My Turquoise Bag

“Her early leaf’s a flower,
But only so an hour.”
– Robert Frost, Nothing Gold Can Stay

As summer gently winds down beneath Virgo’s September sky, I find myself thinking about what I loved most about the season.

Not in a what big event happened? kind of way.

I’m thinking about the memorable detail that remained constant throughout my summer.

And the answer is flowers.

So many flowers.

They appeared everywhere I went this summer.

Along nature trails.

On my morning walks.

At outdoor markets.

In little shops tucked into neighbourhood corners.

Inevitably, many of them followed me home.

Throughout the summer, flowers in vases filled our home, their abundance colouring my days and beautifying my nights.

The trouble with flowers, of course, is that they don’t stay. And after a summer in which they had become so tied to the moments I wanted to remember, I found myself wanting to keep pieces of them.

I am somewhat of a preserver. I like to keep things. Cherish the feelings attached to them.

Creatively, I photograph and write about the special moments I notice, giving them somewhere to live after they have passed — and later a place to revisit.

In my personal journal, I didn’t preserve this summer only through words.

I tucked in the very petals that meant something to me.

Wildflowers I picked during a hike in the forest.

Sunflowers my husband surprised me with.

A daisy gathered along the lake.

A cosmos picked at twilight beneath a full moon.

Fragrant lavender from a friend’s garden.

A sprig of forget-me-nots from a family walk at the park.

Birthday blooms delivered from a dear friend many seas and time zones away.

I wanted the flowers that coloured my favourite summer days to become keepsakes of the places I’d been, the people I’d been with, and the moments I wanted to remember.

There is something almost ritualistic about handpicking a bloom and delicately placing it between the pages of a book or journal.

Closing the cover.

Letting time do its work.

And eventually, opening the pages again to find a little piece of that day still there.

It feels as though I’m preserving more than a flower.

I’m preserving a moment in time that filled my heart.

Perhaps that’s what I love most about pressing flowers: time is part of the process.

The very thing I’m trying to hold onto is also what transforms them into something I can keep.

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As September settles softly around us, the natural world seems to shift with it: monarchs linger among late-summer blooms before their journey south, mornings carry their first hint of coolness, and the golden sun sets a little earlier each evening.

Yet tucked between the pages of my little book of memories, the petals, sprigs and leaves of my cherished summer moments remain.

Botanical keepsakes of a summer well spent.

xo 🌼