The other morning I was in the garden, and I saw some beautiful light on flowers. I thought I should go get my camera, but I had a lot of other things to do that morning. I thought, “Maybe I’ll photograph tomorrow instead.” And it hit me — “Now. Right now. There is no tomorrow for this light on these flowers.” The main thing that photography has taught me is that there is no tomorrow. The light shining on flower petals in dew will not be the same in ten minutes, yet alone tomorrow. I’ve known this well for a long time, but still I always forget and have to remember it again. To us it seems as if things are solid, they’ll still be there for us, we can take them for granted. It seems that life is solid.

When I was in college, so busy and my mind full of thoughts and tasks in the transition to spring; I would look up while walking between classes and realize that the trees had leafed out. Suddenly it was spring, and I had barely noticed it had happened. I had missed so much while lost in thoughts. Of course, we’re always in transition, and we barely notice it.

And so it is with peony season. The days have gotten longer, the birds have been singing. Iris have come and gone. We should have noticed enough to know that THIS would come, that the world would be so rich and lush, the days so long and full of light and color. If we’re lucky it registers, we really notice; but the petals are already falling, the days already getting shorter. Look! And then it’s already gone.

Remember the flowers, the passing of time, and the people in your life.