It’s been a rough go lately. An emotional and psychological marathon with a few good restaurant kitchen-induced body batterings tossed in. All of which has put my patience and mental endurance to the test. If I could, I’d steal away to a retreat before summer’s end. A refuge that opened its door and accepted me just as I am: fatigued, battle-worn and ready to surrender to a space where breathing comes easily and deeply. Where serenity stretches the length of a wildflower meadow and deep into the coolness of a forest. To a place where simplicity allows me to focus on that which I know to be true. That time and circumstances always shift. That challenge and change give us the opportunity to walk straight into the darkness of our fear and emerge with sacred, undeniable strength.
What might that refuge look like? Well, it would most definitely involve a country house that has beautiful, old bones. A place where life and beauty is elevated. Where the rooms are filled with collectibles and the stories of long ago. Where the windows hold a view of towering evergreens and flowers tumble wildly along a path leading to a canoe that lies in wait at the edge of the water. Away from the distractions and blaze of the city. Where the early morning air is drenched with the exquisite sweetness of flowers unfurling, and the slant of the sun through the pines illuminates all that lies still and good. Where nature speaks quietly to me, rooting me in steadfast hope for the days and weeks ahead, twisting, bending towards the light.
I’d happily steal away to a retreat just like that of NY florist Amy Merrick. To Elmwood. A summer home in New Hampshire that has been her life-long gathering spot for family. In my utopian summer, spent in utopian blogland (as Number Two calls it) this is just where you’d find me …
photos courtesy of: Amy Merrick