In the cyclical fashion of life and death, summer’s promenade nears its final steps.  I always contemplated why people spent so many hours planting flowers when summer seems to wink and flirt, and then without warning, scoot yonder before even an indulgence of a generous goodbye.

The Inn at Mystic, Mystic, CT

After having the opportunity to experience many summers in my life, I have finally figured out that the hours spent sowing, planting, preparing one’s garden….only to witness a spray of naked buds, yellowed leaves and empty soil patches, are an act of unconditional love.  If you could put the concept into words, the statement would be like this, “I believe that there is never an end, only a new beginning; I believe in promise and hope and the goodness of all things. I believe.”

On that note, rejigger and smell every single flower that you can on your next day-tripping adventure before season’s end.  Inhale, as if it is the last summer, the final hour, the final moment…breathe deeply the joy of now…and replace all of your mind’s chatter by repeating the following: “I believe.”

Jody Dyer, long-time owner of the Inn at Mystic, Mystic, CT

Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.

–Kahlil Gibran


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