No matter how credible I might appear to be, the moment I put those words down this week describing the pink compensation in our sky, I knew mother nature would sink my confidence and ridicule my assertion that there are no more flowers left to match our magical shutters ‘ton sur ton’, by exposing the still flowering Passion flower Calipso, the faded purpleness of our young Clematis ‘The President’ and even the bright pink presence of the renewed rise of Rose Campion in the roadsides.
However, as a natural force she’s not known for using her omniscience as a reprimand, so I’ll take her rebuke lightly and realize rather than a reimbursement her recent sky discoloration was supposed to show me through synchronicity that events may be connected not just by causality, but by meaning as well. Moreover, she tells me, it’s totally up to me personally to give substance to that purport, lyrical content preferred.
The ease with which her precise primordial laws intersect themselves, what would wield where, when and why, carelessly points in the direction of prolonged beauty or solidly sustains an atrocious reflection of climate change, but it’s dangerous either way. It’s rather ridiculous to witness our lilac tree decide to start its second blossoming mid November, having had such a hard time this year with several colonies of hornets stripping its bark for nest building it forgot its target in August after which it should have gone into rest mode.
Not obeying these straightforward primeval rules could prove to be ridiculously risky with frost on the threshold, but I can’t help but share in its excitement too, chasing opportunities, intuitively knowing it’s better to try despite all inevitability.
I can find tremendous joy in taking in all this vigor without intervening or fearing, a leisurely look around as if there’s no more garden work to be done to prepare for winter, oh, if only. The inner conversations that arise from my inaction are an intrinsic part of my personal preparation for what’s to come, as well as clear evidence of my profound laziness.
Intertwined duality rules in our pink paradise these days and it surprisingly breathes comfort instead of agitation.