The Point

I felt slightly agitated when I began my walk. The day had gotten away from me and it was almost dinner time, but I felt if I didn’t squeeze in the time now, I would lie in bed that night, full of regret.

I’m not sure why I put off things I enjoy doing. My “walks of wonder” are at the top of my list, along with other spiritual practices, and yet I usually feel guilty spending my time this way. However, at day’s end, I almost always feel that these events were the most important.

My irritation began to dissipate immediately upon seeing a spike of irresistibly cheerful yellow flowers. When I turned the corner and spied a garland of small purple lanterns, I forgot all about feeling unhappy and simply wanted to set up a garden tea party under their floral luminescence. But whom would I invite?

A yellow jacket caught my eye and seemed to say: hey, what about me? I’ll go. And a honey bee on a matilija poppy offered to stop collecting pollen for a while to imbibe some sweet tea.

A cluster of fuchsia joined in the fun as chandeliers, their intense color adding to the radiant glow, while a silvery green carpet of tightly packed miniature gazania leaves provided a soft, spongy place to rest.

The final attendees were the most bristly of all—spiny cactus, a thorny-stemmed plant and barbed pine cones. They reminded me that only minutes before I was grumpy, prickly to the touch. It may not have been the dinner I was planning, but the lesson sure was sweet.

All photos © Sondra Sula.

Letting Go

“Transitions” by Sondra Sula

Autumn is a time during which I hold on tight to every glory and magnificence, reluctant to ease my grip for even a moment lest the season pass me by. Yet that is exactly what I must do: let go. I’m quick to find the last blooming dandelion in our yard, but when I draw near, I see a yellow jacket upon it, struggling due to its battered, broken wings. I could not save it even if I tried, because the worker wasps are slated to die before winter sets in. What I can do is witness its struggle, appreciate its beauty, acknowledge its purpose in the world, and then let go.

Further along my walk, I spot a paper wasp nest hidden within a juniper bush. The delicate layers look like squiggles of flattened yarn in shades of gray. I smile and reminisce about sitting in my garden, listening to paper wasps scrape the old bamboo poles that secure my tall plants during the summer. The wasps’ masticated wood pulp spittle creates these magnificent lantern-like structures. I soon realize the nest is abandoned and all the wasps have perished, save the queen who is safely tucked away elsewhere.

“Singed Clover” by Sondra Sula

“Crab Apples Clinging” by Sondra Sula

A hairy green milkweed pod brings to mind its ball of waxy mauve summer flowers. Then I imagine the fun I’ll have shaking the pods when they have browned and dried, bursting at the seams to reveal miniature petticoat seeds. I am retreating into the past and springing into the future instead of experiencing now. I must simply let go of before and after to enjoy the present.

I see a blooming clover and am beckoned by its brilliant hue. Pulled in, I notice the flaming pink tongues that form the floret are singed brown at one edge from frost. I must release my desire for an extended growing season and let nature continue her necessary cycles. I move on.

Crab apples and orange maple leaves desperately cling to now-brittle branches, but resistance is futile: it’s time to let go.

“Behold the Sugar Maple” by Sondra Sula