Every morning when I go through a gate to my studio I am greeted by the flying horse weathervane and the current weed. For the past weeks the flowers have been so beautifully open and welcoming. That they close up in the evening into the most delicate pink is astonishing.
They are music as they dance in the wind, they are magic in their color, they remind me that I cannot know – anything – because I know they change, I know they are not the same flower every day but they give me the same gift of lightness every day.
The smart part of me wants to be open to their native brilliance because they help me open to mine.