A fond farewell to this month of June, my first month of blogging. What a fun, and surprisingly creative experience it's been.  Well, onward and upward...each day a new adventure. 

                Peace...the harmonic bell to which each heart resonates                           

Quietly going about our business...

This butterfly enjoys Sweet Cicely...

These gloomy, rainy days have been so good for the plants,

incubating their goodness, like these blackberries-to-be.

Why hasn't somebody invented milkweed perfume yet?    I don't know what this shrub on the right is called, but she's lifted her skirts, leaving her sisters in the garden, and gone and planted herself in the woods.

Everything is so lush.

                                  One more peek at this month's project before the final unveiling,                             this time from the underside in all its abstract glory.  Days and days of stitchery-do.

And then we rest.

This dragonfly actually watched me as I watched him, tilting his big eyes towards me.

All of an afternoon...the flowers, the bugs, the trees, the weeds and me...we all send our wish of love and peace on earth with abundance for all on our beloved blue planet.

Some days are like that - just golden.  It's as if we were making our own alchemy with each step.  Holidaying in our own town at the antique car rally, walking down the main strip as if we owned it, soaking up the festive atmosphere - what fun.

And yesterday, more of the same: yard-saling, strawberry-picking and antique shops with a great summer supper and an old movie. Here's a picture of our old girl in the wild flowers just as happy as we.

Savouring the Solstice, this "last day of Spring"

What if everything we wanted came to us as easy as wishing?   What if we worked hard all our lives towards something we wanted only to have outgrown it? There are secrets that lay waiting to be discovered.  They can be found in the meditative quality of one's work but they can't be forced by working harder or faster.  I can't deny that I've had some resistance to the discipline of persisting on my latest embroidery project, fearful that it would not resolve itself.

The pink heart revealed itself to me this morning.  It came as I resumed my embroidery after finishing Gabriel Garcia Marquez' autobiography, Living to Tell the Tale.  Marquez is a Colombian journalist and magic realism novelist with a self-admitted Caribbean sensibility.  The perspective he writes from in his autobiography is often touchingly (and dangerously) naive. I believe the revelation came to me because this book was still so fresh in my mind and resonated with changes in my  life.

So here is a sneak peak at the work I started almost 3 weeks ago. I see the pink heart as a message of hope, resurrection and redemption as it rises from the flames. However, it is open to interpretation; that's how it's meant to be.

Joy!

The longest day of the year is fast approaching.  How sweet are these fleeting hours as the garden and landscape flourish from these Aprilly showers we've been getting.  The blackberry and raspberry blossoms are thick on their vines, and today I found giant moose tracks on the laneway!  Soon, soon I will have something new to show you.

As evening is nigh, one last glimpse of sunfall.

It's been another lovely day spent mostly embroidering. I'm eager to show you the final results, which could take some time as I'm not in possession of an appealing background colour.  But soon! I'm being ever so diligent.

Oh dear, we must do something about that comfrey.

Yesterday I visited our closest fabric store almost an hour away and found some groovy cottons and linen/cotton blends in the remainder bins and some embroidery floss in colours I thought were very nice considering they,too, were on sale. So I was tickled and eager to cut them up and stitch them into funky new dolls.

But all that must wait as I persevere on my flowergirl embroidery which is taking a different turn since I ripped out the background 2 days ago. I'm used to working quickly which engages the intuition in a way that this slower, mind-wandering pace can't. I find it easier to hear my own voice when I'm away from her, ironically. But isn't that often the way.

Adieu til next time.