The deck is covered in confetti – miniscule petals of pink and white are scattered across the boards and the corner seat where I sit sipping my first coffee of the morning.
A pigeon coos from the large nest in the willow tree and birdsong reverberates all around me. Bank holiday weekend and all is green and vibrant after last night’s rain. the newly cut lawn has started to grow again, already re-carpeted with buttercups and dandelions.
May has slipped away – the beautiful turning of the blackthorn flowers from creamy white to light and dark pink heralded her imminent passing. She has happily handed over the reins to June, in whose competent arms nature is thriving. Beneath the grey skies is the hint of cobalt blue. A sunny day is waiting to break forth, hesitant but growing in confidence.
The air is heavy, although there is a slight breeze rolling down the hill behind the house carrying the mayflowers down onto myy deck, I can feel the heat rising, I came back from my walk this morning already perspiring.
Summer is here. Gone is the joyful promise, the playful sunshine and early preparations of May. June is summer, proper summer. Everywhere is in bloom, from the elderflower to the purple sage flower, the tips of the lavender in the shrubbery, hemlock towers over the queen anne’s lace and yarrow in the hedgerow and I even spied tiny hazelnuts growing this morning. It’s a time of burgeoning growth, of letting go, letting nature take over, of getting caught in rainshowers and being dry minutes later, of thunder and lightning and late evening walks when bat’s fly overhead and beatles click loudly against the patio doors.
It’s also a time to allow your nature to be as full and free as the world around you, a time to sing, to dance, to create and dream, to just sit on a petal-filled deck with a notebook and pen as the warm summer’s breeze blows the curls in your hair.