Today, I am grateful for trees, flowers, grasses, moss, green things.
Though our summer is quickly becoming the summer that never was, the plants don't seem to mind. They are as green and lush as ever, changing and growing, responding to the world, and squeezing themselves into the cracks of sidewalks, settling into a clogged gutter, attaching themselves to a log or rock or any ole thing while sailing down the river, where they set down roots and blossom and turn to the sun with a smiling good morning.
I love them for their quiet persistence and extravagant eloquence. I love how they fill up space and ask for more. I love their stubby shortness, their reedlike thinness, their colors, their poofiness, their shine. I love the sheer age of them, their flexible strength.
I love them for showing me how to grow and for teaching me how to support growth, and how to let it be. I love them for getting all together and creating fields and forests and green. I love them for reminding me to breathe, for making it possible, to breathe.
Today, especially, I love poppies.