Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Lace

Queen Anne

We used to live in the city.  I have to remind myself of this sometimes because it feels so far away now, and yet I don't want to forget what it felt like—at the very beginning—to come home to this land.

It was exactly a year ago.  Queen Anne's Lace flowers were blooming in the meadow in front of our house.  I looked out and saw them, imagined them waiting for us.  A common wild flower, so extraordinarily beautiful in its abundance.  Amabel and Ellen gathered vases and vases full in those first weeks; they were, as I was, overwhelmed with the simple beauty of the natural world, the wild places just outside our doors.  And after seven years in the city, even I—as my grown up self—did not take a single lacy white skirt for granted.  We were home, at last.

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