© 2020 Lynsey Lemon balm

Two years of winter

I haven’t written here for years.

Hello? Is there anyone out there?

Do people still even read? Why would they when I don’t write – or even read.

Spring though, has finally come, after what seems like forever. To our garden, to our lives. I’ve been navigating other territories, and I’ve returned, definitely older and somewhat wiser. Words have come back to me, and photos have never really left me. And our world, always turbulent at best, has tumbled and crumbled (at times) like the rest of you and yours in 2020.

Over the past couple of years my day job and family and life in general has conspired to make things difficult and awkward and at times just damn overwhelming. And it was the kind of things that I couldn’t and didn’t want to share with the whole world, both of you reading this. Writing of this kind comes in two forms – so irritatingly perky it makes me sick, or so bleak you feel worse than David Bowie, Robin Williams, and Leonard Cohen all checking out on the one day. And then they try to sell you something, because at least that cheers them up.

I’ve returned to my garden.

My Eden, my start for everything. It’s been quietly sitting there waiting for me – as gardens do – and the best and most important aspects have remained the same. Every spring, lemon balm shows up and for a few brief days is so green, so perfect, so flawless, my heart sings and I feel inspired. I start to think things might be possible. In spite of the fallow years. In spite of work, family, and life in general. Lemon balm is balm for my bruised spirit, just by being itself.

01. Every day is a fresh new day.
02. Every day is an opportunity for a new beginning.
14. Every day the ordinary can be the extraordinary.

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