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A blog about flowers, poetry, life and style.

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the hills are alive

 
 On a recent Sunday when the weather was summery, my mum and I visited Glenbow Ranch for a day hike. The hills were alive in all of their glory — rolling meadows and trails were covered in wildflowers and strands of grass climbing towards a blue sky. It felt less like a hike and more like we were catching stars in our own private solar system. The ranch itself is brimming above life's lid with all sorts of pathways, some are paved, some are left rugged and wild, most are open with small trunk trees and little shadows. We chose tiger lily loop, the one named after the lilies that used to grow in the happiest parts of my childhood. A collection of somebody's picked them throughout the years so by the time I became an adult, tiger lilies were needles in haystacks, hard to find but always longed for.

As soon as we began walking through the trails, little orange flowers started popping up like whack-a-moles you don't actually want to whack. Here I was, a little ways out of the city, standing beside hills where tiger lilies have not yet been picked. I not only smiled, I felt myself smile from the belly to the brow. If life could always be measured by little moments and tiny triumphs like flowers growing on the hillside, I wouldn't have to ever mutter the words "I feel sad."

 
We walked into the sun and beyond until our faces were covered in sweat. If you look closely at these photographs, you can see beads of water appear on my face as if I had been running. It was hot like only summer knows how to be and the walk was long. We needed to find shade before climbing the hills for home. Here is where we stopped, there was a meadowlark and raven perched on the highest branch. I stood on a stump of wood and felt as though the whole ranch was my home, until the raven stirred up a family of bees, it was in this moment I realized home was wherever I wanted it to be — in the sweet peas climbing towards the sun, in the kiss of morning light on a bedroom window, in the forest, on a log, by my mother and where the hills are alive in the summertime.
 
The dress is from a new online Canadian boutique sweetly called Ever Rose ~ I felt like I wandered into a painting as I wore it. Being Canadian, it can be quite difficult to find online boutiques where the shipping and duties aren't hefty once they reach the doorstep. Today is Canada's birthday, a perfect day to wear a pretty dress from a Canadian company. I think I'll go pick some berries from the garden and toss them in maple syrup.

 
The Outfit
  
The Location
Glenbow Ranch, Calgary

what makes the gardener garden

A dozen leafy plants begin to blossom out of the valleys I made in the garden — everything is alive and then suddenly, it's not. Is this what makes the gardener garden? Is this why we rush to the raspberry bush and eat the pulp of watermelon so hastily as it drips from our chin? I sit where blades of grass grow like a long distance friend showing up for a short but happy time, they are here underneath the naked sky and I relish in knowing how beautiful this is to me.

I wander to the watering hose and fill my bucket till it weighs like a full grown dog leaped upon my lap. I use all of the strength I've ever known to lift it. I water the flowers. My arms twitch. I find a sense of motherhood by carrying a heavy bucket to give life to delicate living things. Other times, I feel like a hurricane, swishing and sloshing as wobbly me carries the bucket from the hose and into the garden, losing most of the water along the way. There are little things in the daylight of June that make even the most melancholy of my moods disappear and seem forgotten until darkness comes around again. I understand myself best in the world of shoveling soil, carrying buckets of water, and being hugged by the electric blanket we call summer. I see everything as it is — short lasting but bright like a life well lived.
 
In the mornings, I rise like my feet are on a trampoline, eager to see the ground below me from way up high. I run outside to witness if summer is still here. "It's only just beginning, Amy." says C. I doubt him, I need my own proof. I look at the garden, my flowers are still growing. I put my feet upon the blades of grass, it still feels warm. I look towards the sky and see a dark cloud coming from the west, "Is that winter, already?" I keep to myself. I know in my head, winter is closer to yesterday than tomorrow, but still I am afraid of being left by the sun. These days of watermelon pulp and raspberry picking are sweeter than the candy I grew up eating at the gas station down from the school.
 
Let me stay here in the sun all day, let me press pause.
 
  The Outfit
Skirt – Oasap
Blouse & Hat Value Village
Holt Renfrew Bow Belt  Value Village
Shoes An online store that doesn't exist anymore. If you find a similar pair, let me know!
  
The Location
Ravine behind my home

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