Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Time
like dew on the tip of a leaf.
--Rabindranath Tagore
I
keep several strawberry plants,
but not because of any illusions that our few plants hiding half
in the shade
and crowded by a gangling stevia plant and some rosemary
will ever produce a large crop of sweet, juicy berries.
No, they are planted because they remind us of family.
My husband's mother always grew strawberries when he was a boy,
as did my parents and grandparents.
I harvested some herbs yesterday morning before the heat set in
and the chirring of insects still filled the air.
And I saw something I had never seen before,
and it was stunning in its simplicity.
The fringed edges of the strawberry leaves
held clear and perfect drops of dew:
Perhaps this is the origin of the candlewick pattern.
Regardless, it is amazing what a little dew can do.
Of course, Gibran said it more eloquently:
For in the dew of little things
the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.
A nice thought for greeting a summer Sunday.
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