Welcome Back, Sunshine!

 

The first week of May turned out to be anything but spring-like. It poured with rain all week, with temperatures way below normal, and a wind that just wouldn't quit. Then last Saturday, as if Mother Nature pulled back a huge, dark curtain, we woke up to sunshine, blue skies, and the greenest greens I've ever seen. My first inclination was to start pulling my plants out from under the grow lights on my tabletop garden and put them on the windowsill so they could soak in the natural light they deserved. Since then we've had sunshine and more seasonal temperatures every day, and my plants have been soaking it up big time. I swear my wax begonias have grown several inches in just a week, and the plant I thought had died started sending up tiny new shoots. Thank you, Mother Nature!

So often in our lives we have what seems like a never-ending series of setbacks, a run of bad luck, with no light at the end of the tunnel that we can see: "Will I ever feel better? Will the pain ever end? Will I ever be able to move forward with my dreams?" Even getting out of bed feels like a major effort. Then, one day, we wake up and the sun is shinning. It could be literal sunshine just like the other day, or it could finally be a step forward: the pain is gone, life looks better, hope starts calling our name again. Wayne Dyer, one of my greatest teachers of all time, was fond of sharing this Native American quote:

        "Even in nature, no storm lasts forever."

Just like my plants who thrived once they were in natural sunlight, my newly replaced knee felt better - not completely healed, but better. I started thinking about wanting to get out and start walking in the sunshine instead of inside a mall. I tore apart my tiny abode and started re-arranging furniture. Someone came up to me unexpectedly and asked me when my next book was coming out so they could read it because they had enjoyed the first one. The rain was gone ... on the outside and on the inside as well. Like my plants, I felt the need to stretch my leaves and reach for the sun.

Now, let's be reasonable. The rain will return as it always does, but we don't have to return to the dark thoughts and feelings. Know in your heart and mind that the sun will eventually return, and that you will be able to move forward. It just takes patience and faith ... just like Mother Nature shows us every day.

And so it is. 

Forced To Bloom

The wild and unpredictable Spring weather continues to keep everyone on their toes. We had a taste of summer that lasted over a week with temperatures in the mid to upper 80's - and even hit 90 degrees on two occasions. Then a wind and rain storm of biblical proportions blew threw and the nights were back down in the 30's with highs during the daytime in the 40's and 50's ... and then back to 70's and 80's again until today when I woke up to 34 degrees. It's gotten to the point where I have to make sure I have several items of clothes for every season available since I never know what I'll wake up to!

If you think this see-saw weather is challenging on humans, one can only imagine what it is doing for the trees and plants. The little tree in the front yard next door usually isn't fully in bloom until early May. It burst into leaf in 10 days! Everyone's front lawns look like the colors of June, the daffodils, tulips and crocus shot up out of nowhere, and the dandelions are already blanketing the neighborhood. Mind you, these things usually take weeks to happen at this time of year in this growing zone, and aren't complete until early to mid May. The unusually hot weather and all the rain has forced them to bloom at an accelerated rate to the dismay of hay fever sufferers. I have to wonder what affect it will have on the plants and trees when summer really gets here. 

As always, I found a life lesson in all of this. Sometimes we humans are forced to bloom before we're ready. Some event in our life, like a death, an illness, a change in our financial status, or family issues, force us to come out of our shells and stop playing it safe. We have to bloom. We have to live our best lives for ourselves and our families. We have to step up to the plate and hit a home run even if we haven't even had a chance to practice first. I'm sure the trees would have loved some time to come into the season gradually as they are accustomed to doing, but the heat and the rain left them no choice but to burst forth and flower. 

For some reason, this unusual Spring makes me think about my life, and life in general. After several months of health challenges that derailed me for a while, this big, bold spring is telling me that it's time to bloom even if I don't feel ready. It's as if the trees and flowers are taunting me, daring me to come out of my warm, dark, cozy cocoon and try my wings. If all of nature can do it, so can I. There's nothing stopping me but me. Time to bloom, girlfriend, time to bloom!

And so it is. 

Answering the Garden's Call

This past Saturday the weather went totally crazy, with temperatures up into the low 70's and plenty of sunshine before a storm tore through and took it down to 28 degrees with snow showers overnight! All I could think about as the temperature went up high enough for me throw open the windows was the pull of my tiny tabletop garden. It called to me: "Perfect day for a clean-up, don't you think?"  So I grabbed my hand tools and went to work.

There is something about spring that calls to the gardener within us like bees to flowers. Visions of plants and flowers bursting into bloom, and ideas for new arrangements, or trying out new plants, flood our minds and hearts. It is our way of shaking off the winter gloom and welcoming in new possibilities. It doesn't have to be a huge garden. It can be pots on a window sill, or, like mine, a small table set up in a safe spot where, with a little work (and lots of YouTube videos), a few pots and a grow light, it can be your own secret garden.

This year I rearranged the entire garden, moving the fairy garden up front:

Gave the larger plants more room - the begonias spent the winter doubling in size!

Can you see the little cat thermometer hiding behind the leaves?

Everyone got a good pruning, had their soil aerated, and got a healthy drink. I won't be adding any new plants just yet. I have lived up here long enough to know that, even with a grow light, we can get hit with an April snowstorm and below freezing overnight temps that will challenge anything new, especially if I'm starting from seed or introducing something that was grown in a hot house. I will wait at least until mid-May to go plant shopping. As for starting plants from seed, while I haven't been successful in doing so in this location, I am contemplating purchasing or creating a mini-greenhouse to give them a better chance of surviving. Just thinking about going shopping for gardening supplies puts a smile on my face!

Sometimes, especially after a long, cold, gloomy winter, it's not the big things that bring us joy, but the little things, things we do with our own hands, things we love, that give spring it's reputation for offering us new ideas, new hopes, and new beginnings. On Saturday, before winter made a last ditch attempt to seize the day, I felt that joy with dirty hands, a fairy village, and plants that, I swear, are happier for the time I spent with them. Love comes in all shapes and colors, even green.

And so it is.

Welcome Spring ... Finally!

The people responsible for creating the Gregorian calendar that we follow obviously never experienced the seasons in upstate New York. It may say that the first day of spring is March 20 on paper, but up here we are as likely to have several inches of snow on the ground as we are to have the first snowdrops popping up in our gardens. This year we were blessed to have a cool but sunny day to welcome spring and I could not resist throwing open my windows to usher in the new season inside as well as outside.

Still, I have been blessed to be able to see small hints that spring is finally upon us. The “angry birds,” as I call them, are once again building a nest in the hollowed out piece of siding on the house next door. Day after day I watch the mother bird haul in nesting material, sometimes pieces of long grasses or corn silks so big she has to drag them inch by inch through the opening. My squirrel family has been more active as well. During the winter they only go out in search of food and return to the warmth of their home under the porch roof as soon as possible. Lately, however, I’ve seen them playing tag in the huge pine tree and across the fences out back. My daughter and I have been putting out scraps of fruit, veggies, nuts and seeds all winter, and now when they see us coming, they sit and wait patiently instead of running away. It warms my heart to think that they trust us now. Of course, the biggest sign was the one that woke me up the other morning as a huge flock of geese came squawking and flapping across the sky overhead announcing to all that they were, indeed, home again. 

As cold as it’s been up here (wind chills in the single digits only a week ago), there have been tiny green shoots poking up through the front gardens of the neighboring houses and in the area surrounding my church, the daffodils have begun to show themselves. I know that we are still far from safe where the weather is concerned, having lived through many April snowstorms in the 30 years I’ve lived up here, but I hold out hope that, perhaps this year, we may get lucky. Yesterday I actually saw an insect flying around outside my window, the first one I’ve seen since autumn. If that’s not a sign that spring is really here, I don’t know what is. I call it a sign of hope carried in on tiny wings. Spring has come again!

And so it is.

Of Nests, and Nuts, and Other Things

It feels like forever since I've been back here, sitting at my desk, watching my furry and feathered neighbors go about their lives and writing about it. I had a total knee replacement done a few weeks ago which has been a lot harder than I thought it would be. This morning as I sat sipping my coffee in the only comfortable armchair in the living room, I heard a slight tapping on the window and some tweeting. From the corner of the window, peeking out from behind the open curtain, sat a little finch on the outside ledge looking in and tapping away. He was only there for a moment, flying off as soon as I struggled to my feet, but it was enough to get me out of my chair, and out of my pity-party, and over to my desk chair to take up my observations once again. The armchair may soothe my body, but my window on the world soothes my soul.

The birds that live in the cracks and crevices of the house next door have started repairing their nest. In and out they go, hauling strands of dried corn silk, long grasses and other items bigger than they are through the hole in the siding. This will be their third year there and I can't wait until that spring morning when I see tiny beaks poking out, calling for their breakfast. 

My daughter has been taking care of my squirrel friends while I have been laid up and unable to haul food out to them. We have had some crazy weather, spring one day and winter the next, but I did notice that they are moving around more, scampering up and down the pine tree and even playing tag from time to time. We have continued to put out nuts and seeds for them as well as for the birds. Recently I saw two of my neighbors also putting out nuts and scraps. Maybe I've started a trend. It warms my heart to know that others feel for our animal relations as well.

Sometimes even in the darkest moments of life, it's the little things that help to pull us out of our misery and into the light of a new day. That little tap, tap, tap, on my window this morning helped me to rise and move on, redirecting my attention on the positive. If birds are nest building, can spring be far behind? If squirrels are playing tag again, and the first tiny shoots of the daffodils are pushing up through the ground, can baby birds and buds on trees be on their way? Those are the things I will look for now. Those are the things that will get me up and out of my comfort zone and over to my window on the world until I can be out there with my little neighbors, spreading nuts, seeds, and love.

And so it is. 

In Defense of Punxsutawney Phil

I feel compelled to lift my voice in defense of that poor, misunderstood groundhog, old Punxsutawney Phil. He gets all the blame for predicting six more weeks of winter which doesn't sit well with most of us here in the northern hemisphere, and especially if you live in the northeast where April snowstorms are not unusual ... and that's exactly my point.

 It's true that we can learn a great deal from watching our animal and insect friends in nature as the Native Americans did for centuries before we showed up here, and still do. The wooly caterpillar is supposed to be able to tell us how harsh a winter we're going to have. The geese, and other birds, flying south indicate the end of autumn and the beginning of colder weather ... although you couldn't tell it by the flock of geese who live on a nearby farm, complete with shelter, food, and all the comforts of home. They fly over every morning, weather permitting, and fly back at supper time.  No fools are they. Why exhaust yourself flying thousands of miles when you have it good right here? 

Anyway, of all the animals on the planet that people use to gauge the seasons, poor Phil gets the worst of it. When February 2 rolls around, he has to bear the burden of bringing the bad news that we'll have six more weeks of winter. I'm here to tell you why that's not fair.

Phil is not a meteorologist! He's a large rodent! Honestly, he has no more power to predict the seasons than my squirrel neighbors. He has to hunker down and wait it out just like the rest of us. I'm sure he'd rather stay nice and warm in his den than be manhandled every year and dragged out to take the blame for what is the normal passing of the seasons in this part of the world. I know I would. We humans are always looking for a scapegoat or, in this case, scape-ground hog, to blame someone for things out of our control. Seriously, we should be more like the bears. They have enough sense to stock up and sleep it out until spring. 

So my advice to you all is this: Get over yourselves! Take life as it comes, enjoy each day, and be glad you are alive. Leave Phil and his mates to live their own lives in peace. How'd you like to be dragged out of your home in winter at the crack of dawn? Case closed.

And so it is. 

P.S. Phil wanted you to know that he would like one of those nifty top hats for himself. 

Faith In A Seed

"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

When I had a large, outdoor garden, this time of year was like Mother Nature's Christmas. Every day new seed catalogs would appear in my mailbox and, after pouring over their pages, padded envelopes containing packets of seeds would appear not too long afterwards. I researched what would tolerate our upstate New York 5B growing zone, then order what I reasonably expected to grow as well as a few experimental or ornamental items. I am proud to say that I had a very successful few years growing vegetables, herbs, and some flowers, but others, like roses, continued to elude me. Then, of course, there was the endless battle with the critters who tunneled underground and appeared just in time to raid my sunflowers. I learned to accept that all God's creatures deserved to live and eat as much as I did, and that sharing my garden with them was a gift, not a problem to be eradicated. 

When I moved into more urban apartment living and took up container gardening, the types of catalogs that appeared in my mailbox changed, but not the enthusiasm. During the years I lived in an apartment with a large, screened-in porch, I was able to grow lettuce, tomatoes, herbs, and an assortment of flowers. When I downsized even more to where I am now, I had to give up the lettuce and tomatoes for the present, but my herbs and certain flowers are doing well. My bamboo plant has turned into a 5 foot tree, I have a big bag of basil and one of mint in my freezer for cooking, and my begonias continue to bloom under a grow light. Hmm, maybe this year I'll give those hanging cherry tomatoes and windowsill pots of lettuce a try!

The same way that I have faith in a seed, I have faith in the seeds of our intentions as we start off 2023. I believe if we plant a seed to grow a new habit, pursue a new interest, or follow our dreams, and if we give it plenty of attention, focus, and love, I will "expect wonders." Just like trying out a new seed, however, it takes patience and practice before we produce positive results. "Rome wasn't built in a day," as the saying goes. Neither does a planter full of tomatoes, a 5 foot bamboo plant, or a dream. Day by day, step by step, we water, we weed, we feed, and we pray. It it's meant to grow where it's planted, it will.

So, what seeds are you planting this year?

And so it is.