Saturday morning I was back to my Fort Atkinson pilgrimage, driving east from Madison to see Farmer Peggy and buy some flowers – but also to watch our edge of the moraine roll into the morning sky. The silver mist from a cool night lingered in the soy bean oceans – and gold is sweeping the millions of spires of corn – surely millions – shivering with pollen and green.
And here now, the entire summer is in one place. My guilty apples, purloined from a tree behind the yoga studio. Rampant cosmos, hyacinth bean blossoms and geranium-red nasturtium from my patch at the community garden. From Peggy, the Queens of Summer – Lisianthus and Sunflower – surrounded with sparkles of goldenrod, garlic, coneflower and dill. And the eggshell in softest blue, hatched it’s summer wondering and grew into a life of a garden. I’m so thankful for all its surprises.
what is beautiful remains 
Oh my! The crown of the yellow sunflower, like a halo over the more subtly tinted one showing its full face underneath. The purple leaves like basil, although I know they aren’t basil coz you would’ve said if they were. At the lowest point, kind of like under gross. The egg shell, is that what that is? Like a broken porcelain tea cup? Fall swirling her skirts. Your guilty apples and your sparkling garlic. All meant to meet at this point in space time.