Not Done Yet

Many years ago when I was just beginning my journey as a gardener, still "green behind the ears" (pardon the pun but it was just there and I had to use it), I was driving home from work one very hot Friday afternoon and decided to stop at a local Home Depot near my office to see what they had in the Garden Center that might look nice in my brand new garden. Not being very well educated in what would work well for my area of the state, my Zone, as they say, I figured talking to someone who knew plants might help.

As I walked around the Garden Center, I saw all sorts of beautiful, flowering plants and luscious shrubs, but what caught my eye was a large cart that held a mountain of dead or dying plants just waiting to be taken out back and dumped. Right on the top was a large pot holding something that looked like it was on its last legs ... or stems, as it were ... and I felt myself being drawn to it. I took out the little card sticking up out of the pot that told you what kind of plant it was and what its sun and watering needs were. It was a foxglove, a purple foxglove. I loved foxgloves. My heart hurt for this sad plant that was being tossed aside because it wasn't relevant any more. Once it had been a seed full of promise, now it was being discarded because in the eyes of others, it had no worth. I pulled back some of the drying leaves and dug my thumb nail into the stem. Sure enough, I saw green. I picked at a few other spots on the plant and found more green hiding under the brown. I picked up the pot and asked the guy watering the plants if I could have the foxglove.

"Sorry, ma'm, but that plant is on the garbage pile to be dumped out back for compost."

"Well, then, can I just take it instead of making you dump it? You'll be rid of it either way."

The man said that he'd have to check with the manager since he didn't think I could just take it out of the store without paying something for it even if it was headed for compost. He returned a few minutes later and said: 'You can have it for $3.00, but I think it's a waste of money," So I paid the $3.00 and headed out. 

I had a 40 minute drive on a very hot, late afternoon with no working AC in my old car, so I stopped at the nearest dollar store and picked up a large bucket and two gallons of water. I put the plant in the back seat, emptied one of the gallons of water on the plant to submerge it, and drove like hell with all the windows open.  When I got home, I added the second gallon to totally submerge the plant, put it in the least sunny spot for overnight, and told it I wasn't ready to give up on it yet. The next day I emptied some of the water until it was just at the right depth to let the leaves dry out but keep the roots moist and put it in the sun. On Sunday, I took it out and planted it. In two weeks it had established itself and was actually standing up on its own without staking. In three weeks I had big, beautiful, purple bell-shaped flowers that I swear were smiling. 

We get to a certain age in life where we begin to feel irrelevant. We start out in life so full of promise and dreams for the future, then suddenly, before we know it, we look in the mirror and see this strange, old person staring back at us. People start to treat us differently when we're sporting grey hair instead of brown, and wrinkles where once our skin had been smooth and luminous. There are even times when people don't seem to see us at all. So what's the cure for people who no longer feel relevant? The same as it was for that foxglove: water, breathe, nurture, and plant in the sunshine. Feed and water yourself with positive thoughts, eat healthy and drink lots of water, get out in the sunlight (okay, take the sunscreen but you know what I mean), and smile ... lots and lots of smiling. Find something that brightens your spirit and sparks your curiosity. Pretty soon people will no longer be seeing grey hair and wrinkles. They'll be asking themselves: "What does she know that I don't, and how do I get some?" That's when you tell them: " Go plant a flower and smile."

And so it is. 

Did He, Didn't He, And What's The Point, Anyway?

You may think it a bit odd that I would be writing about George Washington chopping down the cherry tree here at Flower Bear's Garden. Not at all. A cherry tree is part of nature and isn't that what I write about every week - how nature influences our lives? Also, as it is Presidents' Day, I thought it would be interesting to find a way to work it in. Never let it be said that I can't come up with a good reason for what I write, strange as it may sometimes seem!

The truth about Washington cutting down the cherry tree, as it was explained on the Mount Vernon website, is that it was the imaginative creation of Mason Locke, a minister-turned-itinerant bookseller and one of Washington's first biographers. What is more important is the moral of the story, for grownups as well as children: honesty is the best policy. From my perspective, it also reminds me that even if the cherry tree falls, all we need to do is plant a few seeds and a new one will grow. 

So here is my take on the whole thing: If we are honest and truthful, even if we make a mistake, we can always plant new seeds and grow something even better. Happy President's Day!

And so it is. 

Green With Envy

I was watching a nature show on BritBox last week called "Winter Watch." The hosts spent two weeks traveling all over the U.K. showing stories of how the natural world and it's creatures survive the winter in their fair land. As beautiful and interesting as it all was, what hit me the hardest was hearing that they already have snowdrops, those first brave shoots of spring, coming up all over the place. Some areas have even been seeing them come up since the end of January. To say that I was green with envy was an understatement: I was bright, bold, green!

Back when I had my big garden in the little town up north from where I live now, watching for the snowdrops was what kept me going through winters that I was sure would never end. Day after day, well into March, I would check out the bed where I had planted them and watch for those first tiny green shoots, and then for the delicate little white flowers struggling to raise their heads and face the sun. They were so very symbolic of how we all felt waiting for the last of the snow to melt and the buds to return to the trees. We all needed something to hold on to in order to make it to spring.

We humans are very much like our gardens. Sometimes it seems as if spring will never come, the sun will never shine again, and out best growing days are behind us. It feels as if it takes longer and longer for us to spring back and put out those tender, tentative new shoots again, afraid that it's too late and we're too old to take root again. It is precisely for that reason that we have to find that one thing to hold on to, that gets us through until our attempts at starting over, whether it be a new life or even just a new day, start to send up shoots. It could be our faith, our family, or, as in my case, a few small pots on a windowsill or table-top that, somehow, find a way to start again in the spring. Whatever it is, believe in it, have faith in it, and feed it with all the love and positive energy you can muster. One fine spring morning, those first tender shoots will poke their little heads up through the earth, and a new day will begin. Count on it.

And so it is. 

Dreams In The Mailbox

Around this time of the year, back when I was a budding new gardener, February was a very important month to me. That was the month when the seed catalogs came out. I would wait impatiently, day after day, as the mailman came and went, until that day when the first one hit my mailbox. Then I would withdraw into my cozy little home on a cold winter day with a hot cup of tea, my seed catalog, and dreams of what I could grow if I just had the right seeds, the right soil, the right light, and lots of luck. In my mind's eye, I saw a lush garden with beautiful flowers, healthy vegetables, aromatic herbs, surrounded by birds and insects who thought they had found heaven on earth, as had I. That was my dream.

Fast forward to reality. If I was lucky and had a good year, maybe half of that would come true. What I knew about gardening when I first started would have fit on a postage stamp, and the rest I learned, painfully at times, by trial and error. I learned what I was good at, what I wasn't good at, what would grow up here in the cold, unpredictable northeast where I lived, and what wouldn't. Even so, I was proud of every little sprout and bud that survived. It was like I had found a working relationship with Mother Nature and together we could create something beautiful.

It's been many years since I had that garden. I no longer get seed catalogs in the mail. It has taken me three years to get my tiny, tabletop garden into any kind of shape but I have to say that what I have managed to create is hanging in there despite our harsh winters thanks to a grow light, lots of love, and creating an  ecosystem that works for them:

Gardening has taught me many things about life over the years. It has taught me that, as Henry David Thoreau said, if you have faith in a seed, it it will grow. When we plant seeds of hope, love, compassion, generosity, and faith, and if we water them with love and attention, what is meant to grow, will grow, and it will be all the stronger and more beautiful for our efforts. I may not be able to grown roses and apple trees in my tiny garden, but I can grow herbs that feed my body, and plants that feed my soul. Not a bad return on my investment if I do say so myself!

And so it is.

Ice, and Snow, and Cold ... Oh My!"

We were fortunate up here in my neck of the woods to have missed the terrible storm that bombarded the East Coast over the weekend. Our only evidence was the wind and, of course, the cold. We have been in a bitter deep freeze for the last few weeks, with overnight temps below zero. When it hits in the 20's during the day, we celebrate. This week they are predicting 40 degrees by mid week - hooray! Except, of course, there is a snow storm headed our way for the end of the week. I don't care what the Groundhog sees on Wednesday, winter is here and it's here to stay until spring ... and the only one who knows when they will happen is Mother Nature. 

This morning I woke to -3 degrees and now, at 9 AM, it is a whopping 0 degrees. However, the sun has come out and, against the brilliant blue sky, and the snow covered roofs and yards, it is an almost blinding light, but I'll take it. Nothing works better to lift my dark, cold, winter mood-swings than a burst of sunshine. I only wish the cold outside would match the warmth in my soul on a sunny day, but, it's winter, folks. That's the way it is. One day it is dark and gloomy (ok, lots of days are dark and gloomy), and then Mother Nature turns on the light and the sunshine lights up the world. Even the birds and animals find a little extra energy. The other day when it was sunny and hit an whole 25 degrees, I spied two very large and angry crows chasing a small hawk across the sky, letting that hawk know in no uncertain terms that he was not welcome here in crow territory. I also need not have worried about my furry little squirrel neighbors next door. The snow covered roof is also covered in tiny footprints up and down, and I even caught Mom and Dad playing chase in the giant pine tree next to the house. Of course, none of this takes place until well into the afternoon. When it's -3 degrees, everyone, even the furry and feathered ones, tend to sleep in until it warms up just a tad!

I guess the point to all of this is that winter is what it is: cold, snowy, icy, and seemingly endless. Yet, spring will come, the buds on the trees will bloom again, and the earth will come alive again. Of that we can be certain. So, I think I'll go make another cup of tea, drag out my yarn bag, and see if there is one  more scarf or set of mittens in me to create. After that, maybe I'll start thinking about making a pretty little cotton tote bag for spring! 

And so it is. 

A Question Of Faith

"Thought I do not believe that a plant will spring up where no seed has been, I have great faith in a seed. Convince me that you have a seed there, and I am prepared to expect wonders."

Henry David Thoreau

I was watching TV yesterday when I heard someone say: "What's the first thing that comes to mind when I ask, what do you have faith in?" Most people would have immediately answered with something like God, their family, their church, their friends, etc. What sprang to my mind immediately, without even giving it a thought, was "nature." It's not that I don't have faith in my family or those other things I mentioned. It's just that for every single day of my life, without fail, nature has shown up and done what I expected it to do. After 72 years of that kind of commitment, how could I not have faith in nature?

Nature never makes a promise it can't keep. It never promises things that don't make any sense. It never tells you in January that, if you don't like the cold and snow, it will give you sunshine and 70 degrees. It never mixes up the seasons; winter, spring, summer, fall, repeat. You can count on nature. As Thoreau mentioned above, if we plant a seed in the spring, and do everything that Mother Nature would do if she had planted it - like water it, feed it, give it sunshine - the seed will produce something wonderful. 

Now, I'm sure there are those of you out there who will say, "but what about things like storms, floods, earthquakes, droughts, etc?" Well, what about them? When certain weather conditions come together in a certain way, these things will happen. Something to seriously consider, however, is how much of it comes from what we humans have done to the planet? From the greenhouse gases, from cutting down trees and depleting forests, to poisoning the soil, and watching the good topsoil be reduced to nothing? How do we blame nature for reacting to what we have done to it? 

This morning it was 10 degrees when I woke up, which was actually a blessing after the -11 degrees I woke up to the other day. Listening to folks complaining about the cold, the first thing that comes to mind is: "hey, people, it's January. Unless you live in Australia, it's winter. In winter, cold will happen." It's not like nature lied to them or anything. Two months from now, I have faith that I will start to see the first tiny green shoots on the trees, and the earth begin it's march to spring. I have faith that, even with snow on the ground and 10 degrees on the thermometer, spring will come again. If I have faith in anything, it is that spring, indeed, will come again.

And so it is. 

Watching Winter

 

My post this week is going to be short and sweet because I am currently caught up in one of my favorite pastimes at this time of year ... I'm watching winter. Yes, it's snowing here, finally, after weeks of only a light dusting, brutal cold, and winds that would knock you over. There's about 5 or 6 inches out there so far and the forecast is for snow showers on and off for the rest of the day. My friends and neighbors might not be as excited as I am to see the snow since I'm not the one out there doing the shoveling or trying to clean off the car .... much as I'd like to (I'm funny that way but I can't help myself).

Just to clarify what I'm doing, I'm not just watching it snow. I'm watching winter. I'm watching how the light is so different at this time of year. I'm watching the crows flying up high, calling to each other and racing across the sky (do crows catch snowflakes on their tongues, I wonder?). I'm watching the small pine trees looking like they were dipped in sugar, and the tiny paw prints of my squirrel neighbors who obviously went out before it got so deep to find breakfast and hurry back home. I'm watching how different the snowflakes are, the really big, fat ones mixed in with the smaller, cotton-like ones, no two alike ... kind of like people, right? I'm watching the faces of the people shoveling and plowing outside, the ones who look mad, and the ones who are smiling ... my fellow winter-watch people!

So, here's the thing: snow, and cold, and winter in general, can either be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on how you look at it. My old mentor, Dr. Wayne Dyer, was fond of reminding us:

"When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change."

I sure do miss old Dr. Wayne, but his words still guide me, through thick and thin, and through all the winters of my life. So, today, I'm watching winter out of my window, hot chocolate in hand, and feeling nothing but gratitude that I get a window seat on all this beauty.

And so it is.