As I approach my 50th birthday, and perhaps quite a bit before that, I have felt the repeating patterns of the years as they pass. Mostly it’s the gardens that reveal these patterns. They may shift from year to year – sometimes the cherries and lilacs are drooping and heavy with blooms, sometimes they are scant and precious – but patterns are patterns for a reason.
Some years repeat the exact same bloom patterns almost to the day.
There is comfort there, in the way the world repeats itself.
As it feels like things grow more and more unstable when it comes to people, nature maintains its sanity, its consistency.
And so I embrace the arrival of the sweet woodruff blooms – little clouds of white blossoms floating above pretty foliage. A carpet of beauty, one that will stay fresh right into the fall.
