A Weed By Any Other Name

"The only difference between a weed and a flower ... is a judgement."

Wayne Dyer

I have always loved this quote by one of the most important teachers in my life. I remember back when I first took up gardening in my mid-40's, I blindly followed what I had seen everyone else do: if something was growing where I didn't want it to grow, it was a weed and I should pull it out. This was especially true of dandelions. I was warned how invasive they were and that they would take over my entire garden if I didn't yank them out by the roots, and to make sure I did it before their yellow heads turned white and fluffy. That was when their seeds would appear and be carried by the wind all over the place to start yet another new generation of weeds.

The more I got into studying gardening, which was about the same time I started really getting in to sustainable living, I came to have a whole new appreciate for dandelions. Every part of the plant was useful, from salads, to stews and soups, and even medicinal teas. The fact that a field of sweet yellow heads popping up surrounded by an ocean of green might be a feast for the eyes was never acknowledged by my fellow gardeners. nor the happiness a small child gets from making a wish and blowing the little white froths into the air. All they were concerned with was the state of their lawns which I have come to believe is a huge waste of land and water ... think of how much food you could grow where that useless carpet now lays? 

Perspective is everything. What something means to you, how it affects you on every level, is the criteria for how you accept it or not. Our current situation certainly feels like a giant field of weeds for sure, but if we dig a little deeper, what benefits might we find? Perhaps a reassessment of how we live, what's truly important vs what we thought was important because society told us it was? Maybe thinking about downsizing or becoming a budding minimalist? Certainly learning the importance of spending less time doing things we feel we have to do and more time doing what brings us joy ... like making a wish and blowing it into the wind? Or spending more quality time with those we love?

I have been giving my living conditions another look to see how I might be able to incorporate some more houseplants in a space that doesn't get direct light and where little furry paws can't play kitty salad bar with them. It might not be the garden of my dreams, but even a tiny green space could grow herbs and plants. Gee, I wonder if you can grow dandelions on purpose?

And so it is. 

And Still She Persists

I'll bet many of us watched those old movies about the end of civilization, either due to a world war that finally went too far or a mystery illness that wiped out the planet, leaving a brave few to create a new world? I have to wonder how many of us took it seriously or just thought it was simply the latest Science Fiction gimmick? As we sit home and try to find some purpose and meaning to what has been going on in the real world, in real time, wondering what kind of a world we'll be left with when all this is over, someone else has already taken the reins. Actually, she had them all along. We were just to wrapped up in ourselves to notice.

The "She" I'm talking about is, of course, Mother Nature, and if you don't think she's been on the job since all this started, take a look at what is going on in countries around the world:

• The skies over China are becoming clear, and the air cleaner, since all of the factories are closed - now the masks they wear are for the virus, not the pollution.
• The waters of Venice are no longer filled with garbage. Now wildlife like swans and fish are swimming happily along the canals.
• All over the world the air quality is improving, trees are in bloom, the robins are back, and the earth is reclaiming its own.

All the press conferences and breast-beating of men in positions of power can't hold a candle to the wisdom and experience of Mother Nature, our Mother Earth, when it comes to knowing what to do, and stepping up to do it without thought to who gets the credit, or how to make it all work. 

There was once an amazing documentary on TV (I think it was Discovery but I could be wrong) called "Life After People." It showed what would happen to the earth if all the people were suddenly gone. What is showed is that after all the man-made atrocities self-destructed, slowly but surely the earth came back. It replanted itself, it reclaimed itself, it reintroduced all the animal species ... and it got on just fine without us. 

As we all sit indoors pondering our future, perhaps instead of trying to think ourselves out of this one, we simply look out of the window and take some notes from the one who has always had the answers if only we'd stopped long enough to notice. Einstein is famous for having said: "You can't solve problems by using the same thinking that created then." Maybe it's time we turned off the thinking and turned on the seeing. 

Rock on, Mother Nature!

And so it is.

Vicarious Gardening

This is Monty Don, known across the pond as "Britain's Gardener" (that's his dog, Nell, on his lap). Monty has become my new favorite person thanks to BritBox and an enforced hibernation due not only to surgical recovery time but now this insane virus that has propelled me into the high risk category. Just when I was on my way to an OK from my doctor to get out and about more, I am now forced to practice radial social distancing a.k.a. not going anywhere but downstairs for the mail and maybe a walk around the parking lot of my complex ... as long as I don't go near anyone coming or going. Enter my new BFF, Monty.

It's been quite a while since I've been able to garden the way I used to. My first and favorite garden, complete with vegetable patch, herbs, bulbs, flowers, shrubs, etc., is a distant memory as is my container garden housed on the enclosed porch of the apartment where I lived for 15 years. Circumstances have landed me in a sweet little studio apartment on the third floor of a walk-up with not even a tiny porch or speck of outdoor space. The exception is my window sills which would be perfect if they were not also the favorite resting place of my sweet cats, one of whom has already claimed any and all plants that live there as either part of her kitty salad bar or a plaything to be dug up and tossed across the room (this is previous experience speaking here). I own only two plants at the moment,  a small bamboo sitting is a big pot in the corner, and something that looks like the top of a pineapple - but isn't - that I rescued about 15 years ago from the desk of a co-worker who was laid off and not inclined to take it with her. To say it has grown on me is an understatement but I can't part with it. I am currently in the process of trying to figure out how I can use the wall for house plants according to space available and the amount of sunlight I get. The quest to play in the dirt continues.

 In the meantime, I happily discovered Monty's TV show on BritBox called "Gardener's World" and have been binge-watching Season 1 (29 episodes) with Season 2 in a holding pattern (32 episodes). He is also appearing on Netflix in three other different gardening shows. Needless to say that while I may not be able to enjoy the flowers of spring outside my home, I can enjoy what I call vicarious gardening. This is the ability to enjoy watching and learning from the pros while collecting ideas for the future. The real trick here is not to let it make me melancholy for the gardens I used to have or could have. Once again, it's all in how you look at it, and Monty makes it fun, informative, and leaves you begging for more. I have to admit I'm developing a bit of a crush on him!

It would be so easy to sit there in front of the tube and let myself get depressed or feel jealous. I have to confess that it did set in for the first episode or two. As I kept coming back each day I started to realize that I was robbing myself of pleasure by behaving like a child who has had her privileges taken away. After all, it's not about how you garden, it's about enjoying the process however you can. It's about learning new things, and coming up with new and innovative ideas that fit your needs. This isn't just true of gardening, but of anything you love to do but haven't been able to for one reason or another. It can either be a negative thing, or a challenge to find a different way to experience the same enjoyment. The amount of energy you use up will be the same either way, so why not make it the best alternative you can come up with, and then congratulate yourself for your creativity and courage. As I've always said, perspective is everything. 

As for me, I am doing a bit of online window shopping in search of wall-mounted plant holders. With summer just around the corner, I have a feeling that a little bit of basil and lavender will do just fine on the wall above my mystery plant ... and no feline will be able to reach it! The quest continues.

And so it is. 

Memories of March

Some of my fondest memories of March take me back a few years to when I was living in the little town of Marathon, about an hour south of Syracuse, in my sweet little apartment on Front Street. Once the weather started warming up, my daily walks along the river turned up something new every day, a hint that spring was, indeed, just around the corner if we could hold on a little longer.

The first was the morning I'd wake up to the sounds of men's voices, the bing, bing, of a hammer on a nail, and metal pails banging around the bed of a truck. I wouldn't even have to open my eyes to know what was going on right outside my window: they were tapping the maple trees. All along the river mighty maple trees stood tall, shading us in the summer, and acting as a wind break in the winter. On that day, the steady drip, drip, drip of the sap would begin it's journey into the pails. Every few days the truck would come around and empty them into a big drum and take it with the others across the river to what we lovingly named "The Sugar Shack." There the sap would be boiled over a roaring fire that was kept burning day and night (the men of the town actually took shifts to make sure the mixture never cooled and the fire was kept going). All over the village the smell of maple syrup was so overpowering that the local diner and restaurants were kept busy each morning with customers who were craving pancakes, waffles, and homemade maple syrup. In a few weeks time, our annual Maple Festival would draw thousands of people from all over the area for a chance to see just how many ways maple syrup could be eaten, from candy and baked goods to roasted meats and veggies. There were hay rides, craft booths, the library book sale, all kinds of food, a Civil War encampment, and generally an all-around fun weekend (needless to say the book sale and the food alone were enough to make me happy). That's my first memory of March in Marathon.

My second memory of March in Marathon was when I would catch that first sight of the pussy willows growing along the river bank. There are those who do not think very highly of pussy willows because they are not indicative of the showy, colorful flowers of spring like daffodils or crocuses. To me they are the first sign that the rest of the spring plantings will be poking their heads through the dirt very soon. I used to cut the branches I could reach without falling in the river and make an arrangement on the bookcase in my writing room so that I could enjoy them every day and as a reminder that, when Mother Nature decided to hit us with just one more snowfall (after all, it is March in upstate New York for heaven's sake), I could look at them and be reminded of what was surely to come soon.

My last memory of March in Marathon also took me along the river. It was the return of the wild life. The geese would swarm in every morning and push the ducks out of the way, the otters would be scampering along the banks, and the beavers would be busily repairing and rebuilding their homes for the sure-to-come spring rains and the rest of the snow melt from up north that would raise the water levels of the river.  Just to watch them at work, each one with his own special job to do, working together like a well trained team, was enough to remind me that the animal world certainly has plenty to teach us mere humans about how to get things done.

It's been quite a while since I walked the river in Marathon or woke to the sound of the pails being hung on the maple trees. I'd lying if I said that I didn't still miss it terribly, but I know that if I want to bring back those sweet memories of March in a small town, all I have to do is find some pussy willows and put them in a vase on the table where I can remember the promises they bring every March even if there are still a few more snowflakes out there before spring can finally arrive.

And so it is. 

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.