Summer Thoughts: A Journey Through My Flower Field

When I think of summer, I think of bare feet in the grass, cut-off jeans, juicy watermelon, fireworks, and fresh summer flowers. Summer is driving down a country road with the windows down, taking in the smell of freshly cut hay fields, all while your eyes feast on the rainbow of colors dancing along the side of the road. Yellow displays of goldenrod, black-eyed Susans, and dandelions almost look fluorescent next to the delicate white lace-like florets of Queen Anne's Lace.

Today, August 6th, 2026, my flower field is brimming with life! The cool flowers of spring are long gone, and the heat-loving beauties of summer are just hitting their prime. In my flower field, sunflowers tower above my head, yarrow is waving in the wind, and there are too many zinnias to count.

Bees and butterflies make their way through this colorful paradise. My garden is home to hundreds of them! While bees seem very intentional about where they land, butterflies lackadaisically flit from one flower to another. At the end of the day, it doesn't matter who pollinated it best, it only matters that they did. They were here, and I feel so blessed to have hosted them this day.

Unfortunately, my garden also lures guests that I'd rather not host. Japanese beetles are a persistent source of annoyance and frustration to me. They gnaw away at the petals and leaves of my beloved flowers, leaving them looking haggard and neglected. I relentlessly patrol the flowers, hunting the little green terrorists. I show them no mercy. Once my eyes have locked onto one, it is quickly scooped up and thrown into a bucket of soapy water. I learned the hard way that squishing them releases a pheromone that signals other beetles to arrive, so they are sentenced to a sudsy, watery death.

A family of toads lives happily under the shady canopy my flowers provide. I watch as they feast on ants and then, satiated and feeling pleased with themselves, nestle closely to the stalk of a cosmos for a well-deserved late morning nap. Sometimes, while I am walking the pathways between flower rows, a toad will leap out in front of me, causing me to nearly fall flat on my face as my feet shuffle to avoid colliding with the tiny kamikaze amphibian.

My summer garden brings me so much more than the flowers I sell. It is my refuge, my meditation, my humble teacher, and a place that I go to remember that we are all connected. There is so much life a garden holds. It reminds me that I am never in control. One windstorm can destroy everything I've worked so hard for. An army of grasshoppers can decimate a crop, and there's not much I can do. With gratitude and a lot of faith, I tend to the little patch of Earth that has become so dear to me. With respect to all creatures (except maybe Japanese beetles), I do my best to create a welcoming environment for them to enjoy as well. I know what I grow means so much more to them.