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a Savoring of Seasons

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Five years.

Today marks five years since my mastectomy.

For a long time, I imagined this anniversary would arrive with some unmistakable feeling. Relief. Closure. A finish line. Instead, I’ve spent the last several months slowly finding my way back to myself.

Coming off medications that had quietly changed how my mind worked. Reintroducing myself to my body. Starting to clear space in our home. Returning to the gardens. Learning to trust my voice again. Picking up my camera after years of believing I’d get to it “someday.”

It has been less like crossing a finish line and more like tuning an orchestra one instrument at a time. And every day, the song becomes a little clearer.

This essay began with a box of dahlia tubers I never planted. It became something else entirely. It’s about the ordinary things that quietly hold our lives while we’re busy surviving.

It’s also the very first essay I’ve published on The Whispering Grove. The website isn’t finished yet. It’s barely even started, really. But I’ve spent enough time believing everything had to be finished before I could begin.

This time, I decided to begin anyway.

Imperfect, messy, real. Just like life itself.

It all feels significant.

I’m really happy to finally share it with you.

Five Years

•

Five years. Today marks five years since my mastectomy. For a long time, I imagined this anniversary would arrive with some unmistakable feeling. Relief. Closure. A finish line. Instead, I’ve spent the last several months slowly finding my way back to myself. Coming off medications that had quietly changed how my mind worked. Reintroducing myself to my body. Starting to clear space in our home. Returning to the gardens. Learning to trust my voice again. Picking up my camera after years of believing I’d get to it “someday.” It has been less like crossing a finish line and more like tuning an orchestra one instrument at a time. And every day, the song becomes a little clearer. This essay began with a box of dahlia tubers I never planted. It became something else entirely. It’s about the ordinary things that quietly hold our lives while we’re busy surviving. It’s also the very first essay I’ve published on The Whispering Grove. The website isn’t finished yet. It’s barely even started, really. But I’ve spent enough time believing everything had to be finished before I could begin. This time, I decided to begin anyway. Imperfect, messy, real. Just like life itself. It all feels significant. I’m really happy to finally share it with you. Five Years

3 weeks ago

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Nikole Boyda McGuinness

creative & curious, storyteller, image maker, food lover, garden tender, floral arranger, friend gatherer & wanderer... Savoring of Seasons, slow by slow 🤍☕️🌿

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“Kitchen: (n) a gathering place for friends
and family,
a place where memories are homemade
and seasoned with love.”

~ Unknown

August 2026
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