what are your blueberries?
Today is Memorial Day and the last day of May.
I need to write this fact down to believe it.
As the month of June beckons, so does the reality of summer.
I have begun using a Sharpie instead of a pencil on our calendar for the months ahead.
Last summer found the world squarely in a holding pattern with any plans held loosely and cautiously. I can feel the hum of a summer filled with more activity than I have grown accustomed to.
The squares are beginning to fill with places to be and people to see which feels hopeful and foreign. I can feel my heart begin to race with anticipation and a bit of anxiety. Some of this arises from my introverted tendencies that have flourished in isolation.
However, this time of living life off the grid of hurrying and scurrying has become a desired practice I want to adopt. Picking up the good bits and pieces of what I have learned to embrace during this unimaginably difficult time.
I have learned the beauty of having space for uninterrupted conversations.
I have learned how to transform small mundane tasks into beautiful
rhythms by pausing to find the best perspective and mindset.I am learning how often saying “yes” can be an expensive way to forfeit peace.
I am re-learning the importance and gift of rest because exhaustion if not held in check, grows exponentially when ignored.
This short post is a gentle whisper of warning to proceed with care.
A fast-paced summer can quickly bleed into autumn at warped speed and become your life’s rule.
Be choosy.
Walk gently to the sound of your own drumbeat.
Allow for unaccounted hours and days.
Find joy in blank calendar boxes sandwiched with ones full of scribbles.
Take time to enjoy the beginning of less restrictive living, slowly.
See all the people and places but maybe not all in one month.
Last summer, I remember scooting a folding chair before our mammoth blueberry harvest. Our neighborhood was so quiet but every now and then a masked someone would stroll along the sidewalk.
Sometimes the walker would remark about the bowls of berries, which was all it took for me to send them home with their own bowlful.
This offering of conversation and fruit was a tentative action last year. We feared drawing too close to one another.
I am as anxious as anyone to be released from this captivity of sorts but I don’t want my summer to be so crammed full that my berries get eaten only by the birds.
What are your blueberries?
What can you make certain is not crowded out this summer?
May our summers taste as sweet as blueberries straight off the bush, plentiful and perfect in the right season.
