What a lush, beautiful spring it has been. Our tomatoes are hanging in there with the cooler temperatures, and I’ve been spending too much time reading along the banks of the Swannanoa river. Our mighty Beech is reaching ever closer to our threshold, and I’ve taken to preparing a sight line when it’s time for my evening yin yoga; all walls dissolve, and I’m suspended in its limbs.
There’s so much to look forward to before the summer solstice. Late May brings the blue ghosts, and we hope to see them this weekend when the moon rises late so the woods stay nice and dark. The mating dances of the males produce beloved shapes from childhood — hearts, circles, swirling paths full of possibility. We stay on the trail of a few known spots and wait and hope. Often we are rewarded.
As we continue to enjoy late spring to summer, warmer temperatures are inevitable. We stay sane north on the Blue Ridge, and will take refuge in the Green Mountain Fire Tower, Snowball Mountain, Craggy (of course), Camp Alice, Rattlesnake, and beyond. The Mountains-to-Sea trail tends to beckon after dinner.
When we were in Oregon this spring, I learned about the native tribes of that region and the genius of the seasonal round. They moved to areas rich in resources during the warmer months and brought their bounty home to store for winter. I sometimes think we’re suffering from this lack of intuitive movement. We must do what we can at the spurring of the seasons. Now is the time to play, to grow what we can grow, and to stay outside as long as the evenings will have us.
Peace,
Yve
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