June is often a wet month here in the Vancouver area and this year it's been even wetter than normal, as has been this year so far. The last two weeks of May were dry and I got much of my planting done, but not quite all of it. During rare dry moments since, I've been out there staking tall perennial flattened by showers. I'm capturing slugs and snails feasting on moist and succulent plants, some of which will have to be replaced with new ones, sigh. The weeds are growing too. Yet all is so very beautiful, lush and green like a tropical jungle (but cooler) that I can't help being swept in by the heart-filling beauty of this world. So, instead of feeling blue, I'm feeling overwhelmed by green.
As I've been composing this, I've been visiting a few of my favourite blogs. Dave at Via Negativa wrote a lovely post with a link to a poem that swept me away with its bittersweet beauty and seemed so timely with my own - Federico García Lorca's Romance Sonambulo. Here are the first few lines:
Green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea
and the horse on the mountain.
With the shade around her waist
she dreams on her balcony,
green flesh, her hair green,
with eyes of cold silver.
(The photos were taken this morning while it was raining and I was tidying my studio - one outside, one looking through from my studio corner window into the solarium. I should have gotten something 'green' but at the time I didn't know what my post's title was going to be.)