To all you Wildflowers out there.
Welcome to the Wild Meadow.
Listen to the meadow sounds or to the Dear Wildflowers song written just for you.
Read a letter, write back under Petals for your thoughts down below, or close your eyes and listen.
Play the sounds of The Wild Meadow
Song Birds - Morning Meadow - Hazy Summer
Song from The Wild Meadow
Dear Wildflowers
Press Play
(Lyrics to read or sing along) I found myself out where the sky feels close and clear, A silent invitation, whispering "come stay right here." Watched the horses grazing, slow and free, Letting go of what was holding me. These letters from the meadow say, " Slow it down," Let your worries gently hit the ground. Take a deep breath, set your heart's intention true, There's so much beauty here, calling out to you, Dear Wildflowers. And every little thing reminds me, you’ve got it all right here, From warm sunsets to clover, fresh and clear. You’re welcome, you’re invited, come home to the land, With carefree thoughts and wonder in your hands. This meadow’s been reading to you all along, A quiet, whispered, deeply personal song. There's butterflies and honeybees at play, Winter whispers from the meadow, then springtime finds its way. Summer hums a gentle tune, fall whispers soft and low, Life keeps blooming here, it always seems to know. I’ve stopped a moment, let the whole world wait, Felt tall grass at my fingertips, felt sunlight on my face. And every little thing reminds me, you’ve got it all right here, From warm sunsets to clover, fresh and clear. You’re welcome, you’re invited, come home to the land, With carefree thoughts and wonder in your hands. This meadow’s been reading to you all along, A quiet, whispered, deeply personal song. Come remember how a child once believed, Every stone and leaf had something up its sleeve. There's art in every shadow, every sound, If you listen close, the meadow writes it down. Finding inspiration, right where you stand, A timeless story, held within your hand. And every little thing reminds me, you’ve got it all right here, From warm sunsets to clover, fresh and clear. You’re welcome, you’re invited, come home to the land, With carefree thoughts and wonder in your hands. This meadow’s been reading to you all along, A quiet, whispered, deeply personal song. So Dear Wildflowers, this letter's just for you, To know you're home in the meadow, your heart seen through. Through every season, come exactly as you are, There’s room for your heart, under the trees or stars. Sit back awhile, let yesterday drift your way, And know you always have a friend here, every single day. Thank you for visiting. Come back soon!
Dear Wildflowers,
October 2026 How has October been arriving where you live? Here, it is still mostly green, but a few trees are beginning to give themselves away. A little yellow in one, orange near the top of another. I keep looking to see what has changed. This is my favorite time of year, especially while the afternoons are still comfortable enough to stay outside awhile. The colors are changing closer to the ground too. Some grasses are turning gold while others still hold their summer green. The asters and goldenrod have a few visitors on warm afternoons, and there are drying flower heads beside flowers that have not quite finished blooming. I like seeing those different stages together. Nothing seems to be following exactly the same schedule. A breeze moves through, and a few more leaves settle between the stems. Lately, I find myself looking at where they land. They catch in the grasses, gather around the bottoms of plants, and begin filling little spaces that were open a few weeks ago. A small insect could disappear into all of that quite easily. There are more places to tuck away than I would notice at first glance. I have been thinking about these layers and how gradually they gather. One leaf does not look like much, but day after day, the ground changes. We tend to watch the trees for autumn color, yet there is a whole other view forming beneath them. Browns, faded greens, curled edges, a bright leaf still wet from the morning dew. Even the quieter colors have something to offer. When I picture the horses, I imagine them grazing comfortably in the cooler air, with fewer flies interrupting them. One might lift its head at the sound of geese, watch for a moment, and then return to the grass. I could happily spend a few minutes doing much the same thing. Watching whatever passes through, with no particular need to hurry. The colors always give me ideas for painting, but sometimes I enjoy looking without deciding what to make of anything. I can admire a leaf and leave it where it is. Although, knowing me, I may take several photographs first. Is there a tree you find yourself checking on each fall? Or a little spot you pass every day that is beginning to look different? I would love to hear what October looks like from wherever you are. Stay awhile if you would like. There are photographs and video clips to wander through, and meadow sounds or songs to keep you company. You are welcome to leave a note in the form below and share a little of your world. The meadow is here to listen. Until next time, Your friend from the meadow, AmyLyn
Dear Wildflowers,
September 2026 Summer is slowly coming to an end here in the Wild Meadow. The evenings are growing cooler, the light is becoming softer, and little touches of autumn are beginning to appear along the edges of the trees. I have noticed that when the colors begin changing outside, the colors on my paint palette begin changing too. The bright greens and sunny summer shades slowly make room for warm golds, burnt oranges, earthy browns, and deeper purples. Nature always seems to quietly find its way into my artwork, sometimes before I even realize it. I remember hiking in the Adirondacks one summer when a luna moth landed on my shoulder. I gently lifted my hand, and it crawled onto my fingers, allowing me to look closely at all of its incredible beauty. Luna moths are so much larger when you see one up close. Its soft green wings and delicate markings felt almost magical, like a tiny gift from the forest. The trees grew so thick above the trail that the path beneath them was nearly dark. Then, at the end of the trail, I stepped out onto the lake beneath blue skies and warm sunlight. The calls of loons echoed across the water, and for a little while, the whole world seemed peaceful. It was one of the most amazing days, and one I have never forgotten. This summer has not been an easy one for me. There have been unexpected challenges, difficult days, and moments when moving forward felt much harder than it should. Still, I am learning that happiness does not have to disappear simply because life is difficult. Sometimes joy finds us in the smallest and most unexpected places. A beautiful sunset, a luna moth resting on your shoulder, the sound of loons across a quiet lake, a kind message, or a little something cheerful waiting in the mailbox. The hard moments and the beautiful ones can exist together. We do not have to wait for everything to be perfect before allowing ourselves to notice something good. As summer fades into autumn, I hope we can carry its warmth with us and continue looking for those small sparks of happiness. They may not solve everything, but they remind us that even during the toughest seasons, there is still beauty growing quietly around us. I hope you visit again soon. Your friend from the meadow. AmyLyn
Dear Wildflowers,
August 2026 It has been hot here in the meadow. Really hot. Everything is still incredibly green and full, but there have been days when even the birds seem to be hiding and meadow looks like it is waiting for the sun to give it a break. Then today, the sky began to darken. The clouds rolled in, the wind picked up, and before long we had one of those wonderful summer thunderstorms. A low rumbling sounds in the distance. And then came the rain. Not just a few drops, but a good soaking rain. The kind the ground has been waiting for. Afterward, everything felt different. The temperature had dropped, the leaves and grass were dripping, and the whole meadow seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. I think I did, too. I love the freshness after a heavy summer rain. The wet earth, damp leaves and grass, and that wave of cooler air that somehow makes you want to stand outside and breathe a little deeper. Everything looks different after a good rain, too. The greens seem greener. Drops of water hang from leaves and flowers, and the birds slowly begin making their way back out as the storm moves into the distance. For a little while, everything feels washed clean. It's hard to believe we are already into August. Summer always seems so long when it first begins, and then suddenly you realize autumn is just around the corner. Soon the greens will begin to change. The evenings will arrive a little earlier. There will be that first cool morning when you open the door and can feel something different in the air. I'm not quite ready to say goodbye to summer yet, though. There are still warm evenings to enjoy, flowers blooming, insects humming in the grass, and hopefully a few more thunderstorms rolling across the meadow. Maybe that is one of the things I love most about this time of year. We are still very much in summer, but there are tiny reminders that another season is waiting just ahead. It makes me want to notice what is here while it is here. The smell of the meadow after rain. The sound of thunder rolling away in the distance. Bare feet on damp grass. An open window when the cooler air finally arrives after a hot day. Little things we experience year after year, but somehow they never feel exactly the same twice. I'd love to know what summer is like in your little corner of the world right now. Have you had much rain? Are your gardens and flowers still blooming? And are you holding onto summer for as long as possible, or are you already looking forward to those first cool days of autumn? Feel free to say hello and share your little piece of the world in the form below at the bottom. I'd truly love to hear from you. Thank you for spending a few moments with me here in the meadow. Wherever you are, I hope a little rain comes when you need it, the air feels a little lighter afterward, and you find a moment to step outside and breathe it all in. Until next time, A Friend from the Meadow AmyLyn
Dear Wildflowers,
July 2026 The heat and humidy have been hard to ignore lately. Hazy mornings, and by afternoon, the meadow looks very still. I notice fewer birds, bees and butterflies during the hottest part of the day. I find myself waiting for evening, too, hoping for a little breeze. Weather like this can leave us feeling uneasy, especially when we’re thinking about our families, pets, and the wildlife outside. I keep looking forward to cooler nights when you can hardly find relief even in the shade. The first sound of the crickets after sunset reminds me to exhale. When I picture the horses in the meadow, I imagine them gathered in the shade, tails flicking, waiting for the heat to ease before moving out to graze. It reminds me to adjust my own expectations a little. Some things can be done early. Some can wait. I don’t always remember that when I have a list in front of me, but a hot afternoon has a way of making the point. I hope you’re finding ways to stay comfortable wherever you are. Has it been hot in your corner of the world, too? You’re welcome to write back using the form below. For now, I’m looking forward to the next gentle breeze, and perhaps a firefly or two once the daylight fades. Until next time, Your friend from the meadow, AmyLyn
Dear Wildflowers,
June 2026 The fireflies have arrived here in the meadow. Or do you call them lightning bugs? I've always wondered what everyone else grew up calling them. Every year, I wait for that first flicker in the grass. It still feels magical. One evening the field is dark, and the next it is filled with tiny lights drifting through the air. With the heat and humidity lately, I've been waiting until sunset to check the mail. A quick trip to the mailbox has turned into lingering in the yard, watching the fireflies blink across the meadow and listening to the crickets before heading back inside. Earlier this spring, the horse chestnut tree in the front yard was covered in blooms and humming with bees. The dandelions have returned as well, scattered across the meadow like old friends. No matter how many summers pass, fireflies still fill me with wonder. I could sit and watch them for hours. I'd love to know what summer moments make you stop and take it all in. With love from the meadow, AmyLyn
Dear Wildflowers,
May 2026 How has your day been? If it has been a stressful one, take a moment to loosen your shoulders and unclench your jaw. I sometimes notice I’ve been holding myself tight without even realizing it. A few minutes outside can help me settle. There doesn’t have to be anything remarkable happening. The air against my face, birds calling from the trees, or grass moving in the breeze can be enough to draw my attention away from whatever has been going around in my head. If you can’t get outside today, perhaps you can spend a little time here instead. Press play on the meadow sounds and picture a shady spot beneath an old tree. Beyond the shade, butterflies move among the flowers and bees visit the clover. Somewhere nearby, horses graze, lifting their heads now and then before returning to the grass. That is the sort of scene I like to imagine when I need a break. There is plenty to notice, but no reason to hurry through it. You can read, listen, or let your mind wander for a while. And if you feel like writing, the form below is there for you. I’d love to hear about a place that helps you feel a little more at ease. Thank you for spending part of your day with me. With love from the meadow, AmyLyn
Dear Wildflowers,
April 2026 How are you doing today? I had hoped to write to you sooner. But the days have been moving quickly, the kind that seem to slip through your fingers before you even notice they’ve gone. Between launching the Wild Meadow Mail Club, building a brand new website from the ground up, and keeping up with my usual painting, art, and print orders. The weeks have flown by far too fast. It has been a beautiful kind of busy, but busy all the same. I’ve had to gently remind myself to slow down now and then to follow my own advice. To breathe a little deeper and let the rush soften at the edges. It’s funny how easily we forget the very things we offer to others. Spring has been doing that same dance here in New York. It teased us with a few truly gorgeous days, the kind where the sun feels warm enough to linger and everything hints at new beginnings, and then, just as quickly, the temperatures dropped again. We even saw a little snow, as if winter wasn’t quite ready to let go just yet. I have to admit, I’m not ready for the heavy heat and humidity either. Not yet. There’s something about this in between season that feels like a breath being held, a pause before everything bursts fully into life. There’s still a bit of spring cleaning waiting for me too. Fans to find, corners to clear, little things that quietly gather over time while life is busy happening elsewhere. Even so, my thoughts keep wandering back to the meadow and to all the ideas growing for mail club. There is a quiet excitement there, something unfolding, even if the beginning has been a little rough around the edges. Good things often are. Outside, everything is waking up. You can feel it in the air. The way the birds carry their songs a little further, in the way the breeze feels softer against your skin, in the way the light lingers just a little longer each evening. One of my favorite moments is the simple walk to check the mail. The view of the meadow stretches out, quietly unchanged and yet somehow new each day. Fresh spring air, the sound of birds, the soft rustle of life returning… it all settles something inside me. It reminds me, again, to slow down. To notice. To be here. I added a new section below where I will post photos I have taken during my travels, walks or just outside my home. So if things have been moving quickly for you too, if the days feel full or a little overwhelming, this is your reminder as much as it is mine. You don’t have to rush through this season. You can stand still for a moment and let the world move gently around you. The meadow will be here. Close your eyes, take a deep breath... and release. Until next time, A Friend from the Meadow
Dear Wildflowers,
March 2026 I wanted to make a little place where you could come for a few quiet minutes. Somewhere to read a letter, listen to the meadow, or let your thoughts wander. I picture wind moving through the grass, horses grazing nearby, and wings passing overhead. There is something comforting about imagining life carrying on at its own pace when our own days feel crowded. I plan to leave a new letter here each month. Sometimes it will be a story or a memory. Other times, it may be something I noticed and wanted to share with you. One thing I keep coming back to is how much happens before we can see it. A field can look still while roots are growing beneath it. I try to remember that when something in my own life is taking longer than I hoped. I also wrote lyrics for the song you’ll find near the top of this page. I liked the idea of giving these thoughts another way to reach you. You can listen while you read, or simply sit with the music for a while. I hope this becomes somewhere you enjoy returning to. You’re always welcome to write back using the form below. I’d love to know what brought you to the meadow today. Until next time, Your friend from the meadow, AmyLyn
