March Madness

I'm sitting at my tiny kitchen table looking out over a beautiful day of sunshine, blue skies, feathery clouds, and a temperature of 57 degrees. A snow storm is predicted for the end of the week. Welcome to our very own version of March Madness.

While tall, athletic young men run up and down a basketball court, our temperatures here in the Northeast during the month of March run up and down the scale from well below freezing to 60 degrees. One day there is snow on the ground, and the next folks are jogging along with only an occasional puddle to splash through. It's enough to make you wonder why we live here. It's not as if we don't have enough stress in our lives (just watch the news for 5 minutes). I guess the reason I don't join the snow birds from my church that make a run for Florida or other points south right after Thanksgiving and don't come back until April is that it's that very uncertainty that drives us all crazy which challenges me and keeps me on my toes. It keeps me present to what is going on today - not tomorrow or yesterday, but today, and it makes me that much more grateful when we do get a day pushing 60 and I see the tip of a shoot coming out of the ground, or the first few tiny green buds poking out of a branch. It gives me something to look forward to, to hope for. It teaches me gratitude for what I already have and what Mother Nature promises year after year to grace me with again and again.

Today I ventured out to the store for the first time since my surgery and sitting in the car, with the window down and the sunshine kissing my face, I felt such gratitude that words escaped me. Every ray of sunshine is a blessing, just as every raindrop and snowflake. It's all there to remind us that life would get pretty boring if we had to live the same day over and over again, kind of like that movie "Groundhog's Day." I know some folks would be fine with sunshine and warm temps every day of the year (or almost), but I would miss the breathtaking beauty of autumn, and the first greens of spring, and the riot of colors in summer, and the first snowfall of winter. So today as I enjoyed my outing, mindful of the other shoppers who were stocking up just in case that snowstorm hits later in the week, I just closed my eyes and enjoyed what I had right there in that moment, knowing in my heart that it might go away for a while, but it was definitely making a comeback soon.

And so it is.

A Glimpse Of Days To Come

Mother Nature has been teasing us here in upstate New York for the last few days. Temperatures have hit 50+ with sunshine and blue skies. All the snow is melted ... and this morning I heard birdsong. It wasn't the kind of birdsong one is likely to hear when spring is in full swing, but even the sound of a few little ones calling to one another was enough to make my heart soar. The only thing that could make my smile even wider would be the sight of the geese sailing across the sky, calling to each other that they are almost home.

Some people might think that giving us this little glimpse of spring so early just to take it away from us again for several more weeks, or even longer, is cruel. Ground Hog or no Ground Hog, I've lived up here long enough to know that while we may have 50 degree weather at the end of February, the worst snow storms we've had have always arrived in the middle of March ("Beware the ides of March" as Mr. Shakespeare told us). So I hold no false illusions, but what I do hold is hope. That's why Mother Nature does this little dance every February. She knows we have been bogged down in cold, grey, uninviting weather since the Christmas glow faded and right about now it feels as if spring will never get here. So, she gives us a sneak peak, just like a movie trailer for a blockbuster to come. Without hope, what is there to look forward to?

Hope makes all things possible. It gives us a reason to get up in the morning. It is the seed of something wonderful that we plant in our hearts. It is the promise that, regardless of how long winter feels, spring always comes.

May you week be filled with the seeds of hope, and maybe a little birdsong thrown in for a touch of joy.

And so it is. 

The Return of Flower Bear

It may not be Spring yet, but old Flower Bear has just returned from a hibernation unlike those of winters past. She had to have one of her old hips replaced with a shiny new one. Now she is back home, awake, and learning to get around all over again just like a brand new bear cub. It has certainly been a learning experience.

Just when we think we've seen everything, experienced everything, and know everything that this old world can teach us, life has a way of sending a new experience to you out of the blue and the learning starts all over again. In some cases, it forces us to look back at what we thought we knew for sure and start looking at it from a different perspective. Other times it could be having to relearn how to do something we have been doing for so long that we just take it for granted, like walking. It's a humbling experience when you have to re-learn to how to put one paw in front of the other without falling down and feeling foolish while you're doing it. It's also frustrating when you have to ask for help because you can't do everything you always did for yourself, at least not yet. 

So maybe the biggest lesson to come from out of all this is about having compassion for yourself, allowing yourself to take things as they come and loving yourself through the process. Maybe it's true what they say: you can teach an old bear new tricks!

And so it is.

If Trees Could Dream

I've always maintained that if you don't like the weather in upstate New York, just wait a minute and it will change. Such was the case last week when the temperatures shot up into the low 60's which was followed by a huge wind and rain storm that ushered in more normal weather for this time of the year (whatever normal means in this neck of the woods). Looking out of the window at the poor trees waving back and forth in 50+ MPH wind gusts while the warm rain pelted down, I couldn't help but feel sorry for them. Here they were, quietly enjoying their own version of winter hibernation, and along comes this freak, summer-like storm to jar them our of their sleep. From there it was only a short trip to this thought: "I wonder if trees can dream?"

I've read dozens of different articles and blog posts about the idea that trees can communicate with each other and with us. If that is true, then wouldn't it also be possible that they sleep, and, therefore, dream? Here they are after a long of season of blooming, producing food, shelter and much needed oxygen for the planet, followed by all that work of dropping their leaves and finally settling their roots down for a long winter's nap. So why shouldn't they dream? And if they do, what would they dream about? 

If I were a tree, I would dream about that first breath of fresh air when spring starts to make it's arrival known, when the sun feels warm on our branches and our roots start to wake from their winter slumber. I'd dream about new birth, new growth, and a call to "branch out" and do what we were put here to do. I'd dream about new beginnings.

Come to think of it, what trees may dream isn't so very different from what we humans dream after all. We all spend the winter hunkered down dreaming of spring, new birth, and new beginnings. We all want to stand in the sun once more. Wow. Maybe the trees have been communicating with us all along and we were just too asleep in our own lives to hear them. I think I'll go sit by the window, look at the trees, and listen ... who knows what I might hear?

And so it is. 

...And To All A Good Night

Well, here we are at the end of another year and so very close to the dawn of a new one. Most folks I know celebrate theses two back-to-back events with lots of noise, music, drinking, and hugging. While that is fine for some, I have my own way of acknowledging the passing of one year to another, one that is marked not by noise, but by silence.

When midnight is near, I like to turn off the noise of the TV, go to my bedroom window and look out at the night sky. If I am lucky, there will be some stars to see. If I am very lucky and it is not too frigid, I like to open the window and inhale the crisp, clean air. As the countdown begins. I say a silent good-bye to the old year and thank it for all that it has taught me, good or bad. Then at midnight I welcome in the new year in prayer and affirmation. I affirm that I am open to new and wonderful, experiences, and that I will do my part by staying present and willing to follow the signals I will receive. Then I sit for a moment in silent meditation.

To finish my New Year's ritual, I pull out the letter I wrote at midnight on the last New Year's Eve and see if what I affirmed and/or committed to came true It always amazes me to see what I have learned or accomplished in the year just passed, as well as what I still need to work on. Then I write a new letter for the new year and tuck it away in my special "God Box" where I put all my prayer requests and wait until next New Year's Eve to take it out and see how I've done.

I love this ritual. It places the reins of power and accomplishment in my life back in my own hands and at the same time connects me with my silent partner, be it God, the Universe, Source, or whatever you choose to call it. It gives me hope for the future and closure for the past.

I hope that this new year will be one of joy, accomplishment, and happiness for you and your loved ones. From all of us here at Flower Bear's Garden, have a wonderful 2020. See you next year!

And so it is.

Oh Christmas Tree

 There are many stories and legends out there about how Christmas trees became one of our most beloved and enduring holiday traditions. Some say it started back in the days of the Druids when they would bring a tree into the home to represent the coming of spring and new life after the long, dark winter. Along about the 16th century, it is believed that church folk started to bring trees inside to decorate as a way to celebrate the coming of new life with the birth of the Christ child. Whatever the reason, I cannot image a Christmas without some form of tree to usher in a time of hope and celebration.

Christmas trees have run the gamut from huge and ostentatious to small and humble in my life. Growing up in New York City, it wasn't officially Christmas until the huge tree in Rockefeller Center was lit up. As a child, I remember the old and treasured ornaments that we unboxed every year with love, and the shrieks of laugher as we attacked the poor tree with handfuls of that awful tinsel that got in everything. Once my own girls were grown and putting up trees in their own homes, I downsized to a smaller, table top tree ... plus I grew tired of the destruction caused by cats trying to climb up a big tree and bringing it crashing down.

Last year I saw a sweet little artificial woodland tree that spoke to me of a simpler, more holy time and my daughter gifted it to me. Now my little tree sits on the table decorated with tiny woodland creatures, homemade decorations from the little ones, and simple golden stars. It seems to me that this is more in keeping with what our ancestors had in mind when they brought forth a tree from the forest and hung it with symbols of love and life. This tree fits me perfectly.

Regardless of what your holiday traditions are concerning trees, I hope that this year you will take a moment to think about the symbol of the tree and its message of hope that promises new life to come.

And so it is

Mother Nature's Calendar

I know the calendar says that the first official day of Winter is December 21st, but according to Mother Nature's calendar, it started yesterday! Here in update New York, as well as many other parts of the country, the sleet and freezing rain started glazing the roads and every other surface before the snow moved in last night. This morning looks like a winter wonderland and the for forecast is for more to fall throughout the day. The new predictions are for 12-15 inches.

I'm sure all the kids were thrilled when they woke up to another day added on to their Thanksgiving break. The parents weren't as happy. Cars and sidewalks had to be shoveled out, childcare arrangements made if they had to go to work, and, speaking of work, were the roads even passable?

I know we should all be used to this if we've lived in this neck of the woods for even a little while, yet even for us this feels awfully early. In fact, everything seems as if it's all moved up on the calendar, from the changing of the seasons to holidays that fly past in the blink of an eye. What the heck is going on?

I'm not a time specialist or even a close buddy of Mother Nature, but even I am old enough to know that the only things that one can count on are death and taxes. Everything else is open to change just like the weather. The only way to get through it is to go with it. In essence it means rolling with the punches. So an early snowstorm is a chance to start practicing your snowman building skills. Driving slower gives you a chance to think about things. A December snow day for the kids is a free day to make their own Christmas cards or start their letters to Santa. It isn't a lousy day, or a miserable day, it's just a snowy day.

Just like no two snowflakes are alike, no two people will view change the same. It's up to you to decide if that change is the beauty of a snowy day, or just a lot of bothersome shoveling. The choice is always yours.

And so it isn't