All things must pass. The ranunculus are moving on in their life cycle, losing their petals to reveal seed heads. They’re the first “take your breath away” flower of the season, and I’ll miss them. In a month I’ll dig up the little tubers and store them in mesh bags, to start again next year. I’ve read that you shouldn’t expect them to produce a second season, though I’ve done it before — works one time, but not a third.
And of course, all things must pass. We know this, but when it comes to people, it’s harder than moving on with the seasons — and with plants they come again, in their next season. Missing my mother, father and brother this morning, and breathing into that missing. I experienced this loss early, was a teenager when my mother and brother died, but we all share this at some point. It’s not keenly painful today, simply feeling the reality of impermanence