Just beyond the wildflowers and grasses is the mouth of the harbour. Fishing boats and sailboats and some bigger boats than those pass by this little spot at Fort Sewell and have for centuries. Old Ironsides even sailed past one day slyly evading the British.
The flowers remain here at the water’s edge through it all though. Every year they rise up, scatter seed, and fall back down to earth.
Perhaps not the very largest of jobs and yet it’s important enough for a little flower and for me as I sit next to it and watch the evening settling over the Atlantic.
a spirit of simplicity 
Isn’t it amazing how flowers just sort of tend themselves when they grow wild?
I’ve practically stood on my head, trying to encourage lupine to grow in my flower beds, but they do as they please. And for some reason, they are more pleased to grow in ditches than in my carefully tended landing places.
Time can be a peaceful interlude if we allow it. Your photo and words were very soothing today.
Just lovely. It is such a beautiful place to just sit in the quiet.