Something To Chew On

For every gardener out there who has planted their blood, sweat and tears along with their seeds, August is payback month. For all those long hours of weeding, watering, feeding, praying while watching the formation of dark clouds over the horizon and trying to encourage their local wildlife neighbors to dine in someone else's yard, the time for reward has arrived.. Tomatoes turn a bright, luscious red, eggplants hang plump and purple, summer squash and cucumbers are shiny green behind bold orange and yellow flowers...ah! Everything is ripe and beautiful and we tell ourselves once again that it was all worth it. We still have much more harvest time to go with the coming of Autumn - pumpkins, apples, winter squash and other cool weather crops. Oh, yes, life is good and bountiful.

August is also the time when I begin to shed my usual persona and turn into a completely different person. From now until Christmas I change into a form unrecognizable to my family. Quite simply, I cook.

Now, just to clear up any misunderstanding, it's not as if I never cook or that my poor children and grandchildren have ever or will ever starve in my presence. I was raised in a typical Italian family which meant that we women all cooked from the time we could reach the stove. Food was much more than just nourishment. Food was also how we showed our love to our family, friends and the world in general. As a card-carrying member of this family I cooked, and cooked, and cooked: dinners, birthdays, holidays, and every day in-between. I always cooked more than we needed because you just never knew who might stop by or how many kids would follow my own children home from school and need to be fed (never mind that they had mothers that were perfectly capable of feeding them ... they were all too skinny, anyway). But after my kids were grown and had flown the next, and my husband and I went our separate ways, I decided to give myself a break. For me, names like Betty Crocker and Good Housekeeping were traded in for names like Swanson and Healthy Choice. Cooking was that which was restricted to what I could pop in a microwave, or boil on top of the stove with the exception of frozen pizza which didn't fit in the microwave (I like a brown, crispy bottom). All that changed when I moved out on my own and stared out the window of my new home for the first time at the backyard ... and was inspired to grow something.

With the coming of the first of the summer crops came the sounds of dicing and chopping, freezer containers to be washed out and reused, spaghetti sauce to make and freeze, zucchini bread to bake and salads, oh, the wonderful, beautiful salads. Beans are picked, corn is shucked, and everything is used. As soon as the mornings start to take on that cool, crisp scent, the one I call "the smell of back-to-school in the air," out come the soup pots and the apartment is filled with the aroma of veggie soup to be cooked and frozen for a cold, winter day when I long for the days of summer and the taste of fresh produce. Even the herbs are dealt with, either dried or frozen, to add zest to my winter feast. No more Swanson for me.

Last year I made the commitment to give up beef and pork. I eat very little chicken and turkey, which I may also phase out, but still eat fish, especially salmon, and some dairy such as eggs, yogurt and, alas, ice cream, my all-time weakness. I have been having a blast researching recipes for using other sources of protein like soy, beans and legumes in imaginative ways. I am currently looking for a cookbook with a title something like "Cooking With Tofu For Dummies," since I love the stuff but have had some less than successful incidents such as a stir fry than came out looking more like pudding. If anyone knows of such a book, please let me know.

Since changing my diet I find that I feel so much better. I sleep better. My digestion is better. I no longer feel lethargic after a meal. I'm discovering new uses for old, standby herbs and new ones I never used before. I've fallen in love with Rosemary. Turmeric is just downright exciting. All this from someone who thought Healthy Choice frozen meals was the greatest invention after sliced bread ... and, oh, maybe Pop Tarts, but that's another blog.

I've also decided that I deserve to treat myself better in other ways. I deserve to sit down at the table in the evening to eat a good, healthy, home-cooked meal off of real plates and not either the black plastic dishes the frozen meals come in, or the kids Dora The Explorer plates. I deserve to have a nice glass of wine out of a real wine glass (the ones I was saving for company ... hey, I'm company, too), and to drink only organic, locally made wines (a plus to living in Upstate New York on the edge of wine country). I deserve to be the worthy recipient of the bountiful harvest even though I only cooked it and didn't grow it myself this year ... except the lettuce and herbs in pots on the porch which the cats liked to nibble on as well; everything else came from the farmer's market or my sister's garden. I deserve to end my meal with fresh fruit grown without pesticides. Most of all, I deserve to treat myself like the Queen of my home because, like the old L'Oreal commercial used to say, " ...I'm worth it."

Now that's something to chew on. Excuse me, but there's a dish of grape tomatoes and some hummus in the frig calling my name.

And so it is.

Dear Munchkin ...

Yesterday we had a baby shower for my oldest, #1 granddaughter, Courtney, who will be presenting me with my first great grandchild in September (although after yesterday there is now a betting pool going as to whether she will make it to September ... we don't do "little" babies in this family). As part of the celebration, each guest was given a card and asked to write down some advise about being a parent to help the new Mom. I took one look at the card and decided that it was just too small for what I wanted to say. So I thought I would jot down a few thoughts here for her, and for any other new parents-to-be out there. 

My nickname for Courtney is "Munchkin" after the little people in the Wizard of Oz. That was because I always thought she was a very old spirit in such a little girl. We shared a love of gardening and nature, and it is this vein that I want to pass on what wisdom I have received over the years:

Dear Munchkin,

What I know about babies is alot like what I know about gardening. You remember that, don't you, because you were there with me every step of the way. It all starts with giving the new little plant the best possible environment to grow in. That means not only good nutrients and water, but plenty of sunshine, protection, warmth and love. Babies need the same things: healthy food, a safe and happy home, lots of sunshine(not just actual sunshine - although they can use the Vitamin D - but a home without the sounds of arguing or anger),  and love. Tell them every day how much you love them; even if they don't understand the words, they understand the look on your face and the tone of your voice. They feel it in the way you hold them in your arms and cuddle them.

I remembered when I first started gardening, I read that talking to your plants was healthy for them and encouraged them to grow, so I would tell them all the time how beautiful they were, how they were going to grow up to be the most beautiful flower in the whole garden, and that I was very proud of them. Children need the same encouragement. Remind them every day that they are loved, wanted, beautiful, talented and simply the most wonderful thing that ever came into your life. Encourage their curiosity, their explorations, and their adventures into this sometimes scary new world, always reminding them that you are right there to protect and guide them when they lose their way.

.

I think the biggest thing I've learned about raising children, and raising a garden, is that this is a huge commitment. It's not something to be taken lightly, or to do better than someone else as if that were the reason for doing it in the first place. It takes time, patience, lots of hard work, days when you are so tired you don't know how you can take one more step, and nights when you question your sanity at ever having thought you could do this, let along do it right. This is where the analogy between a garden and children  parts company: if a plant does not thrive where it is planted, you can pull it out and start over. Babies do not come with a "do over" button.

So that's about it, Munchkin. That's what I know about babies, and being a parent, and a grandparent for that matter, except for this little piece of advice: I hope when little your little one gets older, you will tell him what I told you all those years ago, that there is nothing he can say or do that would ever make you stop loving him, and that he will always have first place in your heart (just like you have in mine).

Love,

Grammy

And so it is. 

A Little Older, A Little Wiser

I'm a little late with the blog this week. I usually like to have it posted on a Friday - no deadline but my own. However, this week I gave myself a few days off in celebration of my 64th birthday. Unfortunately, I have been told via emails and Facebook that I've had enough time off and it's time to get back to work!

I don't know what it was about this particular birthday that had me so fixated on it. It's not like it's a very momentous birthday like turning 30, 50, 60 or even 65 (I cried for a week when I turned 30 but by 50 I was throwing parties for myself). At first  I thought maybe it was because it wasn't a very significant birthday ... unless you had a different definition of what "significant" means. So I looked back over this past year to see what, if anything, of significance had occurred. As it turned out it was a very special year:

• I found out how very little I needed to be happy. In fact, I discovered that all I really needed was me
• I found out that I could step outside of my comfort zone and nothing bad would happen to me. In fact, something wonderful happened - this blog was born and it has been a blast so far.
• I learned how to sit in total silence for 30 minutes and meet myself again for the first time.
• I learned that when you stop looking for miracles, you find them everywhere.
• I regained my sense of wonder at the world and found that believing in the magic is not just for kids (can I hear some clapping for Tinkerbell here?)
• Most of all, I learned that letting the laundry pile up and the apartment go undusted in exchange for a really good book, an iced latte, a cat on my lap and birds singing outside my window once in a while was not the end of civilization as we know it ... and no, the Housework Police did not show up. If they did, I would have pushed the clothes aside, wiped off the table and offered them a latte.

Every year, every day, every moment of our life is significant. Every day that we wake up, take a breath, and greet the day is significant. How we choose to use that day determines our experience. Looking back now I realize what a significant year it has truly been and I thank each and every one of you who helped to make it so for me. May every day ahead be amazing.

And so it is.

Schoep and John ... and all of us.

For several months I have been following a story on Facebook about a man and his dog. It is the story of unconditional love made visible for all the world to see if only we would take the time to look. 

It was obvious from the first time I saw this picture and started following the story that old Schoep was not going to be with John for much longer. John would share Schoep's days with all of us, his good days and bad days, and we would all rally and become hopeful that maybe time spent in nature, in the water, with long naps in the sun and a peaceful days would give him a new lease on life. Sadly, that was not the case. Schoep passed a few days ago. 

I don't think I have every seen such outpouring of love as I have seen from people all over the world who are sharing in John's loss. With Schoep's passing we have all lost a dear friend and have come to realize the importance of living each day as if it were our last; of loving as if there was no tomorrow, and of giving, and giving, and then giving some more.

Schoep's last days were spent in the simplicity of nature, surrounded by John's love and the comfort of what was familiar to him. It made me think of a quote that is making the rounds on plaques and t-shirts right now: "Live simply. Give more. Expect less." I think that quote has taken on a whole new meaning for me, and I don't think I will look at life in quite the same way now, although I would add another line: "Love like there is no tomorrow." How beautiful it would be to live in a world where that was our mantra.

And so it is.

No Pay, But Great Benefits

My daughter is about to become a first-time grandmother in a few months (yes, I know, that makes me a great-grandmother but that is a subject for a post of its very own). Since I am a five-time veteran of this noble profession, I thought I would jot down a few of the many perks that more than makes up for the fact that it is a non-paying but all-important job:

• You have someone to see Disney and Pixar movies with. This means that you don't have to sneak out before the lights come back on so people won't realize you came on your own.
• You can have fun drawing and painting with a preschooler without feeling badly when her stick figures look better than yours.
• Peanut Butter becomes cuisine ... the same with animal crackers.
• You have someone to help you build a fort in the living room with blankets and chairs.
• Playground equipment is more fun than the equipment at the gym.
• Watching ants at work by laying on the ground near an anthill takes the place of your meditation for a day.
• A walk in the woods is transformed into a quest to find fairy houses (leaving presents of above mentioned animal crackers and flowers is also encouraged),
• You regain you ability to converse with animals and teddy bears which was lost somewhere after the age of 8 or 10.
• Your refrigerator is now an art gallery with new exhibits every week.
• You are the recipient of the most beautiful four words ever spoken:  "I love you, Grandma."

Forget what I said about this being a non-paying job. That last one is payment in full.

And so it is.

Guaranteed Not to Make Your Head Explode

There comes a time in the life of every gardener when you have done everything you can do and, with the exception of regular weeding and watering, the rest is pretty much up to the plants and Mother Nature. No amount of you trying to control the weather or the activities of insects and organism so small you can't even see them is going to change the outcome. What will be, will be.

 The idea of giving up control over something is very hard for many of us. Sometimes it is an event, like a holiday tradition, the lives of our spouses, children or grandchildren, our boss (or the lack of one ... like losing our jobs), or even the way we celebrate holidays. "But we've always done it this way, " you might lament when someone suggests going out for a holiday meal instead of all the work and arranging of schedules to have a big family meal at home. For a gardener it might be watching and waiting for squash that just doesn't make it this year, or tomatoes with a bad case of blight even though you did everything, "just like I always do." 

If you were to examine the real reason why having to give it up and let it be is so upsetting, you would probably find that is has to do with a fear that, if you lose control in one area of your life, you'll lose control over your entire life. This is especially true when we get older and so many things in our life seem to be changing more and more often. It is scary when things and people we've counted on to always be there start fading away one by one until you feel as if you are living someone else's life. 

I was listening to Hay House Radio one day a while back and happened on a program hosted by Life Coach Michael Neil. I really love this guy's humor and his way of helping you to see that things are not always as complicated and hopeless as you think they are. One caller was really upset over having to make a major change in her life and Michael was offering her some alternative ways to look at the choices she could make. When they finally settled on the course of action she was going to take, he closed with this promise: "You know, I  offer a money-back guarantee. If you follow this course of action and you head explodes, you get your money back." Obviously he was not trying to make fun of this woman's plight, but he was trying to get her to see that if you make a choice and it doesn't work out, just make another choice. The world will not end, locusts will not take over the planet ... and you head will, indeed, not explode. 

The year I had squash that wouldn't grow and tomatoes infested with blight, I let go of the need to try and fix it myself and went to the experts to look at other options. Sure enough, the following year, by being willing to try something different,  I had so many tomatoes I couldn't give them away fast enough, and squash that could have won a blue ribbon. The year after that I had to make the decision whether or not to give up my beloved garden and follow the jobs. I made the decision to do what was in my best financial interest and moved. My head did not explode and as I sit here typing this, I am looking out on to the screen porch where my garden of herbs and flowers are dancing in the breeze and pesto is on tonight's menu. 

Don't be afraid of change. Finding another way to celebrate a holiday, or watching a child go off to follow their own dream instead of the one you had for them, is not the end of the world. You still have a whole life ahead of you to explore and experiment in. How sad it would be to have missed something wonderful because we let our fear stop us. Honestly, your head really and truly won't explode!

And so it is.

The "R" Word

On Tuesday night I attended a delightful party for my brother-in-law, Sam, who turned 66. It was also his last day of work. Once he turned in his keys he was officially retired. Friends and family came to wish him well on his double celebration.

There must have been close to 30 people there that evening. We spilled out of the house on to the deck and into the garden where umbrellas and a tent had been set up. I moved from group to group, getting caught up with old friends and making new acquaintances. Most of the people there, with the exception of Sam's children/step-children and the grandkids, were at or near retirement age. So there was no shortage of like-minded conversation going on.

I met one lovely, older woman who said that she hoped Sam would be as happy in his retirement as she had been. She had taken an early retirement from IBM 20 years ago and had never regretted one day or had one moment of boredom. She tried to get a swim in at the Y every day, did a great deal of sewing and other needlework for friends and family gifts, read a lot, worked in her garden, and often just enjoyed sitting in silence and becoming one with the world around her. She was active in her church and generally was in good health. I told her that being only semi-retired (working 3 days a week), I totally understood where she was coming from and longed for the day when I could finally call myself a full-time retiree, having the time to pursue my interests and learn new ones.

So many folks in our age group that I meet are afraid of retirement. For some it is a financial issue and unfortunately in our current economy it is true that many will have to work longer than they had planned in order to pay the bills. However I meet people all the time who believe that once they retire, they are done, that old age and death will come crashing down on them like a giant wave and take them away. I always want to ask these individuals if there isn't anything that they have ever wanted to do, or wanted to learn, or wanted to experience, but have put it off because of work and family commitments. Nine out of ten will admit that there is. Then I ask them, "then why don't you do it?"

The "R" word I am referring to in the title of this post is not "retirement," but, "Regret," with a capital R. I can't think of a worse ending to a life spent taking care of others than to regret all the things they never did or accomplished for themselves. They regret not taking that trip, learning that skill or craft, taking up that hobby, finding that long-lost love, taking that first step outside of their comfort zone and not only learning to fly, but to soar. Closing ourselves off from the world because we've reached a certain age, or because our employers have taken our keys and ushered us out of the door is a choice, not an inevitability. Sure, there are things about getting older that we won't have a choice about like the fact that our bodies are slowing down, our hair is getting grey, and the wrinkles are going to appear sooner or later. Everything else is a choice: where we go, what we do, what we eat, how we take care of our bodies, our minds and our spirits. I don't want to have one moment of regret when the time for my transition comes. I want to look back at my life with a big smile on my face that says "I did it all, and I did it my way."

My latest choice is to learn how to become proficient with a computer. I want to learn to create newsletters and websites, Skype with my grandsons and friends across the country, and all the other neat things a computer can do. I also have paths yet to be hiked, lessons on cooking with tofu yet to be learned, and a host of other things that keep my mind and spirit alive and engaged. I'm looking forward to getting those 3 days a week back so I can say with relish, and not regret, "yes, I'm retired, and I love it."

So what have you always wanted to do? Promise me, and yourself, no regrets!

And so it is.