It’s been a few weeks since I spent time in the woods. The cool darkness is welcoming. It contrasts sharply with the heat of the paved parking lot, where three young men in purple robes moved in unison. Their long strides carried them toward the woods, a backdrop for the pictures the dad figure was taking as he scrambled after them.

The forest smells of honeysuckle. The bass of a lone bullfrog punctuates the twitters, tweets, chirps, peeps, trills and songs of various birds. Old limbs creak in the breeze. The steady swish of cars going by on Fox Road reminds me I am close to home. Today I am happy to be close to home. I have been gone a lot the last few weeks.

I write this leaning against a tree, against trees, absorbing energy—sharing mine. I am too self-conscience to wrap my arms around them publicly. I go down the line; there are a few of them. I have done this before. We are like old friends.

Cotton from a cottonwood tree floats through the sunbeams like fairies moving slowly and en masse to a common destination. I long to go where the cottonwood fairies gather. Maybe it’s a music festival.

The buds on the honeysuckle plants are near bursting with potential, like the boys in purple robes, recent graduates. Brimming with promise, like the couple I am writing a wedding for. My kid tells me honeysuckle is invasive. I think about not liking it, but I do anyway.

Potential. Every year about this time, I get excited about peonies. They grow into themselves so fully that their stalks can’t hold their blooms up. Wouldn’t it be beautiful if we grew into ourselves so entirely that we couldn’t carry ourselves? I think the message from Nature today is: Be you. Be more you. Be like a peony bloom that falls over or a honeysuckle bud that explodes into a flower. What is the you-est version of you? Be that! A world full of people being their biggest, baddest selves would be even better than a cottonwood fairy gathering. ❤️