New Moon Writing 1: May-Mess

Everything is so green now, and new life is everywhere.

The dandelions have turned to seed, and it’s time again for the buttercups and daisies.  The trees are displaying their newest green leaves, and some mornings the mist is intoxicating.

Long summer nights lean out, which bring some melancholy, but to many enthusiasms and excitement and joy; it just depends.

Remember in the nursery when we played, “how green you are?” and we sang loudly or quietly to help find the treasure.  Softly when far away, and loud when close.  We couldn’t smell spring then, because we were too young, and sometimes we couldn’t hear it either.

Remember another May in Mongolia when the snow melted, and everyone learned to walk on solid ground again.  Small pop-up cafes sold beer that you could drink from the bottle while sitting on plastic chairs, listening to American songs on the radio.  Harold said, “this is just like Ibiza” and we all laughed hard.  Eating shislek and talking about Kazikstan.

I might have told you that before.

I told you about a fox, that time.

This time the fox is at the bottom of the garden, and she has four cubs.  I’ve seen them in the early morning, once by accident and later by design.  They hide beneath the hedges and come out to play when she’s out hunting for food.  I smile when I see them, when the earth seems at its finest.

Earlier in the week, there was rain. 

The water dripped off the hedges and quenched the thirst of the slugs, snails, and worms at the “all you can” eat buffet.

In my universe, this subjective, unique space and time is the tranquil peace and the air.  In another place, bigger and smaller than now, there’s an ocean where the salt water heals and there, there is quiet.

My enjoyment and trust in the day begins, middles, and ends with one grateful thought, that I am happy to be here.  Let me heal, says the May flower and the May fly, let me do my work.  The May-Mess all around us, the wild purple flowers that entice all the bees.  This short-lived festival of luminescence, this special time of song birds.

Brava life, thank you earth, well done summer. 

Let it heal.