This week is National Pollinator Week, its purpose to celebrate pollinators and bring awareness to how important it is to protect them. I spent a little time reading a bit more about pollinators (there are many more species of pollinators than just bees!) and paying attention to all the visitors in my garden these last few days.

Coincidentally I’ve been reading The Bees by Laline Paull, so bees are even more in my mind as I’ve gotten sucked into its story.

As I've said before, I sometimes thank (out loud) the bees I see at work in my garden. I often think about a beautiful scene in the movie The Secret Life of Bees where Dakota Fanning’s character Lily sends love to the bees.*

I find the idea of sending love into the world so appealing. Not just to bees, but to everything.

Our world is fragile, in many ways. Pollinator numbers are declining. Bees, butterflies. (We can help). I try to tread gently, but I know each of us leave an impact.

I think about the state of our societies right now, too. The world in the grips of a pandemic. Fears. Uncertainties. Inequalities. I think about the government in my country, which seems to be crumbling more and more each day. I think about overt racial hatred and about the more insidious ways racism is built into my country’s identity.

I think about a comment someone made on instagram a few weeks ago on a paraphrased quote I mentioned from Angela Davis about being anti-racist. The commenter said she didn’t want to be anti-anything. And my initial response was to start tallying up all the things I’m ok with being anti. Which stance is most helpful?**

I think about how ugly people can get in online spaces. Even spaces that I’d think would be free from that. I think about my artist friends who have turned away from social media because of it.

And then I come outside to my garden and I watch the bees and butterflies and hummingbirds and flies. I notice the toad beneath the ferns and the mockingbird perched in the branches of my neighbor’s cedar tree. I watch a very hungry caterpillar get fatter and fatter eating dill and parsley in the herb bed.

I spot a pair of bald eagles circling my yard on invisible air currents. I see a blue heron flying east to west, as if following the points on a compass, across the bit of sky between my neighbor’s yard and mine.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

This week Matthias and I celebrated our 19th wedding anniversary.

I painted.

(I even painted in the garden, something I never do).

I gardened.

And I came here to write to you. With all these thoughts and feelings swirling around inside me. Thoughts that keep coming back to love.

To a desire to tread gently in this world, not just my feet on this earth, but my interactions with the other inhabitants here. Gentleness. Kindness. Compassion. Love.

I hope you are hanging in there. I hope you are discovering wonders and finding joy. And doing what you need to do. For your spirit and for our world.

*That scene has stuck with me all the years since I first saw the move and when I re-watched it about a month ago I was surprised to see how short it is and how quickly it comes and goes.

** I think sometimes we need both. Sometimes we need to raise our voices when we encounter injustice.