Be Content with What You Have

On the Pacific Northwest, we are right at that in-between season before summer fully shows up. Everything is in bloom right now. The whole city feels lightly perfumed by flowers, while a cool breeze carries traces of sweetness through the air.

It's also an intensely busy time. This is the season for harvesting wild plants, which means constantly watching the weather and temperatures, waiting for the right moment to head out.

This year's wild rose harvest came at just the right time. Wild roses bloom in quick cycles—reaching full bloom, fading, then peaking again two or three times in a short span—but this time, we caught the very first peak.

Being out there was honestly kind of dreamy. The air around the rose bushes was soft and sweet, and bees moved through the pink petals, busy with their work. I was taught by Indigenous harvesters to always leave two of the five petals so the bees can continue pollinating. It slows you down in a good way. You can't really rush it.

Even starting around 9 a.m., the work easily stretches into the afternoon. This time especially, the bloom was so abundant that even as we moved through the field, more roses kept appearing.

By late afternoon, I looked at the baskets and knew it was enough. Holding back the urge to take just a little more is part of the practice.

Only taking what I can see and carry.
Only taking what I can process.
And leaving enough for the ecosystem—and for whoever comes next.

It feels close to the idea of knowing when enough is enough. A quiet sense of gratitude for what is already in my hands.

I said goodbye to the remaining wild roses and their buds, then headed home, already looking forward to meeting them again next season.