We will pick tomato, kale, and leaf from the ground as the summer air courts the gardeners hands as if those hands belong to a poet. I have little time to write or play music and when I do, my hands are covered in leftover dirt. I try to bend with my knees as I dig and prune plants but other times I bend with my back and I immediately regret it. If I am to spend an entire life in the garden, it would be a mistake not to take care of myself now. These muscles, these nerves, this heartbeat, this belly, they are not yet ready for being sore from years of ignoring their importance.
We will walk into the ravine as the sun shines on our faces and you'll jump at the sight of a wandering wasp. It is true, I have never been stung, so I stand quite still when I see one, which makes me wonder if standing still is the trick or if I'm just lucky. I will crouch near the ground and pick dandelions, always remarking at how much happier I feel when the weather is warm. You will say "how do you survive the long and cold winters?" and I will reply "the love I feel in June is boundless, you don't forget a love like that."
We will return home at the end of the day and although the day was good, we will still complain about how slow sleep comes when the weather is hot. When we can, we drift in and out of sweat, songs and sleep. Tomorrow, today, it all becomes one, and very little in this world of living feels as sweet as summertime and you.
outfit details: value village hat & scarf tied as hair bow, winners via mum's closet floral shoes