The world is too much with us: late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.
I did something today that I haven't done in far too long. I took a moment for myself.
During the walk with the dogs this morning, I tried something new, an experiment that most people would find a little strange. I closed my eyes. I let the dogs lead me. They proved themselves completely worthy of my trust. Their skills were confirmed when they started pulling me in a diagonal line, guiding me across the road just as I have done for them on countless walks and just at the same point (okay, I peeked to be sure). Leaving the leadership to them afforded me a different perspective. I listened to the frogs and the crickets sing in the still morning, felt the soft, cool breeze. I noted the complete lack of traffic noise. I heard the cadence of my shoes hitting the pavement, the syncopation of the girls' tags jingling softly as they pranced. It was an amazing experience that I wanted to last as long as possible. Of course, I appropriately opened my eyes as soon as we reached the main road again. They may know where they're headed, but they're dogs, after all. I couldn't trust that Tippy would look both ways, and Zoey is distracted by pretty much everything and could drag me to my death.
As our walk neared its conclusion and we reached the head of the driveway, making the turn toward the side steps of the house, I noticed how the morning light made my Artemisia glow. I'm quite awestruck by them. They started life inside the house this spring as seeds in a little planting module, and now they tower over me. One (when not toppling over, as seen in the photo) is over 6 feet tall. They are beautiful in full daylight, but there's something about the low light of dawn or dusk that makes the white panicles shine. All I could think about was getting into the house and grabbing my camera. For once in a great while, I had no thoughts of getting to work on time or the myriad issues that would vie for my attention once I got there. I thought only of the light, the flowers, and my camera.
The world looks different through the camera lens. It forces me to stop and absorb every element of the scene in front of me. I've spent too much time away from the garden, from my writing, from my camera, and ultimately from myself. But today, in the quietness of morning, my garden restored me, plainly and simply, just as it has so many times before, and I don't intend to allow distractions to take that peace away from me again.
Do something that is solely for yourself. Seriously, the world can wait for you.