midwest magic

follow me there; fold your memories into mine

Dear Wildflowers,

June has always been my favorite month of the summer, but for the first time in my life, I think July has taken its place. Sure, the Missouri heat and humidity are almost unbearable this time of year, but I feel like this is the moment when summer truly feels like summer to me.

July feels like we’ve arrived—like we’ve sat down and settled into summertime. We’ve gotten to know it better, at this point, and now we feel as though we are old friends. July is when I start to see the summer magic unfold in real time; specifically, in a summer evening.

An original painting by my grandpa, Terry Cochran

There’s something about a midwest summer evening that holds a special kind of feeling to me. It feels like an evening ripe with peace and warmth, alive with the sights and sounds of nostalgia. The earth has really found its place among the deep green, the trees at home in its color. The cicadas are in full song, the lightning bugs on full display. It’s a sweetness that, at times, feels hard to name. A kind of sweetness that calls you to sit and just be.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Near the end of June, I was able to attend the Cultivate Retreat in Greenville, South Carolina hosted by Kimberly Phinney and her team at The Way Back to Ourselves. It was a trip that truly filled my soul. I felt like there was so much to absorb—so much wisdom, incredible poetry, perspective shifts—that I’m honestly still thinking and absorbing it all even now, weeks later! I shared these photos on instagram, but I wanted to share them here too. The quotes on each slide are from several speakers throughout the conference: Kimberly Phinney, Ben Palpant, Deidre Braley, Stephen Roach. I’ve been revisiting these words, letting them do their work in me and sink into my soul.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

One of the highlights for me was a Allana Walker’s breakout session, where we talked about the accent and landscape of place in our writing. We looked at how this is done in Anne of Green Gables and Huckleberry Finn. Then, Allana asked us to write a poem of our own about the place we call home. What makes it special? She asked us to invite others into this place—to bring them into our world.

I hope you enjoy this poem, which was birthed from that workshop. Thank you, Allana Walker, for giving me so much to think and reflect on! I had fun putting this piece together. <3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Midwest Magic

I want to take you somewhere.

First, down a winding road,
mid-summertime.
The land stretched before us,
wrapped in a cloak of deep, deep green.

The oaks on either side
reach for each other,
leafy hands holding
place for shade.

And then the branches part,
golden hour sun trickling through,
and our eyes adjust to this new space.

Follow me, then, to childhood.

Where the sun sinks before it stretches,
shedding its green for a pink gown.

Let's run past rows
of limelight hydrangeas,
lit up like lanterns 
along the garden paths.

"They'll lead us straight to fairyland," 
I tell you.

The meadow is just ahead,
and when we get there,
we'll recline and raise our faces 
to the sky, its cheeks
freckled with starlight.

You've never seen stars like this in the city, have you?

Sit with me, here.
Fold your memories into mine.
We can talk as 
story after story after story
tumble forth,
the soil of this landscape rich with nostalgia.

We can settle into silence,
and I bet we'll hear the cicadas song
slicing through.

They say the city never sleeps.

But maybe they've never been here,
maybe they've never grown quiet enough 
to hear the song of life
always humming
all around us.

- Taylor Blayse Rockley

Enjoy this clip of the cicadas singing!

Keep Blooming,

<3 Taylor Blayse Rockley