A Time And A Season

Gardening in the Northeast takes a great deal of patience. We have a saying here in Upstate New York that if you don't like the weather, just wait a minute and it will change. So far in the month of May we have had several late frosts, followed by several mini-heat waves, followed by five days of rain, followed by ... well, you get the picture. After many years of going through this Jekyll and Hyde scenario, I have come up with a firm rule of thumb to follow: don't plant anything before Memorial Day. Even after Memorial Day one must still be careful to plant the things that can take the morning chills up here first, followed by the less cold tolerant plants that require warmer climates around the clock. Everything in it's right time.

My granddaughter is getting married tomorrow (the one in the cap and gown ... the other one has a few years to go yet).. She is my first grandchild. She was the first one to call me Grammy. If I close my eyes I can see her at two years old following me around the garden with her little child-size gardening tools and pail helping me dig up weeds and plant flowers. Her aunt gave her a battery operated riding dump truck and she would load up all my clippings and garden cast-offs and drive them around to the back of the garage to the compost pile. By age three she was an accomplished gardener. We share a love of nature and a reverence for the spirits of earth and sky, water and animals. Only yesterday we played and laughed together like two naughty children when their parents are away. Tomorrow I will watch her move on and begin a new life. To everything there is a season.

The things we plant in the minds and hearts of those that come after us take time to take root and grow. Just as in our gardens, it is important to pick the right seeds and plant them at the right time in the right conditions. Even if we don't see evidence of one particular plant coming into maturity when we think it should, if we have faith in the soil and the the seed, it will grow in it's own way and in it's own time. Whether we think it is too soon or too late is up to the plant, not us. It may even surprise the older, seasoned gardeners in us with how well it turns out. To everything there is a time and a season.

I love you, Courtney.

And so it is.

The Champion of Dreams

Last week I was listening to a webinar on coming into your feminine power. One of the facilitators posed a question to the listeners that really caught my attention and I want to share it with you.

Think back to a time when you were just a child or adolescent, to a time when some person or event lit a spark in you and at that moment your dream of what you wanted to do with your life was ignited. Let yourself remember what you felt like at that moment, at that age when everything and anything seemed possible and the world was filled with the excitement of discovery.

Got it? Good. Now, ask yourself what you would tell that young child now about the reality of making that dream come true from your current age and perspective. Would you applaud him or her because you are living proof of that dream fulfilled, or would you crush their spirit with the cold, harsh reality of "the real world?"

Life Coach Cheryl Richardson tells the story of how she took a picture of herself as a little girl, with her arms flung out  and her mouth opened wide in joy, and placed it on her desk where she could see it every day. Whenever she beat herself up with negative self-talk or discouragement, she would remind herself: "I would never speak to that little girl like that." That's such a powerful image. So why would we do that to ourselves now as adults? Are we no longer as worthy as that little child?

That little child is still alive and well inside us. That moment of pure joy and excitement about our dreams for the future are still there and accessible to us. All we have to do is close our eyes, remember that moment, and step into that feeling. I know, I know, you're telling yourself that it's not that easy, that I don't know all that you've gone through and what your life has been like. No, I don't know what your life has been like, but I know what your life could be like now. Try it. Close your eyes and go there, just for a few minutes.

My moment came when I was 12 years old and a wise and wonderful teacher gave me a copy of the Poems of Edna St. Vincent Millay and told me to read a poem called, "Renascence," written when the poet herself was just a teenager. She saw something in me that told her my dream was already planted ... it just needed some nurturing. From the moment I turned over the last page of this epic poem, I was hooked: I wanted to be a writer. Fast forward 50 plus years. At the age of 63 I am finally a writer. After many stops and starts, a few successes and plenty of rejections, I have finally given myself the permission to be a writer, in my heart as well as on the page (or the screen as it were here in the 21st century). How sad that I had to keep that little girl waiting for so long to fulfill her dream when what I am doing now is filling my life with such joy, just like the picture of Cheryl's young self.

So the question I would like to pose to you is this: what do you have to tell that child now? Are you going to tell him/her how proud you are of them for daring to dream and support them in their quest? Or are you going to tell them why it will never come true? You can be a Dream Champion for that little child by picking up that challenge and jumping on your trusty steed called courage. Support that child with love, encouragement and faith in yourself, and when you stray off the path, just put yourself back in that moment. It will re-fuel you and remind you that you are never too old to dream.

And so it is.

The Right Tools For The Job

My father was an auto mechanic. When I was little I would sometimes go to see him at his service station and garage in Brooklyn, New York when I was not in school. He had dozens and dozens of tools all over the garage. I asked him why he needed so many. He told me each one did a different thing and you needed the right tools for the job. 

Years later when I took up gardening I was just as engrossed in my gardening tools as my father had been with his tools. Every April as I waited for mud-season to pass so I could attack the winter's wrath with glee, I took out my gardening tools and gave them a good cleaning. I admit to not always being able to afford the "right" tool for the job (case in point: when I could not afford a rototiller so I turned the garden beds with a pitch fork and shovel ... and had trouble walking upright for several days), I always got the best I could afford because while each and every one had a specific job, together they built me a beautiful garden and taught me a great deal about my strengths and talents at the same time.

As we get older, we need to stand back and take a look at how we want this next phase in our life to grow. Like the garden, we need the right tools to create the life we want. I've come up with a few I'd like to share with you:

Curiosity - this is not just a mindset for children and cats. We should never stop being curious. Learning new things about the world and ourselves should be a never-ending process. I've always wanted to be a gardener even when I was a child but the opportunity never presented itself until I was in my 40's and 50's. Then I got curious about how to go about it. Which brings us to the next tool which is ...

Learning - never stop learning. I don't care if you want to learn how to knit, bake, build a brick retaining wall, or jump out of an airplane ... never, never, stop learning. Ask questions. Look thinks up. Learn to Google with the best of the kids. Drag yourself into the 21st century of technology if you're not already there (I'm still struggling, but that's why I have grandchildren for a Geek Squad).

Awe - always maintain your sense of awe. Stand outside at night and look up at the stars. Watch a bird feeding her chicks. Look out at the ocean and feel its power. Remember that you are a part of all that as well, as powerful as the ocean and as bright as the stars, but also as gentle as that Mama bird.

Energy - move, move, move and keep on moving. Every day even if it's only for 20 minutes. Walk, run, swim, do yoga, dance, lift weights, do standing push-ups against the kitchen wall while you're waiting for the pasta to be done. A body in motion stays in motion and fuels you to do all the things you've always wanted to do.

Gratitude - I know we've touched on this one before but I thought it was a good idea to re-visit it. In this instance I am talking about being grateful for this time in our lives that we have been given, almost like a second chance. The kids are grown, the job is winding down and we have the opportunity to do anything, be anything, try anything. How cool is that? 

From the Boomer that helped re-define what it meant to be young, and who is now re-defining what aging means, I hand you my tools so you can create your own life garden. May it blossom and flourish into everything you want it to be.

And so it is. 

Spring Cleaning

Now that spring is officially underway (yes, I know, the calendar said it was spring a few weeks ago, but try telling that to the people who are still shoveling snow out of  their driveways), it is the perfect time to get out those brooms, grab a bottle of green cleaner and the bag of rags you've been saving for just such an occasion, and throw open the windows ... it's time for spring cleaning. Out with the old and in with the new. Going through closets, attics, basements and garages and asking ourselves that all important question: "what was I thinking when I bought this?"

My bedroom closet is a case in point. Why am I keeping a pair of pants that I bought on sale without trying them on only to find out when I got home that they didn't fit because the size on the tag was wrong and I could not return them? Why am I still holding on to my granddaughter's prom dress when she is currently a mother-to-be with my first great-grandchild? When will I realize that no one needs that many purses, and that the occasion when I might need a Persian Lamb evening jacket hasn't come in 30 years? In the life that I now lead, exactly how many work-out outfits do I feel I have to have?

The den doesn't fare any better. In a world of technology where my Nook has more books on it than I will every have the time to read before I die, why do I need 3 bookcases full of books, most of which I've already read but somehow can't part with? I may be wrong but I'm pretty sure the library has the entire collection of Beatrix Potter, and honestly, will I ever go back and re-read 3 years work of back issues of  Yoga Journal? Finally, do I really, really need the rent receipts from the apartment I haven't lived in since 1999?

Our minds are like those overcrowded bookcases. We have stuff stored in there that no longer serves us if it ever did. A lot of our beliefs are not even our own. They are the beliefs we inherited from our parents, our teachers, our culture and our peers. We are so overloaded with outdated ideas, other people's expectations and misguided advice that there is no room for the new, the fresh and the exciting to come into our lives. We need to sweep out those crowded rooms in our mind and only put back those things that truly serve the way we live now, in the new and exciting world that we live in, after we've dusted them off and given them a new lease on life. Once we do, we will be amazed at how much room there is for new experiences and new ideas. Our lives will feel so much brighter and lighter without all of that old baggage that we've lugged around from house to house, from decade to decade. It's time to fill our lives with new colors, new sounds, new sights and new passions.

Next week we're going to tackle the garage and the garden shed. We can't plant our field of dreams with old, rusted-out tools! And so it is.

The Colors Of Life

Mother Nature's greatest gift to us are the flowers of spring. After the seemingly endless dark, gray days of winter, springs flowers burst forth in brilliant, colorful splendor. One day it is only the pointy, green tops of the leaves poking through the soil. The next, the tender cups of daffodils raise their bright, yellow heads to the sun. Along about the same time come the hyacinth in their purples and whites, and then the tulips in a variety of colors (I happen to favor the red ones myself). Finally the forsythia go from green buds to vibrant yellows. It seems as if everywhere I turn someone has a bush or a row of bushes waving their hello as I pass by.

I have always thought that the colors of spring are the most beautiful of all. Sadly, they last for such a short time before dying back until next spring to make way for Nature's summer pallet. After only two or so months they are gone. Thinking about this gave me pause to see a connection between the short lived colors of springs and our own lives.

In the context of time as we know it, our lives are but an instant. Before we know it we wake up one morning to find we are thinking about things like retirement and grandchildren when only yesterday we were playing with our own little ones in the sun. The brilliant colors of our springtime have slipped away, or so it seems. But there is so much yet before us to experience, all the wonderful colors of summer roses and ripe, red tomatoes, and the burning beauty of autumn leaves. We are only leaving one season behind us so we can move on to the next season of our lives. Each one has their own beauty, their own discoveries and their own treasures to discover.

Today I potted some beautiful dianthus that were given to me by a friend. They are sitting on my porch soaking up the sun. By summer's end I suspect they will have filled in enough that I will have to split them up into two pots. For now they are resting on a table two stories above the daffodils and hyacinths that are sitting in neat little rows like soldiers beneath my windows. When they have spent their last bit of yellows and whites, they will slip back into sleep and the deep, dark pinks of the dianthus will hold my attention over the summer, along with pots of dark green herbs and purple tipped lavender. So much to look forward to. So many wonders yet to unfold, in life as well as in the garden.

And so it is.

To The Seventh Generation

"I wish for a world that deserves my children ..." Someone sent me a clip of an interview with the late Dr. David Simon, co-founder with Deepak Chopra of the Chopra Center for Wellness in California, filmed shortly before his death not too long ago. When I heard him speak these words, I was reminded of something I was told a long time ago by a very wise medicine woman. She told me Native American children are taught that, before you speak a word or perform an action, remember that the consequences of those words or that action will be felt by the next seven generations. In other words, by our children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and so on.

That is a very powerful thought. Would you want the words your are speaking, the thoughts you are thinking, or the actions you are taking, to be felt by those that will come after you? Is that how you would want your children and their children to remember you?

I am a grandmother. I think that fact made me more sensitive to what Dr. Simon said in that interview: "I wish for a world that deserves my children ..." Well, Dr. Simon, I wish for a world that deserves my grandchildren and after recent events, frankly, I'm not so sure it does. Most of the time I look around me and see more and more people becoming involved in issues  that will certainly affect our children and grandchildren, things such as renewable energy, organic foods, and sustainability. Then an event like the bombings at the Boston Marathon happens and you wonder what it's all for if my grandchildren's biggest fear will be whether they can safely go outside to play without someone wanting to kill them.

We are not a perfect society, but we are certainly better than this. We may have our differences and our problems, but there is no difference or problem so big that a compromise cannot be found, or an answer to a problem left unsolved. While we're busy fighting over who gets to have the guns, the bombers are having a field day. Might the problem not be with the means of destruction, but the reason for it? If we all want the same things - peace, prosperity, a safe home, a decent life, a purpose for our lives - is blowing each other up really going to get us those things, or is learning to live in harmony with everyone rowing the boat in the same direction a slightly better idea?

Not too long ago I heard a woman writer talking about her experience speaking to a Native American man at a book conference. He told her it was time for the women to step forward and take over because the men had been in charge for a long time and weren't doing too well! So I'm thinking maybe it's time that the mothers and grandmothers made the guys in charge step aside and let us get in there. We certainly couldn't do any worse and I suspect we could do a whole lot better.

Besides, I've got an even bigger reason to want to see our world return to peace ... I recently found out that I will be a great-grandmother for the first time in September (a very young and vivacious great-grandmother, mind you - emphasis on the "great")! My investment in this old world just got a whole lot bigger - we're on generation #5! I don't want to have to explain to my great-grandchild why Grammy didn't save the world for him, do you?

And so it is.

Embracing Change

If there is one word to describe the legacy of the Boomer Generation, it is Change. We have seen music go from vinyl records to getting our music from "the cloud." Computers have shrunk from the once mammoth machines that filled entire rooms to the size of a small notebook that slips easily into your purse. We have put a man on the moon, an African American in the White House, and women in jobs they only once dreamed of. We have also, sadly, seen our soil attacked in the most brutal way imaginable for the first time since The War of 1812 and once happy trips home to see Grandma now involve taking off our shoes to look for explosives and full body scans. Is it any wonder that as we get older we look for things to cling to, for the unchangeable, to provide some sense of being grounded, to "Be Here Now" as Ram Dass taught us.

For me, that idea, that thing to cling to, was gardening. There was a sense that regardless of what was going on in the world, be it technology or politics, I knew that night followed day, sunrise followed sunset, and the seasons came and went in a normal, natural progression that I could count on. I put the seeds in the ground, I watered and fed, I raked and weeded (and even talked to them), and I got the results I expected except for the occasional drought or hail storm. As long as I was planted in my garden along with the flowers, veggies and neighborhood wild life, all was well in my world.

The one thing I didn't have any control over was the economy. I still had to work to support myself and jobs in my area of upstate New York were disappearing as fast as my sunflowers after a particularly hardy invasion of woodchucks. Alas, after 8 blissful years, I had to give up my lovely country town and my little piece of heaven outside to move closer to where the jobs were ... and ended up in a small apartment with a screened in porch.

I moved in August, at almost the end of the growing season. I dug up a few plants that I felt would travel well and put them in pots in the back of the car to take them almost 30 miles south of where I had been living. All winter I sat and stared at that porch, mourning over my garden and wondering how I would ever survive with all the traffic and concrete. By spring I had created in my mind an outrageously ambitious plan for the porch. I built a small metal arch with flower boxes at each end up which I imagined morning glories and moon flowers climbing. I surrounded the arch with a small plastic fence enclosing huge patio pots of flowers. From the hanging planters on the walls I grew herbs and begonias. There wasn't much room to sit and enjoy the view but I didn't care. I had my garden.

A few tips about porch gardening: if you live on the top floor of a building that faces west, you can expect to the take the brunt of any summer storms. By brunt I mean like tornado force winds that toppled the arch and tore out the morning glories. The flowers in the floor planters were so heavy that I was unable to move them indoors and some of them never came back from the drowning they took in that first storm of the season ... and one of the cats ate all the chives.

 So what was the lesson I learned from this experience? Maybe the word "adapt" is a word we can exchange for the word "change." Maybe instead of digging in and saying, "no, no more changes," we can use the wisdom we've gained from all of the other changes in our lives and say instead, "how can I make this work?" So I stopped watching HGTV shows on yard gardening and landscaping and started researching container gardening. I talked to people in my new neighborhood about what worked here and what didn't. Now I have an soft, inviting garden room in the summer with vertical boxes on the wall and plant hangers I can easily lift and move when a storm rolls in. I added charming elements like wind chimes and small garden sculptures (like Mr Toad from Wind In The Willows and a stone lighthouse), and hung a colorful flag on the wall. I swear that if it was not for the screen, the neighborhood birds would be in there with me, so many hang out on the railing outside.

Change doesn't have to always be painful. Sometimes it can be an opportunity to see how much we've grown and what new wonders there are to discover. Boomers never really get old - we just keep reinventing ourselves. Rock on!

And so it is.