The wind plays maestro through the surrounding wetlands.
Reeds have dried to a delicious golden hue. Their plumes flit in the breeze, as they bend and stretch.
Lean on me, they whisper.
The cattails keep tempo with the perennial grasses. They stand tall and bob, like a gentleman tipping his hat.
There's a noticeable difference to the cattails this time of year. Their tightly woven brown tops are shedding. Creamy, fluffy bits have become loose as the season's change.
Snuggled in their softness are tiny seeds, eagerly awaiting for their turn. Their moment. Their chance to grow into something beautiful.
Yet, they wait. They need the right gust of wind; the proper path forward.
It's not that it won't happen; it's more about when and how it will.
The in between.
That sticky spot. You're not where you were, but you haven't reach the next destination yet.
Yet.
So in the meantime, lets give ourselves grace. Be soft with ourselves, and know that it's coming. Whatever it is that you're hoping for is on its way. The seeds are being planted, the breeze is gently blowing, and we're riding it out. Together.
Have a blessed week, friends!
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