There's a pink hula hoop weathered by the sun, laying randomly on the ground under a tree. A hose snakes away from the house, through the flowerbed, and coils around in just the perfect place to trip over as you enter my house. I've been meaning to move that hose, at least it was disconnected from the spigot before it burst some pipes during our cold snap last week.
I have yet to trim back my irises that really need to be divided up. Their growth is strangling them, they need more space. Although some of the remaining foliage is green, they sit limp and slumped over, screaming trim us now! Just along side those past their prime irises, my lavender has also lost it's color and it's fallen asleep in mother nature's brown dull winter shade. It seems just like last week all my flowers were blooming, but 20-30 degree days for a week does a number on even the hardiest of plants.
The Adirondack lawn chairs are turned upside down, protecting the smaller chairs that could blow away at a wind's whim. Broken branches, dried leaves, even weeds are no longer able to cling onto a vibrant green shade. Dormancy has arrived in my front yard.
Ironically the sky is blue, clouds are out bursting into my field of vision. The clouds are moving, even though I am sitting remarkably still which leads me to think is our movement being shown by the clouds or are the clouds moving? I realize in that moment even though we are always moving my world feels incredibly settled, incredibly solid.
Clouds and a waking two year old are gentle reminders that we are always in motion, moving, going.