To all the Wildflowers & Keepers of the Meadow out there.
Welcome! This page is best viewed on a laptop or desktop, where the videos, images, and sounds can be enjoyed as intended. It is also available on mobile for a simpler experience.
This is a small place you can visit whenever you need a slower pace.
Press play and watch the meadow come to life.
See the flowers move in the breeze and the horses graze in the fields.
Read the letters waiting below, write one of your own, or simply sit and listen.
Take a moment for yourself. Set aside the rush of the day and stay as long as you like.
Play the sounds of The Wild Meadow
Photographs from the Adirondacks, New York, Florida, Tennessee & Canada.
Original photography by AmyLyn Bihrle.
Dear Wildflowers,
July 3rd, 2026
The heat has been hard to ignore.
This isn't the kind of summer warmth we expect each year. The temperatures have lingered far longer and climbed much higher than usual. Across many parts of the country, people, animals, and wildlife are feeling the strain.
Even here, everything seems to be moving more carefully.
The birds visit the feeders early and disappear into the shade. The bees and butterflies seem to vanish during the hottest hours of the day. The meadow itself looks tired by afternoon, waiting for evening and a little relief.
It's easy to feel unsettled when the weather becomes extreme.
We worry about our families, our pets, our gardens, and the creatures sharing the world around us. We watch the forecast and hope for cooler days.
There is nothing wrong with feeling that concern.
Yet even in difficult stretches, moments of relief remain.
A breeze at sunset.
The sound of crickets after dark.
A rabbit tucked beneath a shrub.
A firefly appearing just as daylight fades.
The heat reminds me that rest is not laziness. It is sometimes necessary.
Nature understands this well.
The meadow slows down when conditions are harsh. It conserves energy. It waits. It endures.
Perhaps we can offer ourselves that same grace.
Drink a little extra water.
Sit in the shade when you can.
Save some tasks for another day.
Let yourself move a little slower.
The cooler days will return.
Until then, take care of yourself and those around you.
The meadow will still be here, waiting for the next gentle breeze.
Until next time,
A Friend from the Meadow
Dear Wildflowers,
June 13, 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 24, 2026
Having a stressful day?
Unclench your jaw.
Lower your shoulders.
Take a slow breath in.
Now another.
The world moves fast these days. Faster than it used to. Faster than our hearts were ever meant to move.
It is alright to step off the fast train for a little while.
You do not have to keep running.
You do not have to answer everything today.
You do not have to carry every thought at once.
Take a few moments for yourself.
You deserve them.
If the weather is kind, step outside for a bit. Feel the air against your skin. Listen for birds tucked into distant branches. Watch the grasses sway. Let the sun warm your face, even if only for a minute.
And if outside is not possible today, that is alright too.
Close your eyes.
Press play on the meadow sounds.
Imagine yourself beneath an old tree at the edge of a quiet field.
Butterflies drift lazily from flower to flower.
Bees hum softly among the clover, busy but never hurried.
The grasses move in gentle waves.
Wildflowers nod with the breeze.
Somewhere nearby, horses graze peacefully beneath an open sky.
Nothing asks anything from you here.
No deadlines.
No rush.
No need to hurry.
Only soft wind.
Warm sunlight.
The distant flutter of wings.
And a quiet reminder that rest is not wasted time.
Take another deep breath.
Hold it for a moment.
Then let it go.
Stay as long as you need.
Feel free to dip your toes in the water...
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 a 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 the The Wild 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
Nothing is required of you here. Nothing is expected. You do not need to hurry. Take a few minutes and simply be.
Listen for the meadow around you. Wind moving through the grass. Horses grazing in the distance. Wings passing overhead. Life carrying on at its own pace.
I plan to leave a new letter here each month. Some will be simple letters. Some will be stories from the meadow. Others may be memories, observations, or small moments that felt worth sharing.
Think of this as a place you can return to when life feels crowded or overwhelming. A place to pause. A place to gather your thoughts before heading back into the day.
The meadow reminds me of something we often forget.
Not everything grows on the same schedule.
Some things take time.
Some things need rest.
Some things are still taking shape long before anyone can see the results.
I took my first letter and turned part of it into a song. You can listen to it below while you spend a little time here.
Some words are meant to be read.
Others are meant to be sung.
Perhaps the meadow enjoys both.
If you are tired, rest for a while.
If you are worried, let those thoughts wait.
If your heart feels heavy, give yourself a few minutes to set down the weight.
You are allowed to have slower days.
Stay as long as you like.
The meadow will be here when you return.
And so will this reminder:
You belong here, exactly as you are.
Until next time,
A Friend from the Meadow
Song from The Wild Meadow...
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 finger tips, 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!