Being in Nature during Time of Pandemic

September 18

Everything that can flower is mustering its will and flowering magnificently right now due to recent rains. My heart sings at the sight of purple sage—both the light and the darker color.  I love how it blooms brilliantly and then quickly sheds its coat, covering the ground with its raiments. Its subtle fragrance draws me into its nectarous heart and brings love to mind. Likewise, the crepe myrtles are giving their best as summer comes to a close. They, too, are dropping their petals and painting the ground pink and white. The Mexican bird of paradise is winding down—more seedpod than bloom but what a summer of blooming it has been with its bright reds, oranges and yellows.  

The lantana is blooming mightily—a virtual color wheel—lemon meringue yellow, purple, lavender, yellow and orange, pink and white—the colors and combinations of colors are mind-boggling. I pause to admire a large patch of red and orange lantana next to a patch of sunny yellows. Turns out I’m not the only admirer. Honey bees are slurping up the nectar—their insistent tongues plunging in and out of the ambrosia. And there’s another visitor—great harbinger of fall. An early monarch butterfly is dancing among the flowers. I’m standing still—absorbed in beauty. She comes and does a wild dance around my body then flies across the street, down the block, crosses the street again and returns to the lantana bush—her orange and black body highlighting first one flower, then another. Lantana, monarch, honey bee, and now a flurry of bright yellow leaves mark this as a forever moment.

In the woodlands, color is more subtle, the blooms less profuse this time of year. A sprinkle of day blues mixed with resplendent yellow bells, also called esperanzas, which means hope, joined by a small purple flower that has bloomed all summer, and the wee little white stars that grow close to Earth.  Everywhere that enough light gets in, the kidneywood bush with its delicate fern-like leaves is blooming. The flowers are elongated white rods that unfold themselves from the bottom up. Their presence is elegant, even majestic—little torches of light that breathe and sail with the breeze. When kidneywood is in full bloom, it is a sight to behold—a tree of lights.

Like the flowers, I am doing my best to bloom, and inspired by nature, it’s not that hard. The important thing is to stay connected to what is real, especially in these times when truth is so often distorted for political gain. Flowers are real. Beauty is real. Life is real—no matter what anyone tells you to the contrary. Believe in life and plant flowers.