Artichoke and onion blossoms.
Sturdy stems holding structurally incredible pieces of nature. Artful display in heat ranging in the 100s these summer days. Powerful grace speaks. I stand in awe in my cousin's garden.
My back home days are counting towards the end, pulling on my heartstrings, the vulnerable edge is approaching. I would think after thirty years of this it would be easier to manoeuvre, but no. The feelings of sadness come tapping on my heart's door: Will I see you again? What was I thinking? Mixed with happiness to be going home and being in that cozy corner of Yann's arms.
Bloom where are you are planted comes to mind.
Uprooted does too.
Sturdy stalk, strong bloom, deeply connected to the moment at hand.
Coming to visit "back home" reminds me of the other life that runs through my veins that made me who I am. If only this, If only that, if only it wasn't so far, if only…
Thankful for the seasons that bring renewal.
As I have said numerous times before,
"When you are an expat you are always missing someone or something."
The reality of living abroad is sharing and collecting from both worlds and making it one.
My cousin Johnny's artichoke and onion garden. My cousin takes the artichokes cuts off the outside leaves, stem and then cuts the top part off. Then melts butter, adds chopped garlic, parmesan and parsley on the top, wraps them in foil and bakes them for about an hour.
Later in the evening my cousin cut a bouquet of overgrown purple top artichokes for me to take back to my mom's.
He added onion blooms too.
Two beauties in one vase.
The end of the season, the artichokes and onions bloom and turn into seed.
Collected, scattered, toiled underground or left alone nature unfolds and becomes again and again.
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