THINKING ONLY OF THE GOOD

Letting go of the rest I try today to think only of the good.  

In our meadow grow daisies the size of a quarter, not too big, not too small.  But tall, taller than the carpet bugle-weeds that grow in their shadow, ladders of small blue trumpets named ajuga, a deer-resistant ground cover on steady stalks.  Neither is fragrant; their beauty is in their abundance.  We don't cut the meadow till I've brought buckets full indoors. On every surface the little bugles fall, the daisies bow after a day or two.  But we never run out, not till the grasses outgrow the flowers and they nestle down and wither.  Then the mowers come.  

What can we learn from the daisies?  Never mind if we weren't born a rose.  A meadow of wild daisies is preferred by many, strong roots, reliable year after year, each with a cheerful countenance.  We might want a few roses, but for bounty daisies are best.  A bouquet of wild flowers is an entirely good thing.

Shackleford Banks, feral horses

We got to spend Memorial Day at our North Carolina beach with family, the youngest a 4-year-old.  All morning she kept repeating, "It will be my first time on a boat," excited about the ride out to Shackleford Banks where the wild horses roam. Once settled on the ferry she looked around and said, "Who's going to keep me safe."  One of her big sisters said, "I'm right here Lily" and wrapped her arm around her.  We were accompanied by young dolphins in the no-wake zone, which made Lily's first time just that much better.  Lily may have been born a rose.  It felt like it this weekend, I think to her too.  

The three teenage cousins, all strong, reliable, with luminous faces like daisies, tended to eachother with love and humor.  They scooted off together at every opportunity, keeping late nights.  One night they set an alarm to rise for the meteor shower, then fell asleep together in one bed.  They have deep family roots.  One can be nothing but proud and hopeful in their presence. A bouquet of cousins is an entirely good thing. 

We were at the beach May 15 as well, just weeks ago, on the night of the Super Flower Blood Moon lunar eclipse.  Right out the open door high above the live oak, hovering, we saw the super moon rising full and pink in the dark sky.  It was a night to love the moment no matter how foul the news.  

Times there are when the good outweighs the bad, when we savor and store memories like summer peaches for the winters of our discontent. Never should these be neglected or disparaged.  Today, letting go of the rest, let us pick a time to live in our meadows (wherever we find them); or with the moon and the tides, married for eons, sleeping like spoons as cousins might do.  

Nina Naomi