Everything Is Waiting…

Despite the coronavirus, here we are at last, in spring, that green, blooming time of year. To paraphrase David Whyte’s moving poem, everything is waiting for me.

The ferns that continue to unfurl,

the tiny white violets on the lawn,

the tender blush of the newly emerging leaves,

and back inside, for our supper, a salad made with Farmer Kev’s greens and radishes, our neighbor’s eggs, and other bits and bobs.

Here is the last stanza of David Whyte’s Everything Is Waiting for You.Ā 

Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into the
conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.

Even now.



53 thoughts on “Everything Is Waiting…”

  1. How nice – it does seem like Nature is waiting for us to come out and notice it. šŸ™‚
    Yesterday, I took my camera out to document all the unfurling of the flags of nature. Don’t know when I’ll get around to processing them all – haha! Have a great weekend!

  2. Laurie, here, too, spring is unfurling, stopped intermittently by those frigid days that send everything back into hiding. Could this last cold snap really be the end? Here’s hoping as our garden is mostly in……

  3. Those acorns in with the violets remind me of a painting I was doing that failed. I’m going to do it again though, practice makes perfect…right?

  4. The poem is wonderful. There was something about it that triggered a memory of lines from another poem, and I finally found them. They’re from Mary Oliver, part of a longer poem called “Where Does the Temple Begin; Where Does It End”:

    And now I will tell you the truth.
    Everything in the world
    At least, closer.
    And, cordially.
    Like the nibbling, tinsel-eyed fish; the unlooping snake.
    Like goldfinches, little dolls of gold
    fluttering around the corner of the skyof God,
    the blue air.

    Spring is so wonderful, with so much to give.

    1. I have been thinking about the similarity between Mary Oliver and David Whyte. In lovely, simple language, their poems get to the heart of the matter. I particularly liked “little dolls of gold.”

  5. I too have been noticing the spring – more than usual I think as I am pottering more and less driven. I don’t think I have ever seen white violets but they are so dainty! Lovely poem too. I read it just as the kettle boiled!

  6. David Whyte’s poetry is beautiful. I particularly like this one and the idea that everything is waiting for us.
    It’s lovely to watch your spring unfurl. I think we are entering summer here (it was in the mid-80’s and terribly humid yesterday). Your salad looks scrumptious. šŸ™‚

    1. I am a huge fan of David Whyte. For me, his poems get to the heart of the matter. Gosh, it’s hot down your way. I’ve heard it’s supposed to be a very hot summer.

      1. It does get pretty hot. The humidity is the worst of it. That’s one reason I really appreciated this long spring. šŸ™‚

  7. Are those strawberries in with the violets? The ferns always have something of the clenched hand about them, as if they are part of a secret society and have together made a vow to go for it!

      1. The fruit is better but they are a pain to pick. When I was young, I used to pick in the fields with friends. Took us all afternoon to pick just a little bit. But we were on summer vacation and the days were long. I remember that when one of us would find a good spot, we would yell “loaded,” and the others would rush over to pick. That was fifty years ago.

  8. Spring looks like it is moving along in your area. Summer solstice is not far off! Thanks for the introduction to David Whyte and On Being!

  9. Thank you for bringing growing treasures into our homes – and for sharing your lovely salad – and for the link to the poem (I have googled and read it in entirety – just what I needed this morning).

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