I’ve been on the road. And up to my eyeballs in work and life. It’s a fine savory stew, my life, with many ingredients I wouldn’t wish to remove. If only there were more hours in the day to do all the things I long to do.

This weekend we witnessed a beautiful and moving wedding. I took part in designing the dress for the bride who is now my sister-in-law. Seeing two people profess their love helps renew your own commitments, at least it does for me. So I look at my husband with fresh eyes, not wishing to allow familiarity to turn to boredom. Look for the surprises.

We came home to a bounty of foxgloves ready to burst their pods into pinks and whites. As a gardener I’ve learned to be a little heartless with some of the flowers that seed themselves voluntarily. But I’m a wimp with foxgloves because I love them so much. They remind me of the acres of pink spires of foxglove seen in County Down, Ireland, along the edge of a lake. And more in the woodlands of County Galway and Kerry.

It’s taken me 17 years to get them to seed themselves enough for me to be satisfied. They are biennial—meaning they grow as a green plant the first summer and bloom the next. I learned that if you allow them to spread their seed enough you’ll have them blooming each summer. Even so, I have a bigger yield every other year. And this is THE big yield year. Never mind that I need to step over them in the pathways. {They seem to be particularly fond of pathways.}

I will be cutting them for the table. And watching them from the windows. I will share them with friends. And I will think of lasting love through the years. How it also has its ebbs and flows of dormancy and blooms. Many many blooms.

Pictures of the wedding dress coming soon.