tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64110426132810338522024-03-11T09:35:18.803-07:00Flower Bear's Garden: Growing A LifeFlower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.comBlogger497125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-39095957021457251322024-03-11T09:34:00.000-07:002024-03-11T09:34:22.179-07:00And So It Begins<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhL1OKQoniWkSllbPgLrRh7Vh2KQWWav-4C0VgtIvb6a8i2ZpE8XO7nMP3qK5mcNa3FeM78lZSaZxPMfWHRaNvIRV_u06_jq2xqEJ6VRKC6sxYecyCYFYEmsfSEo_wnJYFoleqqnXJ5ZiYUAahWgnbYasHrP7SeXY_bai5yk7NZN2ZTqJbGSR44MHxM9xfj" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="602" data-original-width="802" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhL1OKQoniWkSllbPgLrRh7Vh2KQWWav-4C0VgtIvb6a8i2ZpE8XO7nMP3qK5mcNa3FeM78lZSaZxPMfWHRaNvIRV_u06_jq2xqEJ6VRKC6sxYecyCYFYEmsfSEo_wnJYFoleqqnXJ5ZiYUAahWgnbYasHrP7SeXY_bai5yk7NZN2ZTqJbGSR44MHxM9xfj=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Right now the wind is blowing like crazy outside with Wind Warnings up all over the place for 50+MPH gusts. The bright blue sky and sunshine is a cruel trick that Mother Nature is playing on us, trying to convince us that Spring is almost here. Well, it may be a blustery day outside, but inside I am making a leap of faith that Spring truly is almost here ... I am starting my seeds.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now, I know that experience and logic tells me that here in the northeast it isn't prudent to set seeds until at least April since crazy March can still hit us with snow storms and frigid temperatures. Yet this year my heart is telling me to pull out my mini-garden tools and get started. I went out and purchased a bag of seed starter, some packets of herbs, some peat pots to get them started in and, just for a little extra insurance, a second grow light. I even picked up some lettuce seeds and a rectangular pan to start them in. Talk about having faith when the temperature outside is 40 degrees at noon while the wind chill is 30!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I don't know what it is about gardeners and gardening but those of us who are enamored with playing in the dirt and watching things grow have more faith in a seed than in humankind:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>"Though I do not believe that a plant will spring up where no seed has been, I have great faith in a seed. Convince me that you have a seed there, and I am prepared to expect wonders."</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Henry David Thoreau</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Birds can sow seeds. Squirrels can, too. They don't stop to question, to doubt, or to ponder. They just dig a whole and plant the seed. Or they just drop the seed in some dirt as they fly by and let Mother Nature do the rest. She's been doing it a lot longer than we humans have and her expertise is beyond question. Sometimes you just have to have a little faith and a willingness to get your hands dirty.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So I am doing just that. I am pulling out a handful of seed starting soil and gently filling my peat pots. I am marking each one so I know what I planted in which pot (one does forget sometimes when one has so many), and I am planting my seeds. With some water, some light, and lots of love, I have faith that my seeds will provide wonders for me: herbs, lettuce, and my faith renewed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And so it is. </div><br /><br /></div><p></p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-49047985469303806722024-02-05T07:36:00.000-08:002024-02-05T07:36:34.339-08:00Thank You, Phil!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiwXtxBE3QlLho8Hg6h3jh2E-5GTM9OJJfKrm2exTMU30JXerDdKud-fwEru6SncIDlHlwAf5gh08x7Cm0QO4Qsuq1zy3-c52VuoVmaSE718OJO6DfO4CDVJ-hBMMPqPe16xA5NYUixG6Djle7so5OM9RFeEakiHy4hj9PUf-TB20QRJ36RYmoRjeCXXEPr" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="485" data-original-width="1000" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiwXtxBE3QlLho8Hg6h3jh2E-5GTM9OJJfKrm2exTMU30JXerDdKud-fwEru6SncIDlHlwAf5gh08x7Cm0QO4Qsuq1zy3-c52VuoVmaSE718OJO6DfO4CDVJ-hBMMPqPe16xA5NYUixG6Djle7so5OM9RFeEakiHy4hj9PUf-TB20QRJ36RYmoRjeCXXEPr=w640-h310" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I was beyond thrilled last Friday when it was announced that the groundhog did not see his shadow, meaning that Spring would be early this year. It was music to any gardener's ears, but especially to those of us in the northeast when winter can hang on well into March and even early April. Of course, having lived up in this neck of the woods for over 30 years, I know that what old Phil predicted and what can really happen between now and the official beginning of Spring can be on opposite sides of the discussion. Still, a girl can dream.</p><p>What is this girl dreaming of as we meander into February? I dream of the first tiny shoots of daffodils and crocus pushing their pointy green heads up out of the ground. I dream of waking up in the morning to birdsong instead of just crows cawing us awake (no offense to the crows ... I love them but a robin is a bit more musical to wake up to). And speaking of waking up, I dream of waking up to daylight instead of darkness and actually wanting to toss the covers back and get out of bed. I dream of digging through my trusty garden bin under my tiny garden table to see if I have any leftover usable seed packets of herbs and something to plant them in. I dream of going for walks again in the sunshine without five layers of clothes and ear muffs. I dream of the geese coming home, and the birds laying eggs, and the world waking up once more. </p><p>So for now I'll hold fast to old Phil's predictions and pray that he is right. On those days when it is cold and snowy, I'll light candles that smell like spring and watch gardening videos. One of these days I'll wake up to sunshine, birdsong, and a handful of seeds just waiting to touch the earth.</p><p>Peace and blessings. </p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-86422288858236253792024-01-22T07:25:00.000-08:002024-01-22T07:25:14.357-08:00Winter Dreams<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgUfPu3AYydM5z1JElyLgEnDKAz1zdNLHS9X5l8wBA-n_1ZbE7KUJJ8uWZYFfb7LoDq61380YNxmcks60Hy6tcYxe55veLrY2G6ZFuslZlHjWVsUv97ABjoQp68W31i_Mei4DWj_a74p8K1237jtjg6LbDK6DZ7vkofZScyuKrTn4W6TYLkjHD9sk9gHjCI" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1125" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgUfPu3AYydM5z1JElyLgEnDKAz1zdNLHS9X5l8wBA-n_1ZbE7KUJJ8uWZYFfb7LoDq61380YNxmcks60Hy6tcYxe55veLrY2G6ZFuslZlHjWVsUv97ABjoQp68W31i_Mei4DWj_a74p8K1237jtjg6LbDK6DZ7vkofZScyuKrTn4W6TYLkjHD9sk9gHjCI=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">The snow that was softly coming down yesterday has turned into a undulating blanket of white today. It is only 12 degrees! </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;">One of the things I usually do at this time of year is to start ordering seed catalogs or look up seed suppliers to start planning my indoor garden in the spring. This year will be different. I am holding off because my seed and plant needs will be different by the time we get into the heart of growing season up here which is June and beyond. After six years in my little home three stories up into the trees, I am moving. By this time next year I will be living in an even tinier two-room-with-bath space that my daughter is creating in her home. Yes, folks, I’m moving in with my kid!</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;">There are many reasons for this, not the least of which is that I’m not getting any younger and knowing that I have family on the other side of the door is huge to me. The other selling point is that she has a yard where I can create a small, raised garden, and a front porch where I can feed and watch the local animals, and just relax. It has been years since I had a porch to sit on and contemplate life, and it has been something I have sorely missed, having grown up with one as a child. I used to sit for hours on that porch when I was a youngster, notebook in hand, making up stories and documenting my deepest secrets and dreams for the future.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;">So this year I will not be looking at seed catalogs. I will be looking at raised bed kits, and small movable greenhouses, and purchasing plants to fill both of them. I'll still keep a tiny indoor garden next to my writing space for those cold days next winter, like today, when the sight of something green and growing gives me hope for the eventual arrival of spring. I will be so busy planning and dreaming that I will forget how cold it is outside and the time will fly by. Before you know it, spring will be here and along with the new buds on the trees a new home and a new life will be blooming as well.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-aaf5beaf-7fff-594e-87f9-425c47a154d3"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And so it is. </span></p><br /><br /></span></div>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-89928015153408468122023-12-06T07:48:00.000-08:002023-12-06T07:48:41.247-08:00A Time And A Season<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHMvuYVPMSQU4gMsSssN8lfeM57FbNYAao1dsVMQA5YhN4RLVL26BfTY_6KdUPvhyr0UTfMOXdg_nhp0mWmdjjTO8fB5yM6kdrkTFhRjg1Q6TjwTxsdLTcpllsfMvNd77Ic9JD10eO7WZCcfH46NjzZnXBgSGm3haRR7SvdWyVgOieViibNfuT6Cx_58N7" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1000" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHMvuYVPMSQU4gMsSssN8lfeM57FbNYAao1dsVMQA5YhN4RLVL26BfTY_6KdUPvhyr0UTfMOXdg_nhp0mWmdjjTO8fB5yM6kdrkTFhRjg1Q6TjwTxsdLTcpllsfMvNd77Ic9JD10eO7WZCcfH46NjzZnXBgSGm3haRR7SvdWyVgOieViibNfuT6Cx_58N7=w640-h428" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>"For everything there is a time and a season, and a time for every matter under heaven. A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted; "</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The leaves are all gone, asleep under a dusting of snow. The skeletons of the trees stand out against the cold December sky. Up on the hilltop, the swaths of brown are dotted with the greens of the pines and evergreens. We say goodbye to autumn, and hello to winter.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So many things have been going through my mind this past week as I saw the seasons change seemingly overnight. I will miss the beauty of the autumn splendor, my very favorite time of year, yet I know I will also rejoice when the first buds of spring are on the trees to live another year, and the first flowers push their way through the last of the snow. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was saddened last week by the news that a dear friend had passed away. Even though we were thousands of miles apart - she in England and myself here in New York - our friendship stood the test of time. She was the first one to believe that I could be a writer, the one who was my muse as I began putting pen to paper. She was my teacher, my sister of the heart if not by blood. <i> A time to be born and a time to die.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I know this is a tough time for many people who have lost loved ones and must face this holiday season without them. For me, it will be the memories we shared, the laughs we shared as well, and her staunch, British boldness that taught me to "<i>keep soldiering on," </i>as her military father and Winston Churchill taught her. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So this last week I put away all of my autumn decorations and took our my Christmas regalia. My tiny apartment is now filled with the greens of the little trees, the reds and golds of the ornaments, and, of course, my Christmas teddy bears. Most important of all, I took my out my small but precious Nativity set to place beneath my woodland tree decorated with birds and animals, just like the stable would have been decorated on that most important night of all: <i>A time to be born, and a time to die. </i>For every ending there is a new beginning. For every season there is a purpose.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">May your Christmas be filled with love, joy, and fond memories. For in this most sacred of seasons, there is a purpose, too.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And so it is. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><br /><p></p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-7122300046289647342023-11-06T07:51:00.000-08:002023-11-06T07:51:11.173-08:00May All Be Safe<p><a class="Tab_tab__LykKB spacing_noMargin__Q_PsJ Link_link__mTUkz spacing_noMargin__Q_PsJ" href="https://www.pexels.com/search/videos/raccoon/" style="align-items: center; border-radius: 30px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #4a4a4a; display: flex; font-family: PlusJakartaSans, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Cantarell, "Helvetica Neue", Ubuntu, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; height: 48px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 10px; text-decoration-line: none; transition: color 0.25s ease 0s; white-space: nowrap;"></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEih5DII4a_NpjYkSWAyBSUFxZ8iKRmdv8Yq-eqv5vHxYM6kgYNUZqpPNN6WkTTXEJypTRQUCJkjFJrRvNqtvnNEzXTa1j0vkQpCCEZyfpq1uP3yMfxjWtBzxzjGjkCs6aJs7qdbVSR_1GvPD5P0m20AMAxNYVi2JEt8i7CSwJEsTvjo-5fp7KSWhFOk3uAz" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4928" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEih5DII4a_NpjYkSWAyBSUFxZ8iKRmdv8Yq-eqv5vHxYM6kgYNUZqpPNN6WkTTXEJypTRQUCJkjFJrRvNqtvnNEzXTa1j0vkQpCCEZyfpq1uP3yMfxjWtBzxzjGjkCs6aJs7qdbVSR_1GvPD5P0m20AMAxNYVi2JEt8i7CSwJEsTvjo-5fp7KSWhFOk3uAz=w640-h424" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><a class="Tab_tab__LykKB spacing_noMargin__Q_PsJ Link_link__mTUkz spacing_noMargin__Q_PsJ" href="https://www.pexels.com/search/videos/raccoon/" style="align-items: center; border-radius: 30px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #4a4a4a; display: flex; font-family: PlusJakartaSans, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Cantarell, "Helvetica Neue", Ubuntu, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; height: 48px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 10px; text-decoration-line: none; transition: color 0.25s ease 0s; white-space: nowrap;"><br /></a><a class="Tab_tab__LykKB spacing_noMargin__Q_PsJ Link_link__mTUkz spacing_noMargin__Q_PsJ" href="https://www.pexels.com/search/videos/raccoon/" style="align-items: center; border-radius: 30px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #4a4a4a; display: flex; font-family: PlusJakartaSans, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Cantarell, "Helvetica Neue", Ubuntu, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; height: 48px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 10px; text-decoration-line: none; transition: color 0.25s ease 0s; white-space: nowrap;"><br /></a><a class="Tab_tab__LykKB spacing_noMargin__Q_PsJ Link_link__mTUkz spacing_noMargin__Q_PsJ" href="https://www.pexels.com/search/videos/raccoon/" style="align-items: center; border-radius: 30px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #4a4a4a; display: flex; font-family: PlusJakartaSans, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Cantarell, "Helvetica Neue", Ubuntu, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; height: 48px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 10px; text-decoration-line: none; transition: color 0.25s ease 0s; white-space: nowrap;"><br /></a><a class="Tab_tab__LykKB spacing_noMargin__Q_PsJ Link_link__mTUkz spacing_noMargin__Q_PsJ" href="https://www.pexels.com/search/videos/raccoon/" style="align-items: center; border-radius: 30px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #4a4a4a; display: flex; font-family: PlusJakartaSans, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Cantarell, "Helvetica Neue", Ubuntu, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; height: 48px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 10px; text-decoration-line: none; transition: color 0.25s ease 0s; white-space: nowrap;"><br /></a>The other day I was crossing the parking lot behind my apartment building to deposit my trash in the big metal dumpster and proceed to feed my little bird and squirrel friends. I noticed a huge tree branch sticking out of the dumpster and wondered how that had gotten in there. Clearly the trash men were not going to take such a huge branch. It would have to be disposed of another way. As I was about to put my trash bag in the dumpster, I heard a voice call to me to stop. It was the young man who cleans our building inside and out. He pointed to the tree branch and explained that he'd found two raccoons down inside the dumpster at the bottom. They had probably been trying to take refuge from the cold and find something to eat. Since the dumpster was not even half full, they had nothing to climb up on to get out. So the young man had put the tree limb in to give them a way out. I carefully placed the trash bag inside and backed away. <p></p><p>Everyone needs a place of refuge. Everyone needs a place to be safe, to be fed, to be well, and to be loved. These sentiments are used, along with others, in what is called "<i>metta prayers." </i>The idea is to first wish these things for yourself, then for your loved ones, then for those you don't know, then for the world. Phrases like:</p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>May I be safe</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>May I be well</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>May I be peaceful</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>May I be happy</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>May I be free from suffering</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></p><p style="text-align: left;">Some people might have seen the raccoons as a nuisance, just some pests that needed to be eliminated or removed. I saw them as living, sentient beings who needed food, shelter, and, in the end, a way to freedom. Isn't that what we all want? Isn't that what everyone wants? No one is more deserving than others. Even the tiniest animals need to be fed, to be warm, to be safe, and to be free, and that goes for the human animals as well. So the next time you sit in prayer or meditation and ask for these things, ask for them for others as well. Who knows? Someday you might need someone to offer you a branch to freedom, too. As for me, I'll keep feeding my animal friends, and keep a lookout for those who need a hand up.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Peace and blessings. </p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-83278327536826636712023-10-23T10:46:00.000-07:002023-10-23T10:46:07.609-07:00Reflections On A Rainy Autumn Day<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMZxQEYjissFhExVFrfqj9imHj8LWlxxvsCErS-GkWs4gSk9V41ZidMJZ0oPA-mWKoK0xyubYSbv8UB2n7Uq1CgR7NYaFfjXDRjsYVkKBOE5x0EuttEsQYrsUTzmt_FdjCpzfN5VYFKlhHQnGXXWLnIIPHSELzpD_3_yr2p2VPf4f91gf1qP-tUYDPK0am" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="417" data-original-width="626" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMZxQEYjissFhExVFrfqj9imHj8LWlxxvsCErS-GkWs4gSk9V41ZidMJZ0oPA-mWKoK0xyubYSbv8UB2n7Uq1CgR7NYaFfjXDRjsYVkKBOE5x0EuttEsQYrsUTzmt_FdjCpzfN5VYFKlhHQnGXXWLnIIPHSELzpD_3_yr2p2VPf4f91gf1qP-tUYDPK0am=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I woke up this morning to a perfect autumn morning. The sky is a soft blue, and the sunlight reflects the brilliant golds, reds, and yellows against it as if Mother Nature chose this vista on purpose in case someone wanted to turn it into a painting. I only wish I had that kind of talent. </p><p>Saturday morning, however, was quite different. I woke up to dark, overcast skies. Wind whipped the rain around and threw big, heavy drops against the window. My beautiful leaves were raining down as well and I grew sad at the thought that if we have more days like this, they will be gone before we know it. As I sat down at my desk with my morning coffee and journal in hand, I saw propped up against the cup that holds my pens and pencils one of my Power Thought Cards from a deck I've had for years. It was invented by one of my greatest teachers, Louise Hay. This is what it said:</p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>"It's only a thought, and a thought can be changed,"</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></p><p style="text-align: left;">I remember watching Louise on a DVD of her movie, "You Can Heal Your Life." In it she said that by changing how we perceive something, we can change how we feel. Instead of looking out onto a rainy day and saying, "Oh, it's a miserable, lousy day," we can say, "Oh, it's just a rainy day." It changes the emotional charge we get from using negative words. So I decided to use the rainy day to make a list of all the rainy-day things I could do to lift me out of my sadness. This is what I came up with:</p><p style="text-align: left;">1. Chop up some veggies and make a pot of soup to bubble on the stove to make the place smell yummy.</p><p style="text-align: left;">2. Clean out my bookshelves, give them a dusting, and start a pile of donations for the library sale.</p><p style="text-align: left;">3. Bake some cornbread.</p><p style="text-align: left;">4. Find a really good book to curl up with.</p><p style="text-align: left;">5. Make a pot of tea (to go with the above book).</p><p style="text-align: left;">6. Call someone I haven't seen in a while just to say hello.</p><p style="text-align: left;">7. Write a letter or send a card to someone just to let them know you're thinking about them.</p><p style="text-align: left;">8. Take a nice, long, hot shower, break out that lovely lavender lotion you got for your birthday, and put on something warm and comfy.</p><p style="text-align: left;">9. Journal, meditate, spend time in prayer.</p><p style="text-align: left;">10 Make a list of things you are grateful for. </p><p style="text-align: left;">Wow, lots of things I could do to lift my spirits. Just writing the list out made me feel better. I didn't even mind when I had to go out in the rain to take out the trash and recycling or collect the mail. Since I'm not the Wicked Witch from The Wizard of Oz, a little rain wasn't going to make me melt. Whatever happened to that child who liked to jump in puddles? Maybe it's time I went looking for her again.</p><p style="text-align: left;">So the next time you wake up to a rainy day, think of some fun, cozy activities you can do to take away that sadness. Change your thought and change your day ... but don't forget to jump in a few puddles now and then!</p><p style="text-align: left;">Peace and blessings. </p><p><br /></p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-61166519515538399772023-09-22T07:44:00.000-07:002023-09-22T07:44:45.430-07:00Finding True North<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgx-zmvzXvKGaCQzS0CDJf-wnPJjyXtnMApbmQ9cfRLzrMe0yCfry4YyFdHm8A9YH4imbca0Qvkctz0jQKJ_UVZXFJxnd7i6Wr-OG2SEu2rXv4iwLPLT_P1-qL90rqetLI5cTHMivnrLN0rK8XuBD3CG8SsW90gf0RVEbJ9R6fDuzpOhw2EG8P3Yf1akuUM" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="339" data-original-width="509" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgx-zmvzXvKGaCQzS0CDJf-wnPJjyXtnMApbmQ9cfRLzrMe0yCfry4YyFdHm8A9YH4imbca0Qvkctz0jQKJ_UVZXFJxnd7i6Wr-OG2SEu2rXv4iwLPLT_P1-qL90rqetLI5cTHMivnrLN0rK8XuBD3CG8SsW90gf0RVEbJ9R6fDuzpOhw2EG8P3Yf1akuUM=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There is a small flock of geese that fly over my house every morning on their way to the river, and back again as dusk settles in. These are not part of the bigger flocks that are just now starting their yearly trip south before the cold of winter sets in. No, these birds have it made. They live on a farm not far outside of the town where I live. They spend some of their day on the local golf course, digging for worms and whatever the golfers might leave for them. When school is out, they hang out on the athletic field of the local middle school (kids always drop something edible). When the day warms up they can be seen floating along on the river looking for goodies and just doing what geese do. When the day is done, they head back to the farm, to a nice, warm barn, with hay to curl up in and a supper they don't have to work for. Yep, these geese have definitely found their "<i>true north," </i>like that point on a compass that shows you the way home.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I found my "true north" 31 years ago. It's the place where, when the challenges of the day are done, I can set my compass and find my way to peace, contentment, and rest. It's the place where I can watch the antics of the geese flying over my home twice a day, calling to each other, making a racket as they head for water, and then back home. It took me the majority of my adult life to find it, but when I did, I knew by the way my heart sang out to me, that this was where I belonged. I'm not in the same house as the day I moved up here, nor even in the same town, but I am still happy. I am surrounded by the beauty of Mother Earth, family, friends, and my furry and feathered neighbors. I marvel at the glory in the changing of the seasons and never get tired of them. I'm not one of those winter birds who fly south for warmer climates before the first snowflake falls. I just put on an extra sweater, pull out my gloves, and head out. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">By the way, do you know why geese make so much racket when they fly? A study was done some years ago that said they are really shouting encouragement to each other to keep going, sort of like a pep talk in the locker room before a game, but this one is in the air. When the leader gets tired, he falls back and and another takes his place. If one should have to land because they are sick or hurt, one or two others will go with him and stay with him until he is able to continue and they can catch up with the others. We should all be so lucky to live in such a community.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So the next time you see a flock of geese flying overhead, ask yourself if you know where your true north is. If you do, good for you. If not, maybe it's time to spread your wings.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And so it is. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-40548803777857107822023-08-28T08:26:00.001-07:002023-08-28T08:26:26.743-07:00The Last Days Of Summer<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgrLrqXbX2OWeAY6BGiqkRXGAfLbmXmH0PbFNKbj2x1PC6iBLdzBfLU-ex9lmyWiS-9xCXH6qL-RnI22DzOnSHL_lCS-TYBOorY7BLaENgmuGh0jl3wlFfoFUriAeeDXNoMZJcnrmDcPCHw9mUv8eAMANXmof9ZxIbdDUVI8bnCoAbMof6Mob9HQ_ma6pOr" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1125" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgrLrqXbX2OWeAY6BGiqkRXGAfLbmXmH0PbFNKbj2x1PC6iBLdzBfLU-ex9lmyWiS-9xCXH6qL-RnI22DzOnSHL_lCS-TYBOorY7BLaENgmuGh0jl3wlFfoFUriAeeDXNoMZJcnrmDcPCHw9mUv8eAMANXmof9ZxIbdDUVI8bnCoAbMof6Mob9HQ_ma6pOr=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>"Oh, the days dwindle down to a precious few ..."</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">from <i>September Song</i></p><p>The calendar may say that summer ends with the First Day of Autumn, this year falling on September 23rd, but for most of us it ends with Labor Day and the beginning of the new school year. Although summer may not be my most favorite season, I think it deserves a good send-off.</p><p>Every year it seems that Back-To-School supplies and Halloween decorations start showing up in stores earlier and earlier. This year I spied the first of these in July. July? Didn't we just celebrate the Fourth of July, and now we're selling notebooks and plastic pumpkins a few weeks later? Why do we rush the seasons by so fast? The older I get, the faster the days seem to go by. I don't need any reminders, believe me. I'm all for businesses being able to make a decent profit, but not at the expense of our lives, our senses, and the opportunity to make memories. </p><p>Our kids will only be kids for a short time. You can buy school supplies any time, but how often will you be able to play on the beach in the sand with them? How much longer will you be able to go camping with them, staring up at the stars in the night-time sky, roasting marshmallows? </p><p>And what about us? We still have time to walk on the beach and collect seashells. We still have time to take a walk in the woods, sit outside on a starry night, throw some hot dogs and burgers on the grill and spend time outdoors together. Let's not be in such a hurry to let that all go. Our time together on this earth is so short as it is. </p><p>Now, if I'm being honest, I have to admit that Fall is, indeed, my favorite season, but that doesn't mean we should give summer a shorter time. Even though this particular summer wasn't the greatest weather-wise in my neck of the woods, I'll still miss waking up to the sounds of birds calling to each other, squirrels chattering, and a morning sun that beckons me outside. We still have a few last days to make the most of the summer we have left. Let's give summer the send-off it deserves.</p><p>And so it is. </p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-7408609499202786702023-08-15T07:58:00.000-07:002023-08-15T07:58:00.723-07:00Faith In A Seed<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>"Though I do not believe that a</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>plant will spring up where no seed has been, I have great faith in a seed."</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>Henry David Thoreau</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg__oQHtxH43bdKeV45Z76wWB9MEJnXtInJZsgPNAAMi-0IzXMjdfsdR0uDgyheJXJ4rTJrHTNSwXVJ9XXoWNosV3fMzpTu6faDcnvnZPVU6ueo03IKAnkdSliJ5hTljvrrrSpTisKB4pMZPHI3Wde2SJh2Opdkl3BpD46hPPU36Y4ntEDJjVhJxH3GcpOG/s4160/20230815_104113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg__oQHtxH43bdKeV45Z76wWB9MEJnXtInJZsgPNAAMi-0IzXMjdfsdR0uDgyheJXJ4rTJrHTNSwXVJ9XXoWNosV3fMzpTu6faDcnvnZPVU6ueo03IKAnkdSliJ5hTljvrrrSpTisKB4pMZPHI3Wde2SJh2Opdkl3BpD46hPPU36Y4ntEDJjVhJxH3GcpOG/s320/20230815_104113.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br />This is my geranium plant. I've a had it for the last five years. Over the winter it suffered greatly and at one point I thought I'd just have to toss it. Then I thought, "<i>why not give it one more chance?" </i>If there is anything I've learned from my years gardening both outdoors and indoors, it's that one should never underestimate the power of something to grow, to fight it's way back into the light. So I cut it all the way back to a stump, gave it light, water and love, and now she's blooming again.<div><br /></div><div>This summer has been devastating in terms of my indoor garden. In late May we had a 10-day heat wave with temperatures well up in the 90's that forced things to bloom way before they usually do. This was followed by terrible air quality issues from the wildfires in Canada which necessitated either leaving windows open and letting it all inside, or closing the windows and having the air conditioning running 24/7. Even with grow lights going, my seedlings and new plants just couldn't cope. Even the ones I bought from trusted nurseries couldn't handle it. One by one they just gave up the fight. The only plants to survive were the old ones that I've had for several years, like the giant bamboo plant I showcased in my last blog post. These older plants have acclimated themselves to this environment and have absorbed that wisdom right down to their roots. </div><div><br /></div><div>I can't think of a better analogy than this one when it comes to getting older. Sure, we may be a bit rough around the edges, and sometimes our bodies let us know in no uncertain terms that it's time to rest, cut back, and give ourselves some extra love. We know, deep down in our roots, what we need to to do thrive. We've been through all the storms and changes in life, and we know how to fight our way back to the surface and into the sun once more. Now, every time I look at that geranium blooming and reaching for the sky, I have an overwhelming urge to stand up, stretch, and do the same thing! Faith can grow lots of things, even us.</div><div><br /></div><div>And so it is. <br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-4180438236879014432023-07-27T06:35:00.000-07:002023-07-27T06:35:49.691-07:00Putting Down Roots<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH27vdLzu8jWWmJioAQaXXielYQLL-jjENr-9Q31orDZOXEDQD5D8xtvFcLGO6pHnmoOauoBsBIj-VQMV8AJ_cm7iATGYdzZKcLf1jXQZUZeEmIDK9ZYrxSXwxrwYRaFR1DGVIlHrIOJg3mNHc4ljVRDqg9Ap4nbE1a-zpapMDt-xdeyhx3j7FMwkBQ3JH/s4160/20230724_074843.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH27vdLzu8jWWmJioAQaXXielYQLL-jjENr-9Q31orDZOXEDQD5D8xtvFcLGO6pHnmoOauoBsBIj-VQMV8AJ_cm7iATGYdzZKcLf1jXQZUZeEmIDK9ZYrxSXwxrwYRaFR1DGVIlHrIOJg3mNHc4ljVRDqg9Ap4nbE1a-zpapMDt-xdeyhx3j7FMwkBQ3JH/w480-h640/20230724_074843.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is Bertha. She is a bamboo plant. Notice I said "plant" instead of "tree." Bertha measures almost 5 feet tall. She is approximately 9 years old. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I purchased Bertha at a marked-down plant sale at Walmart. She was only a few inches tall and was planted in a tiny ceramic pot in very little soil and lots of horticultural grit which improves the pH balance of the soil in plants. I paid $5.00 for her. Bertha followed me from home to home, apartment to apartment and was placed in various locations trying to find the right light, exposure, and moisture for her to grow. Over time I can to accept that she would never grow bigger than about a foot despite all of my best efforts at re-potting and care. Then we moved to my present location, and dear, sweet Bertha came into her own.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">From the start, Bertha took to her new home and it didn't take long before she was looking pretty cramped in her pot. I decided to put her in a big planter and position her at a diagonal in front of the window so she would get a southwestern exposure. It was there, through the next 5 years, that Berta finally put down roots and reached for the sky. She had found her home.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Life is so much like gardening. In the garden, we often have to move plants around to find the place where they can put down roots and thrive. Some like a southern exposure, some not. Some need lots of sun, some need partial shade. Some like moist soil, others do not. I have lost count of how many moves I've made in my life, from the time I was a young bride in my 20's, to exploring life in a new state, to becoming a mom and needing to find the best place for my children to put down their own roots, and now, in what I like to call my "third age" (I hate the terms "senior" and "golden years"), I feel as though I have finally found the place where I can put down my own roots. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I turned 74 this week. Since I've been living in my sweet, cozy, studio apartment with the killer view, I have successfully gone through three joint replacement surgeries, written and published two novels, and am working on a third. I have created a welcoming nest for myself and love coming home to it when I've been away. My creative juices thrive here. If I want exercise, I have a lovely neighborhood to walk around, and 21 steps from the lobby to my apartment (who needs a gym?). I've developed new and improved plant-based cooking skills in my tiny kitchen just as successfully as if it were a full-sized one. I am content. I feel rooted. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It doesn't matter if we live in a huge, fancy home with all the bells and whistles, or a tiny apartment with a killer view. What matters is if it is a place where we can put down roots and thrive. Like Bertha, it needs to be a place where we can reach for the sky!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And so it is. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /> <p></p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-75621174563006427112023-07-03T04:43:00.000-07:002023-07-03T04:43:52.117-07:00Trusting The Process<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj920p_YOvsOk5ttkW2AG1jBN3HgI47O_ti3W4YyC8JqVeHR0f037ZvT7T5-NYfJxRsPsobdJBFn9nGy9dcVv39kdThsKhQG1RavxRC_EJLKhDA17JhoDoQjB46bmAXxq-eCgJ6aoQVWGXOrei9y-6RS8Ito-rhJ_Ca8e6RYCm5134LwOHuXOYktz3Bgfhv" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1280" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj920p_YOvsOk5ttkW2AG1jBN3HgI47O_ti3W4YyC8JqVeHR0f037ZvT7T5-NYfJxRsPsobdJBFn9nGy9dcVv39kdThsKhQG1RavxRC_EJLKhDA17JhoDoQjB46bmAXxq-eCgJ6aoQVWGXOrei9y-6RS8Ito-rhJ_Ca8e6RYCm5134LwOHuXOYktz3Bgfhv=w640-h512" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The apartment building when I currently live is situated in a lovely, well established, family-type neighborhood surrounded by trees. This affords me hours of entertainment watching the many birds and squirrels that have taken up residence there. In addition to the squirrel family that lives in the porch roof of the house opposite my window, the trees behind the building are especially inviting to my winged and furry friends. They are a varied assortment of evergreens, black chestnut, maple, and a host of others. The only drawback is that often, both in the dead of winter and the sweltering days of summer, my little friends are challenged to find safe, adequate, food and water. After having my heart broken one day watching these little creatures dumpster diving to find food, I decided that I would adopt all of them and become their grandma. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I started by finding a spot that was near the tree line out back and started leaving nuts, seeds, and the scraps from fresh fruits and vegetables (I am sorry to report that they definitely do not like kale, but that's an acquired taste for anyone). As the weather got warmer and the rain got scarcer, I found an old, small pot I no longer cooked in and placed it under the trees where it wouldn't get too much sun. I kept it cleaned and filled with fresh water. I did have to rig a small wire plant support around it as some of the squirrels were knocking it over when they sat on the edge of it to drink. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">At first, when I would come out every morning, I would see the squirrels sitting on top of the trash dumpster in the parking lot, digging for whatever they could find. As soon as they saw me, they would scatter and disappear. Once I started setting out the food and water, especially the seeds, the birds would come to life and start chattering loudly as if they were sending out a message to their bird relations: "<i>Hey! The food lady is here!" </i>By the time I would check a few hours later, it would all be gone except for the nut shells. As time went on, the squirrels would still scatter when I came out, but they wouldn't go far. One squirrel in particular would stay up in one of the trees but within sight. Then one morning, when I came out to fill the water bowl and lay out some seeds, one of the squirrels went up into the tree right overhead and just sat there, watching me. I spoke to him, softly, as I put out the feast. He would twitch his tail and chatter at me. This has now become a daily ritual for him and I. He sits either in the tree or on the fence a few feet away as I put out the food and water, and we have a chat. He knows I won't hurt him, and that I am there to take care of him. He trusts me. The day I realized that this tiny, furry creature trusted me, when most humans weren't to be trusted in their world, I felt as if I had been blessed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">If we can get animals in the wild, especially small ones like my buddy here, to trust us instead of run from us, what does that say about how we treat and trust each other? Animals don't know anything about hate or greed. They do know about love. They love their children just like we do. They want to provide for them and keep them safe just like we do. They want to survive, just like we do. They want what we want: a safe place to live, food to eat, shelter from the storms, and to love and be loved. If we can get animals to trust us, why can't we learn to trust and care for each other? The answer is, we can, if we just take it one day at a time, one person at a time, one loving gesture at a time. That's how love grows.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And so it is. </div><br /><p></p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-33550559648082527382023-06-19T06:26:00.001-07:002023-06-19T06:26:37.880-07:00Welcome Summer!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgDQh4IuXC5LFN0-GWs7CuxRu-JKbd2HlNqSLb6gwEmrHg8OsvZRs6Eks9g1ywx9T7jR2Jqk8iGHgGi9pKqcH3bG2bGqnNVVhLnObPHwV10pJplqP9s0sjhO1tjd79mwgSvkNjTICcMJyliHeRGF7A7-sbA1j_TIw0A3XxxlxXkMIliDQ6fCoEJJ8_4BstI" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="689" data-original-width="1000" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgDQh4IuXC5LFN0-GWs7CuxRu-JKbd2HlNqSLb6gwEmrHg8OsvZRs6Eks9g1ywx9T7jR2Jqk8iGHgGi9pKqcH3bG2bGqnNVVhLnObPHwV10pJplqP9s0sjhO1tjd79mwgSvkNjTICcMJyliHeRGF7A7-sbA1j_TIw0A3XxxlxXkMIliDQ6fCoEJJ8_4BstI=w640-h440" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Summer arrives on Wednesday at 10:58 AM here in my part of the country, but I decided to celebrate a little early and went to our big, regional farmers market on Saturday to get a look at the first pickings of the season. For me, touring farmers markets and gardens is like going to Disney World without the rides and people dressed up like story characters, although I have seen people dressed like fruits and vegetables in other areas!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I am so proud of our local, organic farmers who work so hard to bring us good, healthy food. I know how difficult it is to grow organically, especially these days. To be certified organic, a farm has to go through a lengthy and expensive process with the government. Meanwhile, factory farms who use GMO's, pesticides, and other, non-healthy practices get the subsidies. Our local farmers are heroes to me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I have to admit that, being a vegan, I sometimes go overboard when I'm turned loose in this environment. Although I do a lot of my own cooking from scratch, I still live in a studio apartment with a small, apartment-size refrigerator and freezer. My poor veggie bin only holds so much. Since the early greens are in season, I went a little crazy with the spinach, Swiss chard, and green onions. Some of our folks use green houses to get an early start, so I was also able to pick up some yummy mushrooms, a shiny cucumber, and snap peas. Then I had to go home and figure out what to do with it all!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The farmers market was not the only place that gifted me with beautiful produce. My own little tabletop herb garden is doing well and I was able to harvest some parsley and mint to make a batch of tabbouleh for my granddaughter's husband as a surprise for Father's Day. He loves the stuff and summer is when I make a lot of it. It was such a joy and a blessing to use my own homegrown herbs. It came out pretty good if I do say so myself. Then I used some of the Swiss chard to make a chard-tomato-garlic pasta sauce to toss with veggie pasta. Some of the spinach went into a smoothie this morning. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm not here to brag about my vegan cooking skills, but to honor this season of growing, and the hard work and dedication of our local farmers. Small farms that are productive and make the farmers a decent living are few and far between. Factory farms have made it more difficult for them, so I applaud those that have stuck it out and found a way to go on. Perhaps their courage and creativity will inspire a new generation to get out on the land and keep it going. Or, maybe it will encourage us to get out into our gardens, dig up that lawn, and plant the seeds of healthy eating for ourselves, our families, and our communities. As long as there are farmers markets, there is hope for all of us.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And so it is. </div><br /><p></p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-38924183592782936192023-06-07T10:56:00.000-07:002023-06-07T10:56:52.412-07:00Thirsting To Grow<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhrpBgdiYQYgOTfQDFDn50HzxJzvbKTZmd2hmhWRfPW0_xqn9qisbwWUDigVLvYssdJiIDsCmERnXfU9xxv8p9--T_81ylDuaWzDFVRu_revI6a6LFYEfluAF7q7aJoDIEKBkRzSGW12Silh5FpiBJ35lxfuKl92ByPDkIJd-0G3nTwy3IpWk1DrH9MAg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhrpBgdiYQYgOTfQDFDn50HzxJzvbKTZmd2hmhWRfPW0_xqn9qisbwWUDigVLvYssdJiIDsCmERnXfU9xxv8p9--T_81ylDuaWzDFVRu_revI6a6LFYEfluAF7q7aJoDIEKBkRzSGW12Silh5FpiBJ35lxfuKl92ByPDkIJd-0G3nTwy3IpWk1DrH9MAg=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As I write this, my town, and most of upstate New York, is being inundated with a thick layer of smoke that has blown in from the wildfires in Canada. The distant hills are almost invisible and the daylight is tinged with a yellowish glow. All of this after weeks of above average temperatures and little or no rain that has put us in a drought condition with everyone racing around trying to save their gardens both indoors and out. If this weather gets any crazier, it could be the stuff of one of those futuristic, gloom-and-doom movies!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">One of the casualties of all this is a lavender plant my daughter purchased for me a few weeks ago. It came from a reputable place that sells all home-grown, organic plants, fruits, and vegetables. The other three plants we purchased, a rosemary, sweet basil, and curly parsley, are all doing well. I gave them a day or so to get used to sitting under a grow light or on the windowsill instead of outdoors, then re-potted them into larger pots since their roots were getting tight. I made sure to put drainage holes in the bottom and followed the instructions that came with them as to how much sunlight and how much water each one needed. The three of them are thriving. The lavender isn't. On a day when it was going to be particularly hot, I had to run out to the store. Since I don't get direct sunlight until after lunch, I thought it was safe to put the herbs on the windowsill near an open window so they could get some fresh air. Unfortunately, I got held up with one thing or another and when I got back, the lavender looked limp. I gave it a good watering and put it back under the grow light. When it started looking even worse, I took it out of the pot to make sure the roots weren't pot-bound, put it in an even larger pot, and prayed. The next day it was completely gone, all droopy and dried out looking. I truly thought that a good drink and a bigger pot so the roots could breathe were the answers to the problem. In this case, although it might have been thirsting to grow, it just couldn't. While it wasn't the first plant I've ever lost, it still made me feel as if I had let it down somehow.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We all thirst to grow. We thirst for knowledge, new experiences, opportunities to spread our wings, put down new roots, and grow into the person we are meant to be. Sometimes we spring forward, and sometimes we fall back. We reach for the sun, only to realize that it has set before we could get there. Just like a plant has it's ups and downs, so do we. The trick is to do the best we can, try to stay awake and aware, and keep watering our dreams. We may be trying to grow one thing only to discover that we've grown something even better instead.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I took the dried petals of the lavender plant and put them in a mesh bag. When I take a bath, I'll sprinkle some of them in my bath water, or, tie the bag to the shower head so I can be showered with lavender. She may have lost her battle in the soil, but she is still sharing her goodness in the water. In the meantime, I've purchased a packet of lavender seeds and some new potting soil. Sometimes we have to get back to basics and start from the ground up ... literally!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And so it is. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-78602772131874727822023-05-25T04:50:00.000-07:002023-05-25T04:50:40.666-07:00A Rose By Any Other Name<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiB9A4AA4E4RvMTsBYGYFWtUPKCVv67dnnVG343-20T6VILF5zxBn9X8axhLCjjeb_JSWyiuiD0ZMwFuCTB0RA9eQWijDHuQuv1dYWPgyhRrALbyvOlAM2V_kU5xazPXd329RQYsvIhTY3bUHUxpc15KUQKzUD4CjovQP-ooAcdqO9U137-jubvAedRyQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="980" data-original-width="616" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiB9A4AA4E4RvMTsBYGYFWtUPKCVv67dnnVG343-20T6VILF5zxBn9X8axhLCjjeb_JSWyiuiD0ZMwFuCTB0RA9eQWijDHuQuv1dYWPgyhRrALbyvOlAM2V_kU5xazPXd329RQYsvIhTY3bUHUxpc15KUQKzUD4CjovQP-ooAcdqO9U137-jubvAedRyQ=w403-h640" width="403" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>William Shakespeare </i></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p>Thirty years ago when I took up gardening as a serious hobby, I made lots of mistakes just like anyone else learning something new. I watched a few gardening shows on TV and decided those, plus my love for nature and anything that grows, would be enough. Eventually, after swallowing my pride and asking my neighbors what was working in their gardens (and watching lots more gardening shows), I started to have some success. My herbs flourished, my flowers were beautiful, my vegetable garden thrived, and even my animal neighbors started to visit, my favorites being the bunny family that came to live under the pile of branches I built in the corner of the yard just for them. My greatest plant successes were begonias, petunias, dianthus, daises, foxgloves, and iris. However, the one plant I wanted to grow more than any others was my one great failure ... roses.</p><p>My mother loved roses. Growing up in Queens, New York, we were fortunate to have a nice size yard with rose bushes, lilacs, and a hibiscus. Even then, not knowing what I was doing but just loving to be around them, I would deadhead and trim the rose bushes for my mom. I always swore that if I ever had a yard of my own, I would grown roses as a way to remember her. Alas, all the studying and hard work I put in just didn't pay off. I tried them in every sport in the garden, played with the soil, fed them, even begged them. Nothing I did worked. To this day I still can't grow roses.</p><p>If I've learned anything in my 73 (coming up on 74) years on this earth, it's this: <i>We're all going to fail at something." </i>Failure is not a sign that we're stupid, or worthless. Sometimes failure is how we learn. I love this quote by Albert Einstein:</p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>"Failure is success in progress."</i></p><p style="text-align: left;">What I learned from both my failures and my successes in the garden is that as long as I was doing what I loved, and sharing that love with all the creatures that lived in the garden with me, it was a success. So I just don't have the knack for growing roses, so what? You should see my begonias! Even in pots they are thriving on my windowsill. The basil seeds I sowed are starting to poke up through the soil. I have a bamboo plant that I bought when it was about 6 inches tall ... it is now 4 feet in a giant pot next to my desk. I wouldn't call that failure, would you?</p><p style="text-align: left;">So here's the thing: <i>Do what you love and love what you do. </i>Who knows what miracles will grow from that?</p><p style="text-align: left;">And so it is. </p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-81071477635325472832023-05-09T11:14:00.000-07:002023-05-09T11:14:06.068-07:00Welcome Back, Sunshine!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpFZKqnLObpGsbLEZpWDnhuZWHwGko2qsbO3TnJzfTxk11HAmkTM96-t88PTthm9WjBt7dWVisQECyvkhz2LYGxkQenUa9fkWgGNbTRgT9UXC66OB8phJC2qN0V1cuP2PcnwD60-mObpnJxS6ZQ1SBZItRlOZDvqOYeSkuRG54ZDO0MKWU0NaZ_L-IYg/s4160/20230507_100559.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="4160" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpFZKqnLObpGsbLEZpWDnhuZWHwGko2qsbO3TnJzfTxk11HAmkTM96-t88PTthm9WjBt7dWVisQECyvkhz2LYGxkQenUa9fkWgGNbTRgT9UXC66OB8phJC2qN0V1cuP2PcnwD60-mObpnJxS6ZQ1SBZItRlOZDvqOYeSkuRG54ZDO0MKWU0NaZ_L-IYg/w640-h480/20230507_100559.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p>The first week of May turned out to be anything but spring-like. It poured with rain all week, with temperatures way below normal, and a wind that just wouldn't quit. Then last Saturday, as if Mother Nature pulled back a huge, dark curtain, we woke up to sunshine, blue skies, and the greenest greens I've ever seen. My first inclination was to start pulling my plants out from under the grow lights on my tabletop garden and put them on the windowsill so they could soak in the natural light they deserved. Since then we've had sunshine and more seasonal temperatures every day, and my plants have been soaking it up big time. I swear my wax begonias have grown several inches in just a week, and the plant I thought had died started sending up tiny new shoots. Thank you, Mother Nature!</p><p>So often in our lives we have what seems like a never-ending series of setbacks, a run of bad luck, with no light at the end of the tunnel that we can see: "<i>Will I ever feel better? Will the pain ever end? Will I ever be able to move forward with my dreams?" </i>Even getting out of bed feels like a major effort. Then, one day, we wake up and the sun is shinning. It could be literal sunshine just like the other day, or it could finally be a step forward: the pain is gone, life looks better, hope starts calling our name again. Wayne Dyer, one of my greatest teachers of all time, was fond of sharing this Native American quote:</p><p style="text-align: center;"> <i>"Even in nature, no storm lasts forever."</i><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></p><p style="text-align: left;">Just like my plants who thrived once they were in natural sunlight, my newly replaced knee felt better - not completely healed, but better. I started thinking about wanting to get out and start walking in the sunshine instead of inside a mall. I tore apart my tiny abode and started re-arranging furniture. Someone came up to me unexpectedly and asked me when my next book was coming out so they could read it because they had enjoyed the first one. The rain was gone ... on the outside and on the inside as well. Like my plants, I felt the need to stretch my leaves and reach for the sun.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Now, let's be reasonable. The rain will return as it always does, but we don't have to return to the dark thoughts and feelings. Know in your heart and mind that the sun will eventually return, and that you will be able to move forward. It just takes patience and faith ... just like Mother Nature shows us every day.</p><p style="text-align: left;">And so it is. </p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-71254409542081064652023-04-24T10:42:00.000-07:002023-04-24T10:42:18.459-07:00Forced To Bloom<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFHa_tMgpMzjQSjsj2I5xucdVdEaIaMkZwY8_6HT7xNSZk3iemy6d0c0JmeBzeucmDaQR48BelG-YWy9sn13CDftvPZy56oRowCNflpAiYlOUhsocgnbPDBSdp8mPoTGjPXr9qlXS5xFn-fvxGDkCaFsm5a4anvoo4s_tJxxA_t5mTE1RkSlSBhW26XA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="638" data-original-width="960" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFHa_tMgpMzjQSjsj2I5xucdVdEaIaMkZwY8_6HT7xNSZk3iemy6d0c0JmeBzeucmDaQR48BelG-YWy9sn13CDftvPZy56oRowCNflpAiYlOUhsocgnbPDBSdp8mPoTGjPXr9qlXS5xFn-fvxGDkCaFsm5a4anvoo4s_tJxxA_t5mTE1RkSlSBhW26XA=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>The wild and unpredictable Spring weather continues to keep everyone on their toes. We had a taste of summer that lasted over a week with temperatures in the mid to upper 80's - and even hit 90 degrees on two occasions. Then a wind and rain storm of biblical proportions blew threw and the nights were back down in the 30's with highs during the daytime in the 40's and 50's ... and then back to 70's and 80's again until today when I woke up to 34 degrees. It's gotten to the point where I have to make sure I have several items of clothes for every season available since I never know what I'll wake up to!</p><p>If you think this see-saw weather is challenging on humans, one can only imagine what it is doing for the trees and plants. The little tree in the front yard next door usually isn't fully in bloom until early May. It burst into leaf in 10 days! Everyone's front lawns look like the colors of June, the daffodils, tulips and crocus shot up out of nowhere, and the dandelions are already blanketing the neighborhood. Mind you, these things usually take weeks to happen at this time of year in this growing zone, and aren't complete until early to mid May. The unusually hot weather and all the rain has forced them to bloom at an accelerated rate to the dismay of hay fever sufferers. I have to wonder what affect it will have on the plants and trees when summer really gets here. </p><p>As always, I found a life lesson in all of this. Sometimes we humans are forced to <i>bloom</i> before we're ready. Some event in our life, like a death, an illness, a change in our financial status, or family issues, force us to come out of our shells and stop playing it safe. We have to bloom. We have to live our best lives for ourselves and our families. We have to step up to the plate and hit a home run even if we haven't even had a chance to practice first. I'm sure the trees would have loved some time to come into the season gradually as they are accustomed to doing, but the heat and the rain left them no choice but to burst forth and flower. </p><p>For some reason, this unusual Spring makes me think about my life, and life in general. After several months of health challenges that derailed me for a while, this big, bold spring is telling me that it's time to bloom even if I don't feel ready. It's as if the trees and flowers are taunting me, daring me to come out of my warm, dark, cozy cocoon and try my wings. If all of nature can do it, so can I. There's nothing stopping me but me. Time to bloom, girlfriend, time to bloom!</p><p>And so it is. </p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-81367901061756193362023-04-03T10:08:00.000-07:002023-04-03T10:08:55.331-07:00Answering the Garden's Call<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjdlXsv2NwJ0elEWUWJqligWdyNdL6aEP0kQt2x-x4sFxhamDX0bayE827CE6OoTIyj3wXAcJCJ8GRSzU59iHjE-c9YwFzgwfhHqGkjf3rL6GKH_I-90xhuaQLNYILpWLPMrou6UBdGeWVbIRggookks5vYi6ORGZ5tQOhWm4o4tgRQEXhlXn7C6hZfDA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="655" data-original-width="872" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjdlXsv2NwJ0elEWUWJqligWdyNdL6aEP0kQt2x-x4sFxhamDX0bayE827CE6OoTIyj3wXAcJCJ8GRSzU59iHjE-c9YwFzgwfhHqGkjf3rL6GKH_I-90xhuaQLNYILpWLPMrou6UBdGeWVbIRggookks5vYi6ORGZ5tQOhWm4o4tgRQEXhlXn7C6hZfDA=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">This past Saturday the weather went totally crazy, with temperatures up into the low 70's and plenty of sunshine before a storm tore through and took it down to 28 degrees with snow showers overnight! All I could think about as the temperature went up high enough for me throw open the windows was the pull of my tiny tabletop garden. It called to me: </span><i style="text-align: left;">"Perfect day for a clean-up, don't you think?" </i><span style="text-align: left;">So I grabbed my hand tools and went to work.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There is something about spring that calls to the gardener within us like bees to flowers. Visions of plants and flowers bursting into bloom, and ideas for new arrangements, or trying out new plants, flood our minds and hearts. It is our way of shaking off the winter gloom and welcoming in new possibilities. It doesn't have to be a huge garden. It can be pots on a window sill, or, like mine, a small table set up in a safe spot where, with a little work (and lots of YouTube videos), a few pots and a grow light, it can be your own secret garden.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This year I rearranged the entire garden, moving the fairy garden up front:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4F4rflSoRkDbGDs6_FHh4POX5UaLNoKKmO8FoiQvvmXuxPJe9M2t1nmNy5EYUTNovnX62dJGf52ibkKPYuCxLFP3iypFeO1SAl9ieilq3_0WOV9OGTC21-zxloQD-zcAFx0ZWr3bm7hUisC8NKVzRR0s979DAHILekp3ozovuhn85k1AtX-pC-53w7A/s4160/20230402_095643.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="4160" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4F4rflSoRkDbGDs6_FHh4POX5UaLNoKKmO8FoiQvvmXuxPJe9M2t1nmNy5EYUTNovnX62dJGf52ibkKPYuCxLFP3iypFeO1SAl9ieilq3_0WOV9OGTC21-zxloQD-zcAFx0ZWr3bm7hUisC8NKVzRR0s979DAHILekp3ozovuhn85k1AtX-pC-53w7A/w400-h300/20230402_095643.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Gave the larger plants more room - the begonias spent the winter doubling in size!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib9zhl4JeRll2JjCusiP3Yn8ypv9CyVX18Nh7Ru_-pSRDYoMO0YIMyzmxb1TdpvNbjSTdS4ohXXCVwavFTNTvVxCcrHjTwci7DO1HWK8qVPP8TGHqQXnJGPC4erzu9kstnnbW3kLGH6jZJgGgQiv-P3rIVKcvBmMDwh0__Wq-AcEr0K5f1H-CXDPglfA/s4160/20230402_095646.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="4160" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib9zhl4JeRll2JjCusiP3Yn8ypv9CyVX18Nh7Ru_-pSRDYoMO0YIMyzmxb1TdpvNbjSTdS4ohXXCVwavFTNTvVxCcrHjTwci7DO1HWK8qVPP8TGHqQXnJGPC4erzu9kstnnbW3kLGH6jZJgGgQiv-P3rIVKcvBmMDwh0__Wq-AcEr0K5f1H-CXDPglfA/w400-h300/20230402_095646.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>Can you see the little cat thermometer hiding behind the leaves?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9iR8k5bk06qWMF3iesp2HQz3OSb0eH7oP5Oh9wVY3mU1gukLIN3J7mWflO_T4LH-PULNBzf58eL6lZRZK_SoShtz-NL_u14yI1pinyaJW236gvGRF7f8qVGVip8GDjT5nhQeLrGXI2OgkWX2WTb-D1YdLjBgpcmDZf5Sm15zmTMjAuyAncb1PO3mZuQ/s4160/20230402_095658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="4160" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9iR8k5bk06qWMF3iesp2HQz3OSb0eH7oP5Oh9wVY3mU1gukLIN3J7mWflO_T4LH-PULNBzf58eL6lZRZK_SoShtz-NL_u14yI1pinyaJW236gvGRF7f8qVGVip8GDjT5nhQeLrGXI2OgkWX2WTb-D1YdLjBgpcmDZf5Sm15zmTMjAuyAncb1PO3mZuQ/w400-h300/20230402_095658.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Everyone got a good pruning, had their soil aerated, and got a healthy drink. I won't be adding any new plants just yet. I have lived up here long enough to know that, even with a grow light, we can get hit with an April snowstorm and below freezing overnight temps that will challenge anything new, especially if I'm starting from seed or introducing something that was grown in a hot house. I will wait at least until mid-May to go plant shopping. As for starting plants from seed, while I haven't been successful in doing so in this location, I am contemplating purchasing or creating a mini-greenhouse to give them a better chance of surviving. Just thinking about going shopping for gardening supplies puts a smile on my face!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sometimes, especially after a long, cold, gloomy winter, it's not the big things that bring us joy, but the little things, things we do with our own hands, things we love, that give spring it's reputation for offering us new ideas, new hopes, and new beginnings. On Saturday, before winter made a last ditch attempt to seize the day, I felt that joy with dirty hands, a fairy village, and plants that, I swear, are happier for the time I spent with them. Love comes in all shapes and colors, even green.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And so it is.</div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-19535036175358182762023-03-23T07:52:00.000-07:002023-03-23T07:52:46.690-07:00Welcome Spring ... Finally!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhYX9Ing2a_O3ZiWqm1UNidUlVTwPLTleiRgYE8yuus_8XC4I9Iz1Ryrs7oyzi_oo3Ifie30upyyebVFnc3nOLMJ-XlWhtqqQp-_76rELwl72S-KyUcXIAwqlUF4kZVywOSXp5CrkraW5E5pkB1M-85axcpJWwY8qrYb5XIaBGEVuZVfhxMZtWuqPyNxQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="325" data-original-width="527" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhYX9Ing2a_O3ZiWqm1UNidUlVTwPLTleiRgYE8yuus_8XC4I9Iz1Ryrs7oyzi_oo3Ifie30upyyebVFnc3nOLMJ-XlWhtqqQp-_76rELwl72S-KyUcXIAwqlUF4kZVywOSXp5CrkraW5E5pkB1M-85axcpJWwY8qrYb5XIaBGEVuZVfhxMZtWuqPyNxQ=w400-h246" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">The people responsible for creating the Gregorian calendar that we follow obviously never experienced the seasons in upstate New York. It may say that the first day of spring is March 20 on paper, but up here we are as likely to have several inches of snow on the ground as we are to have the first snowdrops popping up in our gardens. This year we were blessed to have a cool but sunny day to welcome spring and I could not resist throwing open my windows to usher in the new season inside as well as outside.</span></p><p><b id="docs-internal-guid-e52ccf3d-7fff-9114-b4e0-3bef6bcb5ac5" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Still, I have been blessed to be able to see small hints that spring is finally upon us. The “angry birds,” as I call them, are once again building a nest in the hollowed out piece of siding on the house next door. Day after day I watch the mother bird haul in nesting material, sometimes pieces of long grasses or corn silks so big she has to drag them inch by inch through the opening. My squirrel family has been more active as well. During the winter they only go out in search of food and return to the warmth of their home under the porch roof as soon as possible. Lately, however, I’ve seen them playing tag in the huge pine tree and across the fences out back. My daughter and I have been putting out scraps of fruit, veggies, nuts and seeds all winter, and now when they see us coming, they sit and wait patiently instead of running away. It warms my heart to think that they trust us now. Of course, the biggest sign was the one that woke me up the other morning as a huge flock of geese came squawking and flapping across the sky overhead announcing to all that they were, indeed, home again. </span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">As cold as it’s been up here (wind chills in the single digits only a week ago), there have been tiny green shoots poking up through the front gardens of the neighboring houses and in the area surrounding my church, the daffodils have begun to show themselves. I know that we are still far from safe where the weather is concerned, having lived through many April snowstorms in the 30 years I’ve lived up here, but I hold out hope that, perhaps this year, we may get lucky. Yesterday I actually saw an insect flying around outside my window, the first one I’ve seen since autumn. If that’s not a sign that spring is really here, I don’t know what is. I call it a sign of hope carried in on tiny wings. Spring has come again!</span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">And so it is.</span></p><p><br /><br /></p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-52319002800376860292023-03-06T07:26:00.001-08:002023-03-06T07:26:27.458-08:00Of Nests, and Nuts, and Other Things<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhh7USmu92n-6EOfKB6NmeG46XlAib7gsnyHOd7IeWWAATN9T5XiUpFTgmIIrD6Y5ug72rxd-NUwKy4UVWnOAzibp5t7kbrpMd8Jfb1sTe4wHWw3vK4CFcwAWYyl5Ks_kryBHJj5S78Y3dTt-sZ2x5A4vk9Uu5nVFpvhcFoWts7xy6tAUa_dXnY5MR83g" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="500" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhh7USmu92n-6EOfKB6NmeG46XlAib7gsnyHOd7IeWWAATN9T5XiUpFTgmIIrD6Y5ug72rxd-NUwKy4UVWnOAzibp5t7kbrpMd8Jfb1sTe4wHWw3vK4CFcwAWYyl5Ks_kryBHJj5S78Y3dTt-sZ2x5A4vk9Uu5nVFpvhcFoWts7xy6tAUa_dXnY5MR83g=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>It feels like forever since I've been back here, sitting at my desk, watching my furry and feathered neighbors go about their lives and writing about it. I had a total knee replacement done a few weeks ago which has been a lot harder than I thought it would be. This morning as I sat sipping my coffee in the only comfortable armchair in the living room, I heard a slight tapping on the window and some tweeting. From the corner of the window, peeking out from behind the open curtain, sat a little finch on the outside ledge looking in and tapping away. He was only there for a moment, flying off as soon as I struggled to my feet, but it was enough to get me out of my chair, and out of my pity-party, and over to my desk chair to take up my observations once again. The armchair may soothe my body, but my window on the world soothes my soul.</p><p>The birds that live in the cracks and crevices of the house next door have started repairing their nest. In and out they go, hauling strands of dried corn silk, long grasses and other items bigger than they are through the hole in the siding. This will be their third year there and I can't wait until that spring morning when I see tiny beaks poking out, calling for their breakfast. </p><p>My daughter has been taking care of my squirrel friends while I have been laid up and unable to haul food out to them. We have had some crazy weather, spring one day and winter the next, but I did notice that they are moving around more, scampering up and down the pine tree and even playing tag from time to time. We have continued to put out nuts and seeds for them as well as for the birds. Recently I saw two of my neighbors also putting out nuts and scraps. Maybe I've started a trend. It warms my heart to know that others feel for our animal relations as well.</p><p>Sometimes even in the darkest moments of life, it's the little things that help to pull us out of our misery and into the light of a new day. That little tap, tap, tap, on my window this morning helped me to rise and move on, redirecting my attention on the positive. If birds are nest building, can spring be far behind? If squirrels are playing tag again, and the first tiny shoots of the daffodils are pushing up through the ground, can baby birds and buds on trees be on their way? Those are the things I will look for now. Those are the things that will get me up and out of my comfort zone and over to my window on the world until I can be out there with my little neighbors, spreading nuts, seeds, and love.</p><p>And so it is. </p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-58611812020756578092023-02-06T05:47:00.000-08:002023-02-06T05:47:26.739-08:00In Defense of Punxsutawney Phil<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_kCdVBJQ55GFWs6CLNPckJ2UrWxNO2pxl9u-rMNjokh8OZ2z5CDBci9azrMvvpPKi17uw14oEoUKPc4elgBpp5O32mP85yWOi_uAMAdUvFb_2di0NYgw2un5m-1fC34Y74d654Ev0QM3XaQCV5IMebmtuqbAlKn6DjPCCFJirNFFyytkilFaZb2YuSA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1300" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_kCdVBJQ55GFWs6CLNPckJ2UrWxNO2pxl9u-rMNjokh8OZ2z5CDBci9azrMvvpPKi17uw14oEoUKPc4elgBpp5O32mP85yWOi_uAMAdUvFb_2di0NYgw2un5m-1fC34Y74d654Ev0QM3XaQCV5IMebmtuqbAlKn6DjPCCFJirNFFyytkilFaZb2YuSA=w400-h295" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I feel compelled to lift my voice in defense of that poor, misunderstood groundhog, old Punxsutawney Phil. He gets all the blame for predicting six more weeks of winter which doesn't sit well with most of us here in the northern hemisphere, and especially if you live in the northeast where April snowstorms are not unusual ... and that's exactly my point.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> It's true that we can learn a great deal from watching our animal and insect friends in nature as the Native Americans did for centuries before we showed up here, and still do. The wooly caterpillar is supposed to be able to tell us how harsh a winter we're going to have. The geese, and other birds, flying south indicate the end of autumn and the beginning of colder weather ... although you couldn't tell it by the flock of geese who live on a nearby farm, complete with shelter, food, and all the comforts of home. They fly over every morning, weather permitting, and fly back at supper time. No fools are they. Why exhaust yourself flying thousands of miles when you have it good right here? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Anyway, of all the animals on the planet that people use to gauge the seasons, poor Phil gets the worst of it. When February 2 rolls around, he has to bear the burden of bringing the bad news that we'll have six more weeks of winter. I'm here to tell you why that's not fair.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Phil is not a meteorologist! He's a large rodent! </i>Honestly, he has no more power to predict the seasons than my squirrel neighbors. He has to hunker down and wait it out just like the rest of us. I'm sure he'd rather stay nice and warm in his den than be manhandled every year and dragged out to take the blame for what is the normal passing of the seasons in this part of the world. I know I would. We humans are always looking for a scapegoat or, in this case, scape-ground hog, to blame someone for things out of our control. Seriously, we should be more like the bears. They have enough sense to stock up and sleep it out until spring. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So my advice to you all is this: <i>Get over yourselves! </i>Take life as it comes, enjoy each day, and be glad you are alive. Leave Phil and his mates to live their own lives in peace. How'd you like to be dragged out of your home in winter at the crack of dawn? Case closed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And so it is. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">P.S. Phil wanted you to know that he would like one of those nifty top hats for himself. </div><br /><p></p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-89432909336415309912023-01-22T07:27:00.000-08:002023-01-22T07:27:03.708-08:00Faith In A Seed<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjDFzh_OErzbyWVqnxTDj_jnogB6Cp64OWujAvl2JR0wr_WM588ZQIle6Yj3FV2PqBMfGG8fUOqHzCkzdVSHVRy2EeHQ1fe0-8CIk2rfa_ol6DB9Ag9irbBgYVw8bX0RTBONWARwcy1NON5rjXj1Krmgl4i-7YtFfQUcFp1Zm6n1aMsfZlAahCwMD2GuA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="266" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjDFzh_OErzbyWVqnxTDj_jnogB6Cp64OWujAvl2JR0wr_WM588ZQIle6Yj3FV2PqBMfGG8fUOqHzCkzdVSHVRy2EeHQ1fe0-8CIk2rfa_ol6DB9Ag9irbBgYVw8bX0RTBONWARwcy1NON5rjXj1Krmgl4i-7YtFfQUcFp1Zm6n1aMsfZlAahCwMD2GuA=w267-h400" width="267" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>"Thought I do not believe that a plant will spring up where no seed has been, I have great faith in a seed. Convince me that you have a seed there, and I am prepared to expect wonders."</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Henry David Thoreau</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When I had a large, outdoor garden, this time of year was like Mother Nature's Christmas. Every day new seed catalogs would appear in my mailbox and, after pouring over their pages, padded envelopes containing packets of seeds would appear not too long afterwards. I researched what would tolerate our upstate New York 5B growing zone, then order what I reasonably expected to grow as well as a few experimental or ornamental items. I am proud to say that I had a very successful few years growing vegetables, herbs, and some flowers, but others, like roses, continued to elude me. Then, of course, there was the endless battle with the critters who tunneled underground and appeared just in time to raid my sunflowers. I learned to accept that all God's creatures deserved to live and eat as much as I did, and that sharing my garden with them was a gift, not a problem to be eradicated. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When I moved into more urban apartment living and took up container gardening, the types of catalogs that appeared in my mailbox changed, but not the enthusiasm. During the years I lived in an apartment with a large, screened-in porch, I was able to grow lettuce, tomatoes, herbs, and an assortment of flowers. When I downsized even more to where I am now, I had to give up the lettuce and tomatoes for the present, but my herbs and certain flowers are doing well. My bamboo plant has turned into a 5 foot tree, I have a big bag of basil and one of mint in my freezer for cooking, and my begonias continue to bloom under a grow light. Hmm, maybe this year I'll give those hanging cherry tomatoes and windowsill pots of lettuce a try!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The same way that I have faith in a seed, I have faith in the seeds of our intentions as we start off 2023. I believe if we plant a seed to grow a new habit, pursue a new interest, or follow our dreams, and if we give it plenty of attention, focus, and love, I will "<i>expect wonders." </i>Just like trying out a new seed, however, it takes patience and practice before we produce positive results. "Rome wasn't built in a day," as the saying goes. Neither does a planter full of tomatoes, a 5 foot bamboo plant, or a dream. Day by day, step by step, we water, we weed, we feed, and we pray. It it's meant to grow where it's planted, it will.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So, what seeds are you planting this year?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And so it is. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-7641099462871700482023-01-16T12:31:00.000-08:002023-01-16T12:31:06.982-08:00Winter From My Window<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPJnKuld9son2jxJzESPK0hiAKApYJ2t6w6GAyZQddmdbjStu0B8SJe_gYv7DUgfRfrEFDq6aGYQtMtdfX_WiqlXTigo0MjPSO2amtUyNavOWoe5rGAJ6PSxpu1u57gFyFYlrq6XeRtP0Rfzkbqxe9ozwwnLEpbW44mP8DCyYvnH9a6zstALpguU9fSQ/s4160/20230116_134559.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="4160" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPJnKuld9son2jxJzESPK0hiAKApYJ2t6w6GAyZQddmdbjStu0B8SJe_gYv7DUgfRfrEFDq6aGYQtMtdfX_WiqlXTigo0MjPSO2amtUyNavOWoe5rGAJ6PSxpu1u57gFyFYlrq6XeRtP0Rfzkbqxe9ozwwnLEpbW44mP8DCyYvnH9a6zstALpguU9fSQ/w400-h300/20230116_134559.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"<i>I pray this winter be gentle and kind - a season of rest from the wheel of the mind."</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>John Geddes</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The picture and the quote above says it all. With the exception of a particularly nasty storm in the days right before Christmas, winter in my neck of the woods has been pretty quiet. Only a little over 3 hours from here, in Buffalo, New York, they've had enough snow on numerous occasions to fill a football stadium. Did I mention how grateful I am right now?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My window on the world in winter is quite a departure from the other seasons of the year. Yet, I am blessed to be living here, where the distant hills are still green with evergreens and pine trees, and the ones near my building are just as green. I am never bereft of color even in the depth of winter.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My main concerns this year have been for the critters, especially my little squirrel neighbors next door. When the big, bad storm of Christmas 2022 hit, the worst of it was the wind and the extreme cold. Gusts of over 50 mph were recorded and the wind chill went down to -21 degrees. I had packed a bag and moved in with my daughter's family so we could all be together in case the power went out and she couldn't get to me or I to her. All the time I was safe and sound, my thoughts kept going to my little neighbors and all the other birds, chipmunks, and animals who had to tough it out as best they could. When I returned on the afternoon of Christmas Day, it was a whole 3 days later before I caught sight of Mama Squirrel and her offspring. I didn't see Dad but the chances were good that if Mom and son made it in their little home under the roof across the way, Dad probably did, too. I was so happy you'd have thought that they were actual relatives which, in a manner of speaking, and according to what I learned from my Native American teachers, they are. The native phrase "<i>all my relations," </i>refers to just that ... all living things are my relatives. I celebrated by throwing them a belated Christmas feast complete with peanuts, seeds, chopped apples and fresh greens. I began leaving nuts and seeds out as soon as it turned colder in December so they could store up for the winter and had been counting on that to see them through the storm. That they survived was reason enough to celebrate and help them re-stock their larder.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The days of January have swung back and forth from cold to warm, from winter to fall, and even a day or two of early spring thrown in. All around us the weather has been terrible but in our little valley we have been lucky. It's not that I don't love to see the snowflakes falling down, making everything look pretty, which I have written about before, but that seemed more appropriate for Christmas. Now, in depth of winter, my concerns for "all my relations" as well as the well-being of my human family is my focus. In my own case, I'm hoping that our annual February whopper of a storm holds off until after the 16th as I am scheduled for knee surgery and wish to be back home before it hits. Then I can sit and look out of my window on the world and let Mother Nature do her thing. It is, after all, winter. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Stay safe, stay warm, stay well, and don't forget about all "your" relations.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And so it is ... until next time. </div><p></p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-75454672840914557742022-12-16T06:12:00.001-08:002022-12-16T06:12:48.625-08:00Let It Snow! Let It Snow!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjgYXAkaw6pY8KAO1OubNOpXd6FI9lNuZcO_a8LYumOZRdgB4ymvGRzB98VOX0XJvgkHu6FpFsU_osTe2QDyNSsfqXrx3H4rw8o-Deeamn7SskU11bV4-c1T3c3PHhNKhOj8TzE99vypI0Yf2YnfC9I65BgNk2e6olVbBZuY6JEnDbSeNasFX5W3cf01Q" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="655" data-original-width="1164" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjgYXAkaw6pY8KAO1OubNOpXd6FI9lNuZcO_a8LYumOZRdgB4ymvGRzB98VOX0XJvgkHu6FpFsU_osTe2QDyNSsfqXrx3H4rw8o-Deeamn7SskU11bV4-c1T3c3PHhNKhOj8TzE99vypI0Yf2YnfC9I65BgNk2e6olVbBZuY6JEnDbSeNasFX5W3cf01Q=w640-h360" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Finally! After two years of mild Decembers and a white Christmas only existing in our memories and holiday songs, it looks like we're actually going to have a white Christmas this year! It's been snowing since yesterday and is not supposed to stop until late today. The temperatures for the next week will be staying in the 30's, so it looks like it will be staying around for a while, if only on the lawns and rooftops. That's okay with me. I've been dreaming of a white Christmas.</p><p>What is it about a white Christmas that speaks to our souls? Is it just the stories we grew up with about Santa Claus living up at the North Pole with all that snow? Is it the holiday music? Or maybe it's just childhood memories when a white Christmas was the norm, rather than the exception (and they say there's no climate change)? I can only speak for myself. Seeing snow on the ground reflecting the Christmas lights and decorations brings a warm glow inside my heart. Cars are driving by with Christmas trees strapped to the roof, snow clinging to the branches. People don't seem to mind the snow. They are singing along with the holiday music on the car radio and laughing. A month from now when it snows, they won't be singing, won't be happy, won't be enjoying the cold and the wet. Maybe we should just appreciate what the magic of holiday snow can do while we have it ... and maybe pray for a little more?</p><p>And so it is. </p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-89381426315892227612022-11-28T06:05:00.000-08:002022-11-28T06:05:24.536-08:00The Animals' Thanksgiving Feast<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgt8rxJRXWTAj5yxdRZdiv5FqHP56LRamthwHX8J9HCV9zcp_PXOTjG8_J0gZo6K0GVTsaY3Zgt6HEVL2LqqGZmbmVUBruYWJRnUeNjjPOTNFfgFT8zNKU6MaUsM3hSVLI5y9h4r8cu3oz_qElQBU-jMvi4o1fpJnenCmmkyNDt8zalSnLo7okGYtbArQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgt8rxJRXWTAj5yxdRZdiv5FqHP56LRamthwHX8J9HCV9zcp_PXOTjG8_J0gZo6K0GVTsaY3Zgt6HEVL2LqqGZmbmVUBruYWJRnUeNjjPOTNFfgFT8zNKU6MaUsM3hSVLI5y9h4r8cu3oz_qElQBU-jMvi4o1fpJnenCmmkyNDt8zalSnLo7okGYtbArQ=w640-h640" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving. I know I did. Not only was there a table filled with good food, even for this plant-based girl, but we got to celebrate my youngest granddaughter's Sweet 16 birthday that day as well. It was a blessed and abundant day all for everyone<p></p><p>When I say "for everyone," I mean for my animal neighbors as well. In addition to the family of squirrels that live in the house across the way, the trees and grounds that surround the complex where I live are filled with other squirrels, birds of all kinds, and even tiny chipmunks who have mastered the art of avoiding the many cars and trucks that pull in and out of our parking lot. They are some of the fastest and bravest little creatures I've ever seen! Anyway, I decided that they were as deserving of a Thanksgiving feast as anyone else, and this year I would not let them have to participate in their daily game of dumpster diving to get it. So I saved up all of my scraps from cooking, like apple peels and cores, spinach, kale, and carrot tops, and added one bag of peanuts and another of pumpkin seeds. I spread the fest on the divider wall that runs behind the dumpsters where I was sure they would find it. To say that the poor things must have been quite hungry was an understatement. When I returned home from my daughter's house where we celebrated our own feast, there wasn't anything left except the shells from the seeds they tore open. They even ate the kale! I was so happy knowing that not only did they have a fine meal, but, knowing the behavior of my little neighbors, there was a hefty stash of food hidden nearby for the cold days of winter ahead. I have continued putting out scraps as well as nuts and seeds every few days and intend to keep it going through the winter.</p><p>Giving the animals a Thanksgiving feast of their own was my way to show my gratitude for the endless hours of entertainment they have given me, and the lessons I've learned about home, family, and survival from them as well. I am always reminded that their ancestors were here first ... we are the invaders. The trees that provided them with nuts and seeds were cut down to build houses and pave parking lots. No one, not even animals, should have to "dumpster dive" to survive. We took away their livelihoods, so it's time we gave back to them for all they sacrificed for us. </p><p>So the next time you have fruit and veggie scraps for cooking, or have some nuts and seeds laying around, why not share them with your animal neighbors as a way to say thank you? It will not only make their day, it will make yours as well.</p><p>And so it is. </p><p><br /></p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411042613281033852.post-88709271545712196782022-11-14T07:29:00.001-08:002022-11-14T07:29:44.598-08:00What The Squirrels Know<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4nxLr4W9cVLKT77-9k5HqAKC4OUud9FLRCYNtEgj-eTP0f8EIlDq0g96zJ-tIev1P1zNklilXuNrnjKupKOni5hXDDuMm4cacK6WWttTBJEJqgZWFxysT3P0rkDJi7SO86RN_R21xqweWUZZmtC1rHII9NQaaHBMOqwabYpSRmYUrR5wRRzwXHw69sg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4nxLr4W9cVLKT77-9k5HqAKC4OUud9FLRCYNtEgj-eTP0f8EIlDq0g96zJ-tIev1P1zNklilXuNrnjKupKOni5hXDDuMm4cacK6WWttTBJEJqgZWFxysT3P0rkDJi7SO86RN_R21xqweWUZZmtC1rHII9NQaaHBMOqwabYpSRmYUrR5wRRzwXHw69sg=w640-h360" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I know I talk a lot about the squirrels that live next door, but they have provided me with some of the most interesting and enlightening experiences I've had while sitting at my desk and looking out of the windows. I've learned about parenting, defending one's home and stash, and how to have some good old-fashioned fun. Recently, however, I've also learned that squirrels can also be good predictors of the winter to come.</p><p>For example, the effort to collect and store food becomes more intense. The flurry of activity speeds up more some years than others. The building where I live is surrounded by chestnut and black walnut trees, and as soon as they started to ripen and fall to the ground, the squirrels were all over them. That was back in September and early October. Now the poor things are rooting through the two giant dumpsters out behind the two buildings every day for whatever they can find. I've taken to putting out peanuts, seeds, and vegetable cuttings just to supplement their diet of dumpster food. I swear it seems as if they are on a mission to stock up as much food as they can ... like they know something about how severe this winter will be?</p><p>I did a little online research (God bless Google) and found out that a tough winter is ahead if the squirrels' tails are very bushy. I've been watching the family next door and it does seem to me as if their tails are, indeed, much bushier than normal. This morning they looked positively double in size! Speaking of size, the whole family seem to be packing on the weight, looking a bit on the pudgy side of late. According to what I read, that is also an indicator of a harsh winter ahead. The third item I read is that if squirrels build their nests higher in the trees, that, too, is an indicator of a harsh winter to come. Since my squirrel family lives inside the rooftop of the building next door, I can't use that as an indicator. Besides, who wants to go through the winter in a cold, drafty tree when you can spend it protected with a roof over your head? That sounds like a pretty smart move to me!</p><p>As far as I'm concerned, I've learned so much about life and nature from watching animals over the years that I'm more likely to follow their example than trust the human weather predictions, so I'm starting to stock the pantry with staples like beans, rice, soups, and such ... maybe I'll add a few nuts to the mix, just to keep up with the neighbors!</p><p>And so it is. </p>Flower Bear's Gardenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485845002998272601noreply@blogger.com2