A Flower, A Weed, Or An Opinion?

 

Welcome to July and my first outdoor garden in many years. To say I am excited would be an understatement!  At first glance it's not much to look at. I went for container gardening rather than in-ground because of expected construction in the yard this summer. To that end I just arranged some pots, put in what I most wanted to grow, and tried to make it look pretty knowing I might have to move it. So far I have cherry tomatoes, two kinds of lettuce, basil, rosemary, spearmint, marigolds, and petunias. The wooden bear is a gift from my sister that I've had since my first big garden 30 years ago ... he held up well! The rest is just window dressing. What I like most about container gardening is not having to worry so much about weeds. Then again, I've always thought that weeds get a bad rap in the gardening world, much like some people.

I once heard a very famous English gardener, Rosemary Very, say that weeds were just plants growing where you didn't want them growing. They weren't inherently good or bad, just taking up a space you wanted for something else. Dandelions probably have the worst reputation and is the reason those horrible weed killers like Round Up were invented. In reality, dandelions are perfectly healthy plants and beneficial to wild life. They are the first source of food for bees in the spring, their roots make medicinal teas, and their petals can be eaten. Yet someone decided that poisoning the soil and ground water was more beneficial so they could grow lovely but useless lawns. The poor dandelion lives or dies by the opinion of others. 

Sadly, that's the way a lot of people are treated as well, especially these days. Whether someone is useful or not, good or bad, welcome or not, is not based on who they are or what they do but on what others decide about them. The folks who pick your produce in the fields are just as entitled to live and grow as you are. The ones who run your favorite ethnic restaurants are just as talented in the kitchen and worthy of praise as a Five-Star chef

Mother Nature must have created dandelions for a reason. Maybe before we form an opinion based on the prejudices of others, we'd be better off getting to know more about them for ourselves. Just like discovering a new friend where you'd least expect to, you might just discover that what once was a weed turns out to be a valuable addition to your life.

And so it is. 

The Gift of Dirty Hands

The crazy, unpredictable month of May is finally behind us here in the northeast. On any given day you could pick from a selection of seasons all happening in the stretch of one week: winter, fall, summer. Spring only showed up for a few days here and there. We even had a frost advisory out for the overnight from May 31st to June 1st!

But now, thank heaven, real spring is upon us and I can finally get out and do what I've been dreaming of since I moved in with my daughter and her family last October ... garden! I don't mean indoor gardening on windowsills and under grow lights. I mean real, get-dirty gardening. My original plans to create some raised beds had to be postponed because of upcoming construction that will be taking place over the summer in the yard which includes ripping down an old shed, building another one at the other side of the yard, and extending the cement patio. What I created instead was a tiny container garden. This will allow me to move the pots if they get in the way of the construction and still be able to finally garden outside where things were intended to grow.

The first few days were taken up with laying out the garden fabric, putting down mulch and putting up a small fence to keep the family dog from investigating what Grandma was doing. Then I pulled out some of my old planters that my daughter had been storing in her shed for me for years. This included a little metal tricycle with baskets to hold pots, a hanging basket, and my sweet wooden garden bear that my sister gave me years ago when I  moved up to these parts 34 years ago and started my first garden. Then the fun really began.

Feeling my hands in the dirt for the first time in years felt like a gift from God. I only had my new gardening gloves, a gift from my great-grandson this Christmas, on for a few minutes. I had to take them off. I had to feel the soil clumping between my fingers, had to see it crawl under my fingernails, had to smell that rich, loamy smell up close. I had to push my seedlings and plugs in and mound the dirt around them with my bare hands. It didn't take long in that precious, present moment to send waves of joy, contentment, and gratitude flowing through me.

Edna St. Vincent Millay, one of my favorite poets, has a line in her epic poem, "Renascence" which says:

"God, I can push the grass apart

And lay my finger on They heart."

That's what I feel when I am gardening, when the soil in my hand feels like touching Mother Nature herself. I feel as if God is right there with me, directing me, guiding me. When I am participating in nature, I am in the presence of All That Is. What more could I possibly want.

It is still rough around the edges. I have two cherry tomato plants, some basil, rosemary, spearmint (love it in my ice tea in the summer), petunias, marigolds, and some lettuce seeds planted in a window box on the ground. Now I need to polish it up and see if I can't wedge a few more pots in here and there. I want to give it more of a cottage garden look eventually, but it's all mine and I couldn't be happier. 

How many people can say that they have something in their lives that brings them this kind of joy? How many people stop chasing their dreams, be they large or tiny, because they doubt themselves? 

"Move confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined."

Henry David Thoreau

I dreamed of a tiny house ... I have one (a second floor one, but still, a tiny house). I dreamed of gardening outside in a real garden again. I have one. The dirt under my fingernails isn't a nuisance, it's a blessing, a sign from above that all is well in my world. Indeed, it is!

Peace and blessings. 

April Showers Bring .... Mud Season!

The photo above is my new indoor plant stand in my new tiny house-type apartment. I have been really looking forward to having a yard to grow things in this year, but getting anything started at this time of the year in this neck of the woods is iffy at best. It is officially Mud Season. April showers here go on for days and weeks, with a few days here and there of sunshine and warmer daytime temps. An overnight cold snap or frost is not unheard of. So I continue to play indoors for now, pruning and re-potting my plants, trimming my bamboo plant that has taken off like wildfire (it must love it's new home), and praying every day that I will soon be able to get outside and do some real gardening.

I also have to confess to being jealous that some people I know are posting pictures of their daffodils and crocus already coming up. They live outside of town where there is more light and they have good, amended soil. No one has really gardened around here for years and the soil is thick, wet, and not very appealing.

Sometimes we have to take stock of where we are, what works and what doesn't, and act accordingly. When I had to leave my old garden out in the country, I had to learn to master container gardening on a screened-in porch which came out better than I could have dreamed. Then I moved into a studio apartment and learned to garden with grow-lights. Now I have a real garden to play in, but have to wait until Mother Nature decides that Mud Season is over and real Spring can finally arrive. Until then, I have to learn to be patient, read up on amending thick, clay soil, and look seriously at raised beds as an alternative. What works, what doesn't, and how can I find a way to grow successfully like my bamboo plant. If it can find a way to thrive, so can I. 

And so it is.

 

Mother Nature's Choir

 

Spring is finally here (at least according to the calendar)! The days are getting warmer, and more of then are filled with sunshine. The signs of spring are starting to pop up outdoors with the first shoots of the snowdrops pushing through the soil, and the daffodils struggling to do the same. The stores are filled with Easter candy and fluffy bunnies. Everywhere you look there is something that shouts, "spring is here."

There is another sign of spring that speaks to my heart. It is waking up in the morning and, finally, hearing birdsong. The only birds I hear over the winter in these parts are the crows and the few geese that live on a nearby farm that don't migrate. The first morning I hear the sweet song of the robins, or the notes of the chickadees, or the chirps of the sparrows, I know for sure that spring has indeed arrived. 

Of all the magical, amazing ways Mother Nature has blessed us, there is something about her beloved choir of birds that cannot fail to lift our hearts. Here are what look to us like delicate, tiny creatures who endure all kinds of weather living outside, not to mention predators always looking for a meal, and yet they can still sit on a branch and gift us with their songs. Whenever I hear a bird singing, it reminds me to be grateful for my life and all the blessings it contains. I do not have to live outside in bad weather; I have a roof over my head and a warm place to sleep. I do not have to worry about being someone's meal; I am fed by Mother Earth. I am reminded of how grateful I am every time I hear those beautiful sounds. I only wish I could speak in bird language so I could thank them, too.

Next time you hear birds singing, stop for a moment and give thanks for all your blessings, and for the Choir Master Herself that taught them how to sing. 

And so it is. 

Dreaming Of Snowdrops

I'm pretty sure most of us would agree that this winter has been beyond brutal. The continued arctic cold, snow storms and ice have left us wondering if we'll ever see spring again. So I've decided to put my focus on all things spring. I'm watching gardening videos, rooting new plants from old cuttings, reading my gardening magazines, and letting a YouTube video of spring meadows and the sound of birdsong play in the background as I go about my day indoors where it's warm. Hey, a girl can dream.

One of the things I dream about are the first flowers of spring. Most people would list things like daffodils and crocuses, and they would be right. However, for me the first flowers of spring have always been the snowdrops. In the Northern Hemisphere they may flower in late winter before the vernal equinox. They are hardy little plants and the sight of them pushing courageously through the snow to spread the hope that spring is really on its way fills my heart with joy. When I lived out in that small country village many years ago and winter could, and often did, stretch its arms into April, it was the arrival of the snowdrops outside my door fighting to hold their dainty little heads up that kept me going. I took it as a message from Mother Nature that winter doesn't last forever and we just have to keep our own heads up and look to the sun.

I often think that my greatest lessons in life have come from nature, from the plants, trees, and animals. If a tiny little bird can keep spreading its wings in the cold, and a gentle little plant can push its way up through the snow, who are we to complain? We just have to keep the boots and the shovel handy for a while longer ... and start combing through those seed catalogs with visions of green in our hearts.

And so it is 

The Long Sleep of Winter

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

but I have promises to keep,

and miles to go before I sleep,

and miles to go before I sleep."

Robert Frost

It is said that a bear hibernates in winter when food and water are scarce. By hibernating, they conserve their energy and strength so that they can put off having to search for food. I think I'd be okay with that. I'm all for conserving my energy and strength. I'm not so sure about the not eating part, though. But, seriously, what else is there to do in winter?

I like to think of winter as a time for my mind to hibernate. I like to give it a rest from all the planning, all the "shoulds," and let it just dream. I read lots and lots, both fiction and non-fiction. While I'm not one for New Year's Resolutions (which would probably all be broken by now anyway), I do like to set myself a subject to study, or something new to learn. Sometimes it's something physical like the time I took on the task of learning how to knit socks. Other times it's mental or spiritual, like reading books on forgiveness, patience, or discovering what I'm passionate about. On those few and special days when the sun is shinning, I like to curl up with my blanket and tea, and watch how the sunlight turns the snow into mounds of glittering diamonds. For all that people think there isn't anything to look at in winter, I can find beauty in the smallest things if I look hard enough, like the blue jay that creeps up on to my daughter's front porch to steal some of the dry cat food she puts out for the neighborhood strays. Or the call of a cardinal trying to find it's mate.  There is something to learn, and something to see everywhere if we just take the time to look.

Today the sun is shinning brightly under a big, blue sky. It is a whole 20 degrees and the forecast is for 35 later today. After days of below zero temps and wind chills, this sounds like heaven. Perhaps I'll take myself outside to see what I can see, and learn what I can learn ... and be thankful for the gift of this time to do both.

And so it is. 

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

 

The tree is up, the lights are lit, the carols are playing on the radio, and there is even a dusting of snow on the ground. Yep, Christmas season is here!

It seems like only yesterday we were still running around in t-shirts wondering if summer would ever turn into fall. Now it's ugly sweaters, warm hats and mittens. The stores have been filled with decorations and sales since Halloween. It seems like the older I get, the faster time flies. Either that, or the stores are trying to beat the competition by being the first to put up Christmas displays ... in October!

As for me, I still love my old fashioned Christmas. I haven't been to a Black Friday sale in years. I like to take my time, find that perfect gift for each person, and kick back with hot chocolate while watching "It's A Wonderful Life," or, "Charlie Brown's Christmas." What's the rush? The meaning of Christmas is lost in the hustle, bustle, and frenzy of "getting it all done." What's happened to "peace on earth, good will towards men?" Or, "For unto us a child is born?" It's not about the presents under the tree. It's about the babe in the manger. It's about family, friends, warmth, love. It's about hope.

This Christmas my wish for all of you are all those things: love, peace and hope. Let the magic of Christmas back in. It may be the best Christmas gift you'll ever receive.

Peace and blessings.

P.S. If you're in the mood for a heartwarming Christmas story, check out my new book, "The Christmas Cardinal," Book Four in the Maplewood Farm Series. Available in Kindle or paperback on Amazon. It's short, sweet, and filled with Christmas magic. Merry Christmas.