Each year, as our garden grows, I love to see the emergence
of the squash blossom opening its petals in the early morning glistening and
greeting the sun. My ancestors, and many other Algonquian speaking peoples have
woven squash blossoms and vines into artwork for centuries. These large open
flowers fill my heart with joy each summer as I spend time around our small
garden. Almost every year, I take time to pause and admire these flowers. I
attempt to take time to write a brief reflection.
The squash blossoms are large, beautiful, and frail, and
they point to the arrival of summer and fall foods. They are also a source of
nourishment for our body themselves, and if we are willing to pause, I believe
they are a source of nourishment for our souls. I often wonder if this is why
my ancestors had such a deep love for squash blossoms and included them in so
much art. They are a small gift that reminds us, if we are willing to listen
and witness, that life is fragile and beautiful—all of it, and that we should
step delicately on the earth, and savor each passing moment. These flowers only
emerge for a small season, and in the sweltering heat of summer they invite us
to refreshment for our spirits, and to look forward to a satisfying harvest in
the weeks ahead.
Even as I write this, these blossoms are giving way to
squash and zucchini around the garden, and we are beginning to be able to enjoy
the harvest. May we each take time to enjoy the simple beauty that God blesses
us with each day, and may we learn to walk the earth in this beauty as well. In addition, may we each look forward to the
wonderful future gifts that these flowers point us toward, but not so far
forward that we fail to enjoy the wonder of the present moment.
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