Hollyhock of a different pace, I have waited for you for so long... the faeries drum the slow dew drop beat and you listen as I can't hear. Wait, it says. Patience, it says. Seize the night of your unknowing, Carpe Noctum, bring it to your chest with soft embrace. Allow a soft pace. Things become at their own time. Hollyhock, I would run to you each Summer waiting for you to bloom. You were Grandma's and now you are mine. But, since you have not bloomed each Summer since we arrived to live here, I have missed you.
The night brought you out. I woke to find you. Carpe noctum. I did not know your pace. I know you were waiting now to live among the other stars of the garden, those five-pointed stars of perfect growth. You smile upon the tomatoes and pumpkins. You knew you would come. I did not. I was in the dark. Now I, too, have grown for knowing your pace. I am blessed.
"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away."
Four years I have waited for this hollyhock of my childhood memories to bloom, just as I waited for the wisteria as shown from a previous post of mine. I live in the home that my Mom and her three sisters grew up in and remember coming here as a Grand daughter and wisteria and hollyhocks, berries and wildflowers filled my head. Waiting... it is so hard sometimes, don't you think? I have such things I want to know now, do now, find now, create now. I would like the pace to be mine, but, it does not belong to me, just as, truly, these marvels of Nature in my yard are not mine. I watch over them when they need it. If I am patient with myself, I will see myself anew, grow, change and embrace the quiet sleep of unknowing the future, carpe noctum.
~ Henry David Thoreau