Feeding Our Senses

 

The last surge of Indian Summer has finally had it's day and November is back with a vengeance. It is cold, cloudy and very blustery. We had a heavy ran yesterday and today the words snow flurries made it into the forecast. What better day to enjoy the gifts of the harvest and get a big pot of soup bubbling on the stove!

"Soup is the song of the hearth and the home."

Louis Pullig DeGouy 

There is something about a good pot of soup, especially one like vegetable soup, that feeds all of our senses. First we see the beautiful colors of the veggies, the bright orange of the carrots, the deep greens, perhaps the yellow of squash or freshly shucked corn. Then we feel the food in our hands as we wash it, peel it, and cut it up. Next we hear the onions and veggies sauteing in the pot, that sound that signifies the beginning of the process. Then we begin to  smell the aroma as the ingredients do their job and the soup starts to bubble away, filling our home with that smell that only soup can provide, the one that says, "home sweet home." Finally, that first taste of the goodness that Mother Nature provided for our nourishment and pleasure.  

I have often heard it said that soup is the perfect meal. I would have to agree with that. It certainly does feed all of our senses and, even more important, it feeds our souls as well as our bodies. I don't know about you, but I'm feeling the urge to "put up a pot of soup" as my mother used to say. How about you?

And so it is. 

O' Thanksgiving Tree?

 

In times of stress and the fear that it's only going to get worse, humans tend to cling to things that bring them a sense of comfort and security - hence the term  security blanket. For some of us it's a well worn bathrobe, or a blanket, or music that calms our nerves, or movies that hit our feel good buttons. Maybe it's grandma's chicken soup or carrying on with our Sunday tradition of beer, finger foods, and football. Or, maybe it's ... a Christmas tree. 

Yes, you read that correctly - a Christmas Tree. I have come across several folks on Facebook who have put up their trees. Some are decorating them with autumn themes like pine cones, dried flowers and dried fruit with the idea of re-decorating them after Thanksgiving with a more Christmas-like theme. A few folks that have done this have shared that there is something about a tree that gives out a sense of stability and feeling grounded. One woman wrote that by decorating it first for Thanksgiving, she was showing her gratitude for the seasons, for the abundance that nature provides. It helps her to stay rooted in her values.

I have written about trees on this blog over the last seven years probably more than any other aspect of nature and what they bring to our lives. Given what is going on in the country, and in the world, at the present time. I can't think of a better quote about trees than this one from writer and activist Tasneem Hameed:

"Learn character from trees, values from roots, and change from leaves."

Trees never try to be something other than they are, a strong presence in nature, a provider of food and shelter, for all living things, and a reminder that even when all their leaves fall to the ground, in spring they will return. A maple tree doesn't dream of being a pine tree. An oak tree isn't envious of the blossoms on a cherry tree. They are who they are, they live out their lives knowing that the sun will rise again, the seasons will change, and there's enough for everyone. 

A few years ago after downsizing to a small studio apartment, I traded in my bigger artificial Christmas tree (my daughter is allergic to live ones) for a smaller one that is covered in flocking like snow and sits wrapped in a burlap ball just like the trees do when their planted. I love this little tree because it so reminds me of how they look in nature. Maybe, just maybe, I'll haul it out and decorate it in pine cones and dried berries, and colorful cut-out autumn leaves. And maybe, just maybe, it will remind me every time I look at it of how grateful I am for all that I have. 

And so it is.

There's Always Something We Can Do

If you're not into gardening, then you probably think that after all that produce is harvested and the last pumpkin has made it out of the pumpkin patch, that's it for the gardening year. So I'll tell you a little secret that only gardeners know: in gardening, just like in life, there's always something we can do. Let me give you some examples for November:

1. Planting bulbs - the bulbs you plant now will give you blooms in the spring. Kind of like when you plant an idea or an intention for something you want to grow in your life. Sometimes it takes a while for it to bloom, just like the daffodils and tulips, but if you plant it deep and give it love, it will bloom for you.

2. Plant up bare-root trees and shrubs - some things that have already started producing roots are ready to go into the ground. This is when you'll see if those roots have been fed and nourished enough to survive the challenges of winter. If we've done a good job nourishing our goals and dreams, giving them strong roots, they'll make it through the challenges ahead.

3. Protect what needs protecting - thin young trees and things like roses will need protection from the winds and frosts. They need staking and sometimes will require some serious pruning to give them a stronger, healthier start next season. The same holds true in our lives. Things that we hold as precious need to be staked and protected from those who would try to inject unhealthy elements into our world. Wrap them in love and a strong foundation, and don't be afraid to prune off what no longer serves you.

4. Let the leaves work for you - I know, raking leaves seems like and endless and thankless job, but those very leaves make some of the best compost for your garden. Just rake them up, put them in black trash bags with drainage holes in the bottom, store them behind the garage or shed, and next spring you'll have some beautiful leaf mulch to spread all over your garden. It's kind of like the old saying: if life hands you lemons, make lemonade. It isn't what life throws in your path, it's what you do with it that matters.

For all of the years that I've gardened in one fashion or another, not one year goes by that I don't learn something new about life along the way. Even after all these years, there is always something new to learn. We just need to keep our eyes, and our hearts, open to what Mother Nature wants to share with us!

And so it is. 

Ode To A Pumpkin

 

It occurred to me the other day that I had no idea where the tradition of carving out pumpkins came from. I had a vague notion that it probably had come over from Europe with our ancestors as so many of our holiday traditions had. I did a little research and found out that this one comes to us from Ireland.  According to legend, Jack, the town drunk, tried to outsmart the Devil but got his comeuppance when he died. He couldn't get into Heaven and the Devil wouldn't let him into Hell either. Instead the Devil imprisoned Jack to an even darker fate. He sent Jack into the dark night to roam the world for eternity with only a coal to light his way. Jack lit the coal and put it in a hollowed-out turnip and has been drifting through the world with it scaring children ever since. The townsfolk began to refer to this figure as "Jack of the lantern" and soon people began carving their own lanterns out of turnips, beets, and potatoes, lighting them to ward off his evil spirit. When the Irish settlers discovered pumpkins upon arriving in the New World, they adapted the tradition, finding these new, larger veggies to be ideal for carving. 

What interested me the most about this story is that with many holiday traditions like Christmas trees and the Yule Log, the focal point is always something from nature. When you think about it, that's all that our ancestors had at the time to mark the event or occasion. As always, Mother Nature provided and still does to this day. Sure, it's festive to see the stores all decorated, as well as people's homes, but the plastic and paper versions just don't do it for me. I, along with the majority of folks, still need the real thing, like pumpkins, Indian corn, gourds, and corn stalks. We still need to feel that connection to the earth and nature that runs through all of our most cherished traditions and, I suspect, in our very "blood memories," as Sidney Poitier once called it. All I know is that when I hold a pumpkin or a gourd in my hand, and play with the silky stalks atop the Indian Corn, I am back with my ancestors harvesting the land and, just to be safe, lighting that light. May it continue always!

And so it is. 

A Day To Feed The Soul

 

Thankfully, despite all that is going on around us, there are still opportunities to feed our souls. Last week I took advantage of the glorious weather we had and took the day off from blogs and writing commitments. Instead I went with my family to the country. It was our annual trip to the pumpkin farm and although there was plenty of social distancing, hand sanitizer stations, and required masks, nothing could take away the feeling one gets from being in nature. 

While the kids ran around feeding the farm animals and looking at the pumpkin statues of characters from movies and children's stories, I couldn't stop myself from simply wandering around, looking out over the fields of withered corn stalks, bales of hay sitting in rows waiting to be collected, and the mass of trees that bordered the farm, a blaze of color and light. I stood by a fence and just breathed, deeply. I let the sun warm my face and the free, fresh breeze of the outdoors blow off all of the dust and disappointment from weeks of being inside, only stepping out cautiously once in a while for groceries or to have Sunday dinner with my family. Out here all of the fear and anxiety were blown away on an Autumn breeze, and replaced with the smell of freshly turned earth, of crows cawing in harmony, and the sounds of children laughing at the antics of the goats who were happy to show their gratitude for the feed that came down the shute by prancing around. 

No matter what else this global crisis and the political storms may do to our lives, nothing can take away that greatest of all medicines, nature. Nothing can take away the beauty of a sunset or the promise of a sunrise. Nothing can rob us of the seasons, of the rolling hills of color in the Autumn, and the burst of green and new life in the Spring. The wind still ruffles our hair, the birds still sing and fly in formation, and we can still lay back and look for puppies and dinosaurs in the clouds. Even when the snows come, and they will, we can still step outside and let the frozen air bite our cheeks to remind us that we are still alive, and that the sun will come up again tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.

I took myself to the country to feed my soul, to clear my lungs and my mind, and to fill my heart with hope. That, dear friends, is my prescription for you.

And so it is. 

Rainy Days, Mondays, And Pumpkins

 

 It's Monday, it's raining ... and I'm thinking about pumpkins!

As a rule, I usually enjoy Mondays. I like getting back into a routine after the weekend which is usually reserved for family time and, as it's Autumn, my beloved football. Rainy Mondays, however, set me back a bit. I'm slower getting started, slower releasing myself from my nice, warm, bathrobe and fuzzy slippers, and planting body in chair to start writing. I procrastinate some more by going for another cup of coffee, setting a reminder to get more cat litter at the store, and then I see a pickup truck drive by the window with a load of pumpkins and corn stalks in the back. A totally involuntary smile appears on my face. What is it about pumpkins that elicits that response?

Yesterday I went over to my daughter's house for Sunday dinner as usual and drove by an indoor organic gardening center that opened up this past spring. Outside was a huge display of pumpkins, corn stalks, gourds and bushel baskets of apples, but it was the pumpkins that drew my eyes. Orange is such a happy color, don't you think?

I don't know about you, but when I see pumpkins, I think about Autumn, my favorite season. I think about leaves changing into magnificent bowers of color, of pumpkin spice flavored everything, of sitting by the fire (a virtual one in my case) sipping cocoa or chai tea in flannel pajamas. I think about Halloween and Thanksgiving, of pulling out my yarn and crochet hooks to see what I can create for gifts to warm the bodies and hearts of my loved ones, and the smell of apples cooking down to make applesauce. I think of home, love, safety, and family. That's what makes me smile when I see pumpkins.

This year I truly believe that those feelings, those sentiments, are more cherished and embraced than ever before. In a time when we feel helpless and afraid, the sight of pumpkins sitting on our front porches or out in front of a farmer's market re-connects us with something we can hold on to, something that hasn't been lost along with so much else. We can still decorate our homes, make applesauce, and pull out our crochet hooks. We can still gather together in our homes and feel that love and sense of familiar that we so crave. Those are the moments that no one and nothing can take away from us. What is in our hearts is there for all time, just like the seasons. 

And so it is. 

All The Seasons Of Our Lives

 

These last two weeks it's been had to figure out what season we were in here in upstate New York. We traveled back and forth from summer, to fall, to winter, to a bit of spring, and back to summer again. It felt as if we were reliving the entire year in the space of just a few weeks. The summer heart cooled down to more fall-like temperatures, then did a nosedive with enough frost to coat the cars and endanger any plants that were fooled into thinking it was still summer ... which, a few days later, actually happened when the temperatures climbed into the low 80's. If I was a plant, I'd swear I was experiencing what humans call "seeing my life pass before my eyes."

I've been feeling a lot like that myself lately. With all the changes that have been thrown at us over the last few months, one of the things that has come from having so much time on my hands is the luxury of looking back over the seasons of my life and trying to see what part all of these changes and challenges will play in the story of my life. Before all of this it was easy to see my life in the same way that I see the life of a garden (which, after all, was the whole point of starting this blog in the first place). We prepare the soil, order the seeds we wish to see grow, plant them with care (spring), water and nurture them, feed and water them, learn to be patient as we wait for them to produce (summer), harvest them when they are ready and enjoy the bounty (fall) , and prepare the garden for the long sleep of winter. It's the same with all of the seasons of our lives. Spring is our childhood when everything is new. Summer is when we learn to grow, to become the adults we hope to be. Fall is when we finally harvest the bounty of all we've put into our lives, not only in a material sense, but in the wisdom we've gained as well. Finally, the winter of our lives shows up, usually much faster than we'd imagined, and we settle down to rest, to reflect, and then turn it all over to nature to show us what the next step will be.

It's been very hard to see where all of these crises fit into our lives since they are affecting people who are currently in one season or another. For the youngsters it is scary and they feel lost, groundless. For the adults, they feel helpless to do anything to help themselves and their families. For those of us in what we'd like to call our wisdom years, all we can do is look back at some of the other crises in our lives and remember how we got through those. Natural disasters? Personal disasters? Political and economic disasters? Wars, terror attacks? We've gotten through them all and we're still here. Just as the seasons come, and go, and then come around again, so, too, will this moment, this season in our lives move on. What the next season will look like is anyone's guess, but just like this recent "four seasons in one month" that we experienced up here, we just need to follow the signs and prepare accordingly. For me it's pulling out my sweat pants and sweat shirts, but keeping a few pairs of shorts handy as well. Experience and nature are our best teachers after all.

And so it is.