with us 🤍
Spring comes here when the desert peach blooms. It's a gnarly little bush, not nearly as spectacular as the fruit tree version, yet it's blossoms always alert me that warmer, more settled weather is near at hand. In August, the desert turns golden with rabbitbrush flowers. A type of sage, it covers the western American lands with a yellow carpet that last into mid-October. That's when the winds come to blow all the leaves away, leaving the cottonwoods to stand twisted and gnarled as if being tortured. Snow may wait until November or even December, but the rabbitbrush blooms like clockwork.
This was so beautiful to read, Sue, and from the desert peach to rabbitbrush to cottonwoods, you've now got me wanting to do an entire illustrated essay just dedicated to watching the seasons change in the desert! Thank you for sharing this with us 😊
I know when the warmer seasons are coming because my joints ache less, and my headaches improve. It's happening right now and it is always brilliant when I notice it.
It rains in the winter here. I know spring is coming when the rain stops and I can go on my favorite trail again and reach this magical point on the trail where the sun filters through the trees and shines on the stream. It’s like being at an altar. I wrote about invitations today and loved reading this, Candace!
"It’s like being at an altar." That line just gave me chills, Priya! And I love that the rain is a rhythm that marks the changing of seasons for you. Thank you so much for sharing this 🤍
Yes! Grape hyacinths are another new-to-me flower I've fallen in love with here in Belgium -- over the past few weeks, they've popped up all over in Antwerp, especially in window boxes and flower shops. I think I'm definitely going to have to illustrate one for next week's post :) Thanks so much for your comment, Taimie, I loved reading it! 💜💛
Well thank you so much, Jen! I'm thrilled to hear you love it. I hadn't planned on making it an art download, but now you've got me thinking about it -- watch this space 😊🌸
You might want to consider putting a signature watermark on your art too so when people take it from your social media, it's there in the image itself.
I recognise the arrival of Autumn here in Auckland, by the dipping of temperatures, the stacking of firewood, and the most spectacular sunset skies of orange, pink and mauve 🧡💗💜 Usually it elicits an inner sense of sadness and loss, this year I find it comforting as the external world seems to come more into alignment with the internal world. Summer is no longer taunting me for being in a bubble of hibernation.
This was so lovely to read, Vicki, and I especially love how you touched on both the internal and external rhythms in your life right now, as one season gives way to the next. Thank you so much for taking the time to share it with us, and know I'm wishing you a beautiful autumn 🍂
Lol. I tell time by my miniature horses! Spring is shedding season number one when the winter coat starts coming out in handfuls! All over! Summer is when it’s too hot for what coat is left over so the get body clipped. Again, hair is all over! Fall is shedding season number two when the summer coat sheds out and the winter coat starts growing in and the hair gets longer. Hair kinda still gets everywhere, just not as much. Winter is when they are fuzzy teddy bears with thick hair and finally, no hair on me. We’ve just started shedding right now. Wheeeeeee! 😂
This was such a delightful and surprising rhythm to read about, Sharon, and you had me laughing out loud in some places :) I never expected that miniature horses might be a way of sensing a change in the seasons, but what a fun way to tell time 🐎
Navy darkness is replaced with sun rises, pink and peach, before most others are awake. It's a precious time. Just me, the golden dawn and a cup of tea.
I'm new to this group, forgive me if this comment is too long:
how I tell time.... now
when there's no pause in the rhythm for spring break
when I can rise with the light
and go to bed when I'm tired
when there's no spring practices, concerts, or conferences.
but instead
texts of;
"Hey mom, look at the view out my window!"
from the East coat, the Pacific Northwest, and the sunsets over the Rockies.
I now tell time by
creation's witness alone
of birdsong and buds
of days growing lighter
comparing spring snows and spring rains
with my newly grown and flown Beloveds
this new way of telling time is hopeful and bittersweet.
Melony, please know there is no such thing as a comment that's too long :) And as a new mom of two little girls, you've got me tearing up over here right now, imagining the day when they'll both have flown from our nest. Thank you so much for sharing this beautiful reflection on the rhythms of your life right now, and welcome to Dandelion Seeds as well! I'm so glad you're here, and I look forward to sharing new stories with you soon 🤍
As a nonnative in the country I live in and climate change this is becoming harder.
But temperature is one, when my coconut oil is solid = cold and winter 🥶 When my coconut oil is liquid = hot and summer 🥵
Irises 🪻 come at the end of winter along with almond blossom 🌸 (originally would’ve been spring).
The sky is a light blue 🩵 in summer and a dark blue in winter 💙
The sea 🌊 is dark & freezing cold in winter and warm, shimmering & transparent summer.
Rain comes in the shoulder seasons, but as we’re in a big drought it’s less reliable.
I loved about reading all of these rhythms, Sheila, but especially about your coconut oil...what an unexpected way of being able to sense a shift in the seasons 😊 Thanks so much for sharing these with us.
It’s something that wouldn’t change back home, it’s always too cold. Occasionally a heat wave would melt it. Thanks for writing and asking the question 🩵
I wish there was no time limit to live our lives. We should not know the time; that’s how I want to live my life, without boundaries of time.
Whenever you’re involved in something willingly, you don't mind the timing. Hours of time feel like minutes when you are truly involved in something you desire.
Life should be lived with full involvement, without knowing the time. Then you’ve lived your life. Time is an illusion; it is bounded only by the mind.
Time is a limitation. Life should be lived without limitation. There should not be a feeling when you’re born or when you die. ‘Now’ is the only time we should embrace.
"‘Now’ is the only time we should embrace." I couldn't agree more with you, Udaya -- thanks so much for sharing these beautiful reflections on time 🙏
100% concur. Time is a human construct which truncates and compartmentalizes our existence, and once I retired, I gained the privilege of most times, ignoring the clock. I strive to live in the now, starting tasks, and completing them, or coming to a place of doneness for that session, before moving to something new. So for me, marking time means completing a cycle, before beginning a new cycle 🌸🌼🌸
In the house where I'm currently living, my bedroom faces southeast. For the first time in my life, I wake up with the sun. My favorite time is just before the sun rises above the hill and trees. My room floods with orange light, which makes me smile.
In the living room, I also feel when it's mid-day. The sun slips around the house, and the room becomes more shadowed and darker.
Yes! This resonates with me so much, Margaret. In our new apartment in Antwerp, our bedroom window faces east, and I've also loved getting to start our days with the sun. Thanks so much for sharing that with us -- there's something that feels so instinctual and right about knowing the time by the ever-changing light 🤍
Purple, white, and yellow wildflowers dot the green hills after the winter storms, and the doves are asking who who who will be my mate.
Beautiful! Love picturing those colors 💜💛
I think I time my life by bees more than anything else. Keeping bees has definitely changed how I am in the world.
I love that you tell time by bees, Jessica, and please know I would so love to read more about it as well -- maybe the subject of a future zine? 😍
On the traditional territories of the Lekwungen Peoples, now known as the Songhees and Esquimalt First Nations in what is Victoria,B.C., I walk through nearby Beacon Hill Park at least once a week alert to the shifting of the seasons through the changing leaves, flowers and light. Before I moved here, my favourite season was fall. Last year I realized spring had edged out fall as my fav because in the park, the days unfold in a pastel potpourri of pink and white cherry blossoms, crocus, and daffodil shoots, tulips and others, each bud marking the renewal that spring heralds. Similar to your story, Candace, spring hasn’t fully arrived for me until the camas push up on hillsides in the park. Camassia, a member of the Asparagus family, and the bulbs used by First Nations for food for centuries, turn some of the green hillsides and other grassy areas a subtle mauve. Only after my first glimpse of the camas do I accept that spring is really here. Inevitably as I delight upon my first sighting, some time in April, I find myself imagining generations of Indigenous families harvesting these, a transparency of the past over the present, as if each plant represents one of their ancestors saying hello.
Gayle, I feel like this deserves to be its own essay, it's so rich with detail and history and meaning. Two of my favorite lines were, "each bud marking the renewal that spring heralds" (beautiful!)" and "each plant represents one of their ancestors saying hello," and I especially loved learning about the camassia flowers. This was such a moving homage to the Lekwungen Peoples -- thank you so much for sharing it with us 🤍
Thank you, Candace!
Spring comes here when the desert peach blooms. It's a gnarly little bush, not nearly as spectacular as the fruit tree version, yet it's blossoms always alert me that warmer, more settled weather is near at hand. In August, the desert turns golden with rabbitbrush flowers. A type of sage, it covers the western American lands with a yellow carpet that last into mid-October. That's when the winds come to blow all the leaves away, leaving the cottonwoods to stand twisted and gnarled as if being tortured. Snow may wait until November or even December, but the rabbitbrush blooms like clockwork.
This was so beautiful to read, Sue, and from the desert peach to rabbitbrush to cottonwoods, you've now got me wanting to do an entire illustrated essay just dedicated to watching the seasons change in the desert! Thank you for sharing this with us 😊
Thank you, Candace. Your illustrated essays are always a pleasure to read and view.
I know when the warmer seasons are coming because my joints ache less, and my headaches improve. It's happening right now and it is always brilliant when I notice it.
What a beautiful gift of spring for you, June 🤍
It rains in the winter here. I know spring is coming when the rain stops and I can go on my favorite trail again and reach this magical point on the trail where the sun filters through the trees and shines on the stream. It’s like being at an altar. I wrote about invitations today and loved reading this, Candace!
"It’s like being at an altar." That line just gave me chills, Priya! And I love that the rain is a rhythm that marks the changing of seasons for you. Thank you so much for sharing this 🤍
I know spring is around the corner when daffodils and grape hyacinths pop up. I love seeing the yellow and purple together in my mom’s yard.
Yes! Grape hyacinths are another new-to-me flower I've fallen in love with here in Belgium -- over the past few weeks, they've popped up all over in Antwerp, especially in window boxes and flower shops. I think I'm definitely going to have to illustrate one for next week's post :) Thanks so much for your comment, Taimie, I loved reading it! 💜💛
I love that cherry blossom drawing!!! Are you going to make a file downloadable as an option citing you as the creator of course?
Well thank you so much, Jen! I'm thrilled to hear you love it. I hadn't planned on making it an art download, but now you've got me thinking about it -- watch this space 😊🌸
You might want to consider putting a signature watermark on your art too so when people take it from your social media, it's there in the image itself.
The coming of spring is the sound of Sandhill Cranes migrating overhead - reptilian and otherworldly.
How beautiful! Thanks so much for sharing that, Meryl 🤍
I recognise the arrival of Autumn here in Auckland, by the dipping of temperatures, the stacking of firewood, and the most spectacular sunset skies of orange, pink and mauve 🧡💗💜 Usually it elicits an inner sense of sadness and loss, this year I find it comforting as the external world seems to come more into alignment with the internal world. Summer is no longer taunting me for being in a bubble of hibernation.
This was so lovely to read, Vicki, and I especially love how you touched on both the internal and external rhythms in your life right now, as one season gives way to the next. Thank you so much for taking the time to share it with us, and know I'm wishing you a beautiful autumn 🍂
Lol. I tell time by my miniature horses! Spring is shedding season number one when the winter coat starts coming out in handfuls! All over! Summer is when it’s too hot for what coat is left over so the get body clipped. Again, hair is all over! Fall is shedding season number two when the summer coat sheds out and the winter coat starts growing in and the hair gets longer. Hair kinda still gets everywhere, just not as much. Winter is when they are fuzzy teddy bears with thick hair and finally, no hair on me. We’ve just started shedding right now. Wheeeeeee! 😂
This was such a delightful and surprising rhythm to read about, Sharon, and you had me laughing out loud in some places :) I never expected that miniature horses might be a way of sensing a change in the seasons, but what a fun way to tell time 🐎
Navy darkness is replaced with sun rises, pink and peach, before most others are awake. It's a precious time. Just me, the golden dawn and a cup of tea.
"Just me, the golden dawn and a cup of tea." That is my idea of heaven right there, Janelle 😊