It's not unusual for me to run late getting to the studio these beautiful summer mornings because I am stopping along the way to cut wildflowers and raid abandoned homesteads for cuttings.  I've gotten pretty good at the quick pullover, dash and cut tactic.  There is nothing more beautiful to me than an arrangement composed of the gifts of gardens and roadsides.  I remember as a girl the strip down the expressway being sown with red clover.  It was breathtaking when it came into bloom--a balm to buffer the spirit on those long hot stretches of concrete.  That casual overlooked beauty is still available for everyone, our forgotten family who journey with us in the world as a blessing..

See the flowers, so faithful to Earth.
We know their fate because we share it.
Were they to grieve for their wilting,
that grief would be ours to feel.

There's a lightness in things.  Only we move forever burdened,
pressing ourselves into everything, obsessed by weight.
How strange and devouring our ways must seem
to those for whom life is enough.

If you could enter their dreaming and dream with them deeply,
you would come back different to a different day,
moving so easily from that common depth.

Or maybe just stay there: they would bloom and welcome you,
all those brothers and sisters tossing in the meadows,
and you would be one of them.
                                                                Rilke, "Sonnets to Orpheus II, 14
                                                         from the translation Joanna Macy, Anita Barrows
                                                         A Year with Rilke