​May: The Garden Wakes with Laughter...

May arrives like a cheerful guest at the garden gate—wide-eyed, barefoot, and humming a tune no one taught but everyone somehow knows. The trees, now fully dressed in their finest greens, sway and shimmer like they’ve waited all winter just for this dance. Blossoms burst open with a kind of joyful urgency, as if the whole world has remembered how to smile.

There is magic in the air—tulips standing on tiptoe, lilacs perfuming the breeze, dandelions scattering wishes under children’s feet. The days stretch longer, brighter, sweeter, scented with cut grass and blooming things. Birds sing their morning opera from treetop stages, and bees zigzag like tiny golden messengers of delight.

May is a month of barefoot mornings and open windows, of iced tea on porches and dirt under fingernails. It’s when gardens gossip and seedlings dream big. It's a time for letting the sun kiss your shoulders, for cloud-watching, daisy-picking, and maybe even skipping down the path just because you can.

Step outside. May is not shy. It is generous and playful. It doesn’t whisper like April—it laughs, flings open every door, and shouts, “Come see what’s blooming!”

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"Tanya & me" (Copyright Wylddane Productions, LLC)

Coffee Day Thoughts...

"Coffee Day Thoughts" (Image and Text Copyright Wylddane Productions, LLC)

The rain taps gently against the windowpane, each droplet a tiny messenger from the sky. Outside, the river moves in a hushed rhythm, winding its way through the tall evergreens under a soft, gray sky. I cradle a warm mug of coffee in my hands, its rising steam mingling with my thoughts. There is something sacred about mornings like this—something that invites a deeper kind of seeing.

I sit quietly and listen—not just to the rain or the occasional whisper of wind, but to the truth that stirs within me. I am not broken. I am not lesser. I am not a mistake. I am a child of the Divine, woven from the same mystery and majesty as the river, the trees, the storm, and the calm that follows.

There is nothing I need to prove to be worthy of love, peace, or joy.

Too long I lived under the weight of expectations—some spoken, others silently implied. Expectations of how to live, whom to love, what to believe, what to hide. But here, in the stillness, I find clarity. I realize the only approval I truly need is already mine. It has been mine since the beginning—from the Divine source that brought me into being and continues to dwell within me.

I am free.

Freed from others’ expectations, I move forward with confidence. No longer do I carry the burden of self-doubt or the anxiety of needing to be fully prepared before taking a step. I trust the wisdom within me—the divine whisper that has always guided me, even when I doubted it.

This freedom is not loud. It doesn’t need applause. It is quiet and grounded, like the river outside my window. And just like the river, it moves with purpose, carving out new paths through the terrain of my life. With this newfound sense of acceptance and grace, I feel energy rise in me—not frantic or hurried, but steady and strong.

I know now that I am meant to shine in my own way—not to compete, not to conform, but to contribute. To speak truth, to act with love, and to do what is mine to do. Whether that means comforting a friend, sharing a vision, creating something beautiful, or simply showing up fully present in this moment—I trust that it is enough. More than enough.

The world doesn’t need perfection. It needs people who are free. People who are real. People who have embraced their wholeness, their wounds, and their light.

As the rain continues to fall, I smile softly and take a sip of coffee. I feel whole. I feel ready. I feel free.

~Wylddane