Faith In A Seed

 

"Though 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

My oldest granddaughter and her family gave me a lovely collection of organic seeds in a sturdy wooden case for Mother's Day. The crazy spring we had (and an even crazier summer right behind it) forced me to put off planting the seeds until way after Memorial Day. Weeks went by in June with barely a tiny spec of green in some pots. and none in the others. I decided that if I didn't see any more progress by the end of June, I would just go out and buy some plants to put in. Between 100 degree days followed by days of endless rain, my seeds were struggling for sure.

Fast forward two weeks after I put in the plants I bought: the seeds did, indeed, start to sprout. First came the peas, then the basil, then the strawberries, and the rest followed. It is now almost mid-July and I am trying to support a cucumber plant that is threatening to take over the entire garden!

Henry David Thoreau, my mentor and the one who guided me to move here to upstate New York 34 years ago, had great faith in a seed. Not all seeds are alike, just like not all people are alike. Some take longer to germinate, then start to grow, then blossom. That goes for people, too, It takes some folks longer to break out of their shells, take that first step out beyond their comfort zone, and, finally, to bloom. Patience is not only a virtue, it is the key to living a happy, healthy and content life.

Plant that seed. Water it, talk to it, love it, and give it time. Then be amazed at what grows. 

And so, it is. 

This Little Light Of Mine

 

I went outside the other night just after sundown to get something I'd left on the patio. I stood for a moment to look out over the yard and, especially, over my little container garden for this year. Although it had been a warm day, up into the low 80's, June has been a crazy month weather-wise. This after following on the heels of an insane month of May where we saw everything from 90-degree heat to frost warnings on the last two days of the month! Needless to say, my plants are playing catch up. The seeds I planted the last week of May are just now starting to peek out!

As I stood there looking out over the lawn, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head and looked but saw nothing at first. Then ... there it was again, a blink of light. A lightening bug. One solitary lightening bug! The first little light of the season!

I think most of us can remember summer nights when we were kids spent trying to catch those little lights and put them in a jar to make a lantern. Even as a child I always thought there was something wrong with that even though all my friends thought it was what we were supposed to do. I kept thinking of those poor, frightened bugs all shut up in those airless jars blinking for their lives. It seemed to me that doing that was not only a mean thing to do to them, but it was keeping them from doing what they had been created to do - light up the darkness and bring some light to the world.

All these years later, after decades of fighting for animal rights and to heal the earth before we lose all the lightening bugs (and the earth itself), I can't help but think that we humans are doing the same thing ourselves. We're shutting our light up instead of using it to light the world and those who live in it. I remember teaching my Sunday School students the song, "This Little Light of Mine," and hoping they'd get the message. Now they are all grown up and I am hoping that they, and all of us, are recognizing that only light can see us through the darkness. 

Let your little light shine. All those little lights together can illuminate the world!

Peace and blessings. 

Mother, May I?

 

I've been giving Mother Nature a hard time lately for which I humbly apologize. I've been complaining about the weather - from cold, to hot, to frost, and, of course, the endless rain. It's the kind of thing that grates on the nerves of all gardeners whose hands are itching to get into the dirt and start planting. So far, the only dirt I've been able to get my hands into are my houseplants! Meanwhile with all this rain, we're still trying to mow the lawn for the first time before we need a machete and a jungle guide.!

Mothers' Day is tomorrow. I want to tell Mother Nature how sorry I am for complaining to her all the time and not thanking her for all the blessings she has always bestowed on me. Thank you for bringing the leaves back on the trees and showering me with blossoms whenever the breeze blows. Thank you for the morning birdsong that greets me every morning and the sound of baby birds chirping in the nests. Thank you for the first tiny shoots of green coming out of the ground, and the promise of tulips and crocus to come. Thank you for the return of the geese who are my spirit guides and inspiration to not be afraid to fly. Thank you for breathing life into all of us.

It's sad to think that we humans often forget to thank the mothers of this world until a holiday comes along to remind us to do so. We forget all that they do for us, not just our own mothers, but those who are mothering all of us: teachers, doctors, nurses, pastors, friends, even the lady that cuts our hair. When you care for the needs of others, you are mothering. So, to all the women of the world, and some men as well, I want to say, "thank you," for nursing us, feeding us, guiding us, and loving us. Without you the world would not survive.

And so it is.

An Accidential Garden

The other day I was walking around in the yard measuring out my ideas for the new garden layout. Even though things are blooming in the southern parts of the New York State,  here up north things are just starting to come out. It's still too early to plant outside since it is not unheard of for us to get frost in April, but I can measure, draw, and design, order planters and other materials, and get ready for May to open the door to gardening in earnest. 

Anyway, as I was walking around, I noticed a small patch of Forget-Me-Not sticking out of the ground in a space when I knew I had not planted them. In fact, my entire garden last year was a container garden. I mentioned this to my great-grandson who is just getting into gardening and ready to be my partner this year. Smarter than the average 12 year old, he said: "You know, Gigi, maybe the wind blew them out of the pot or your hand when you were planting them last year, or maybe a bird did it." Never under estimate the power of a child to set you straight.

How many times in our lives do unexpected things turn up where we would least expect them to, or a door that had been closed for years suddenly open? How many times have we "planted seeds," in our lives or careers but given up hope when nothing sprouts, and see have it burst into bloom years later? I think the most important lessons I've learned in my life came from seeds I planted years ago only to see them finally shoot up now in my "golden years." Perhaps it was a mix of hope, experience, and wisdom that comes from living 70+ years that finally made them bloom. I think the idea is that hope is the seed we plant, experience is the soil, and wisdom is the fertilizer. 

Have you planted seeds in your life that haven't bloomed yet? Maybe it's time to change your soil, sprinkle a little fertilizer, and never, never give up hope. You'll be surprised what pops up in the most unexpected places.

And so it is.

 

The Wearing of the Green

 

As soon as Valentine's Day was past, stores and windows were adorned with decorations for St. Patrick's Day. Everywhere I looked were leprechauns, four leaf clovers, and a sea of green. There was green everywhere except where I wanted to see it the most ... in our back yard.

For weeks all I could see when I looked out of the window was a blanket of white. We didn't get as much snow as we usually get up here in the north, but what did fall stayed and stayed. It was an unusually cold winter and even though we had a few sunny days, the -20 windchills did not help. Then, finally, a warming trend. It got so warm that you didn't need a jacket. Mother Nature had a heck of a  hot flash because it just about hit 70 degrees before coming to her senses and sending the temperature back down in the 40's. Thankfully, it was enough to erase the sea of white and replace it with the beginnings of what I have come to call "The Greening." That is the time when the earth starts to slowly wake up and stretch her green wings. The grass turns from brown to green, the buds on the trees start to peek out, and the birds are happily flapping their own wings and setting to the task of nest building.

I don't know any gardener who lives in zones like ours that doesn't start to get impatient around this time of year. We've received out seed catalogs in the mail, and the stores are already having sales on soil, seeds, and garden tools. Now all we need is for Mother Nature to come out of hibernation along with the bears and start spreading the green around. Just like the joy in St. Patrick's Day, there's nothing like a little greenery to lift our spirits.

And so it is. 

 

Hearts, Flowers ... And An Angry Groundhog!

 

I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that in all my 76 years, I cannot remember such a long and brutal cold spell. For the last 10 days it has not only been below freezing here in upstate New York, but it has also been well below zero during the overnight, with wind chills as low as -34! I fear the poor groundhog has been getting all the blame for this terrible winter which is so unfair if you really think about it. After all, there he is, all tucked up warm and waiting out the winter, and some strange humans yank him out of his home into the bitter cold and flash all kinds of lights in his face while cheering loudly. Would you be inclined to give them a positive forecast? I think not. Besides, even the groundhog knows that in this neck of the woods, winter is going to hang on until April or May regardless of what he tells you. If you're not happy with the forecast, take it up with Mother Nature!

Thankfully we have something coming up this week that will hopefully take out minds off of the cold - Valentine's Day. Hearts are on display in all the stores, candy makers are working overtime, and flowers are flowing again, if not in our gardens, then certainly via mail and floral deliveries. The snow may be refusing to melt outside, but inside we can warm our hearts with the sight and smell of roses, and spring bouquets. In other parts of the country and places like Ireland and England, snowdrops (the flower, not the actual snow), are poking their heads up through the wet ground, tiny green shoots are as well, promising that daffodils and crocus are on their way. When the winds change from bitter cold to warmth again, our hearts and our gardens will feel the warmth again as well.

So, I've decided to write a letter to Punxsutawney Phil to apologize on behalf of "those" humans for blaming him for our bitter weather, and for disturbing him. Maybe if we send him a basket of dandelion greens and clover for Easter, he'll be kinder to us next year. Hey, it's worth a shot, right?

And so it is. 

Dreams In The Mailbox

 

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All the decorations are down, and the house has been put back in order. Many of us are hunkered down with warm blankets, a stash of tea, and some good books to help get us through the long, dark and snowy days of winter ahead. I have to admit that I'm in that group. My great-grandson got me a lovely, warm throw for Christmas. My tea draw is full, and I have at least a dozen books on my Kindle loaded and ready. There's just one more thing I need to get through the winter and keep my sanity ... the mailman!

Ok, let me explain. To a gardener, winter is seed catalog time. It's like the Easter Bunny coming early. Seed catalogs are the bible of the gardening world. When I say, "seed catalogs," I also mean gardening catalogs and magazines. Days and days of turning those glossy pages filled with pictures of flowers, veggies, herbs, pretty garden ornaments, bird baths and bird feeders, as well as unusual pots and containers, and a host of other things. The snow may be falling like a curtain outside, but inside as I sit in my favorite armchair, I am surrounded by spring.

This year I am particularly interested in learning more about container gardening and working in raised beds. My trial run last summer in the little section of my daughter's yard that has been allotted to me gave me some successes and some failures, but all of it a learning experience. Now I know what will grow, what won't, and what I will need to make it bloom. I'm also dedicated to attracting butterflies and birds which we had few of last year. All in all, it's going to be a spring and summer of fun, exploration, and learning. You're never too old to dream a dream or go for the gold! Now if that nice mailman would only get here!

And so it is. 

And So It Is Christmas

 

The tree is up and decorated. The snow is on the ground. We've dug out our warm, cozy Christmas pajamas. The blow-up Rudolph is outside with the others and lights are strung and lit. Yep, it is officially Christmas!

I love this time of year. I love to see the excitement on the faces of the little children in the stores as they stare with wonder at all the lights and decorations. I love the smell of cookies baking, the sound of paper and scissors as presents are wrapped, and the soft carols playing in the background. For just a little while, the world is warm, and loving, and magical. I don't care how old I get; at Christmas time I'm 6 years old again and Santa is bringing me the teddy bear I fell in love with in the window of the hardware store downtown!

Right now, the world is in more turmoil than I can ever remember. Every night when I say my prayers, I ask God to not let my grandchildren inherit this mess. Still, I remember also to say thank you for those warm pj's, the pretty lights, the yummy cookies, and, most of all, the greatest gift ever given. Christmas is all about children, big and small, young and old, and one very special child above them  all. 

May we never get too old to revisit the magic of Christmas for ourselves and for others, and may we never forget the true reason for the season.

Have a blessed and beautiful Christmas. 

And so it is. 

With Thanks From A Grateful Heart

 

I walked out the front door the other day after a rather heavy rain and windstorm and this is what I saw. The beautiful Japanese Maple tree had been torn of all its beautiful red leaves. A thick carpet of red covered the front lawn. The golden leaves of the other trees mixed in and surrounded it like decorative edging. Someone else might have looked at this scene and groaned at the amount of work it was going to take to clean it all up. I thought it was beautiful. I stopped to take this picture and thought to myself: "this red carpet is more beautiful than any celebrity red carpet in Hollywood. Right now, I feel like I've been given an award."

As we move closer to Thanksgiving next week, I have been taking time out to count my blessings, both big and small. I am grateful that I just passed the one-year mark of moving into my "tiny house" apartment. I am grateful that I got to plant my first real outdoor garden in years and experienced the joy of picking a luscious, ripe grape tomato and popping it in my mouth. I am grateful for my family, my church family, my friends, the family dog who guards me like the Queen, reasonably good health, access to healthy food, warm clothes, and so much more. While these are all wonderful reasons to be grateful, I have found that making time to "just be," has reminded me of so many more blessings that are all around me: porch sitting, watching the local wildlife, the sound of the train as it rumbles by, the first buds on the trees and the last leaves to fall ... and red carpets. I have discovered this year that my wealth isn't in money or things. It is in the tiny moments that remind me of what God and Mother Nature can do when they put their heads together - they create a heaven right here on earth. As long as I can wake up in the morning, watch the sunrise, hear the birds, and witness the world come alive, I am richly and deeply blessed.

To each and every one of you I wish a wonderful, bountiful Thanksgiving. May it be filled with love, family, good food, and the gift of being able to look out of the window to remember what it means to be grateful to be alive. 

And so it is. 

A Time Of Bountiful Blessings

Yesterday while driving to the store with my daughter and two granddaughters I was mesmerized by the display of autumn color all around me. The trees were ablaze with gold, red, orange, and various shades of brown. Getting into the car I couldn't help crunching away on the fallen leaves outside the house and staring in amazement at the Japanese maple out front. Truly, Mother Nature has blessed us with another bountiful, colorful autumn.

While at the store I remembered to pick up a bag of birdseed. We have a variety of birds that grace our feeders, from the tiny chickadees and wrens to Mourning doves, blue jays, robins and finches of all colors. The squirrels are also plentiful around our house, and I delight in going out to make sure there are peanuts for them. I fill the feeders with seeds of different sizes and sprinkle some on the ground beneath for those that are either too big for the feeders or who get crowded out by their larger relations. For someone who loves nature and wildlife, I am never disappointed when I look out of the window or sit on the porch. 

What I've started to notice recently are the squirrels eating some of the nuts and seeds and burying the rest. From my upstairs window I have a view of the backyard and have caught them digging and stashing their goodies for another day. I've always thought that the saying, "giant oaks from little acorns grow" came about because some squirrels buried their nuts and then forgot where they buried them, thus growing a tree instead! 

I have just passed my first full year living in my tiny house-type apartment that my daughter had built for me on the rear of her house. It has been a year of adjustments, of finding out what works and what still needs tweaking. I still can't fathom how someone who lives in two small rooms with only one closet can still manage to lose things. I see a day of rearranging and better labeling in my future. Still, it has been a year of blessings in many ways as well as a time for growing and learning new things even at my age. I am confident that more growing and learning is in my future. 

Much like a well-filled bird feeder to bless the birds, and a carpet of nuts on the ground to bless the squirrels, this has been a year of bountiful blessings that came in all shapes, sizes, and colors. It won't be long before the leaves will all have fallen to the ground, and the trees will begin their winter sleep.  We may have to look a little harder for our bountiful blessings, but rest assured they will be there if we just slow down and take the time to look for them. To everything there is a season, even for blessings.

And so it is. 

 

Welcome Apple Season!

I have begun to put my little container garden to bed. This first outdoor garden in my new home has been one of blessings and lessons. The blessings came in the baskets of tiny grape and cherry tomatoes I picked, the luscious smells of the basil, spearmint, and rosemary, and the beautiful color of the deep pink petunias. With the onset of cold nights ... low 40's already ... all but the petunias and rosemary have been harvested, the empty pots of the others cleaned out and ready to be stored until next year. The lessons have been in discovering what grows well in this space, what likes garden soil and what doesn't, and what I can do better with next year. I'm not sad, though. While my little garden may be done for the year, there is another season I adore that has made its appearance ... apples. It is Apple Season here in upstate New York and I can't wait to dive in.

What I love the most about apples besides their taste is the fact that there are so many different varieties, each with their own special attributes in cooking, baking, and eating. There are: Gala, Cortland (their home is right up the road from me), Granny Smith, Delicious, Crispin, Ginger Gold, Honey Crisp, and a host of others. Some are good for baking, some are good for apple sauce, cider, apple deserts, and just plain good to bite into. Each brings their own special qualities and attributes to the table. I don't think I've ever heard anyone say they hated one kind of apple over another. Each one has something to contribute.

I think the apples have it over us humans, don't you? There may be many different kinds of people in the world, of different colors, different ethnic origins, and different sexes, each with their own special qualities. Some are gifted in the arts, some in science, some in building and engineering, some in leadership, and some called by God. None is better than the other. Everyone has a place at the table If the apples can figure it out, so can we. 

And so it is.

 

The Dog Days of Summer

"The term dog days of summer refers to the period of hot and humid weather in the summer, traditionally from July 3rd to August 11th. This period is associated with the rising of the dog star, Sirus, in conjunction with the sun."

Wikipedia

Good old Wikipedia might want to update the definition above to extend from before July 3rd to way after August 11th, at least where this summer is concerned!

I was at the check out in Walmart one day recently (no, not the self-checkout, a real, living person trying to earn a real, living wage) and the older woman checking me out said that she had lived in this area all of her life and couldn't remember a summer that started out so hot, so early, and is still going strong. My poor little garden is taking quite a hit as well. Some things I planted never got beyond tiny shoots before the 105 degree heat indexes did them in. The herbs are hanging in there as well as the tiny cherry tomatoes, but the marigolds are all but done. Only the petunias are thriving which makes me wonder if they didn't originate down south!

We can blame it on climate change or any number of things, but it occurred to me that, depending on who you talk to, there is always something to criticize about winter as well as summer. In the winter it's too cold and we wail, "when will spring get here?" In the summer we complain about the heat and long for Autumn (I am definitely in that category). I've never heard anyone complain about spring unless it's about too much rain but I'm sure there's someone out there who does. And who could possibly complain about Autumn? Obviously someone who is color blind!

The point of all this is that maybe instead of looking for things to complain about the weather, or blaming everyone but ourselves for climate change, maybe our time would be better spent looking for the good in each season, both in the weather and in the seasons of our lives, and see where we can make things better. If it's too hot for you outside, stay inside and curl up with a good book, touch base with friends and family, or take up a hobby. If it's too cold, the same holds true. If we're in a season of our lives that seems dead and dormant, dig a little deeper and find out what would make you blossom again, then go and do that. If you can't travel the world, travel virtually. If you can't cook, turn on YouTube and play. If you're lonely, learn to Face Time and Zoom, join a book club, volunteer somewhere. As for climate change, working at reducing our carbon footprint and supporting businesses that do is the best advice. 

It doesn't matter what season we're in. There's always a way to plant new seeds, water them well, and grow something beautiful!

And so it is. 

A Flower, A Weed, Or An Opinion?

 

Welcome to July and my first outdoor garden in many years. To say I am excited would be an understatement!  At first glance it's not much to look at. I went for container gardening rather than in-ground because of expected construction in the yard this summer. To that end I just arranged some pots, put in what I most wanted to grow, and tried to make it look pretty knowing I might have to move it. So far I have cherry tomatoes, two kinds of lettuce, basil, rosemary, spearmint, marigolds, and petunias. The wooden bear is a gift from my sister that I've had since my first big garden 30 years ago ... he held up well! The rest is just window dressing. What I like most about container gardening is not having to worry so much about weeds. Then again, I've always thought that weeds get a bad rap in the gardening world, much like some people.

I once heard a very famous English gardener, Rosemary Very, say that weeds were just plants growing where you didn't want them growing. They weren't inherently good or bad, just taking up a space you wanted for something else. Dandelions probably have the worst reputation and is the reason those horrible weed killers like Round Up were invented. In reality, dandelions are perfectly healthy plants and beneficial to wild life. They are the first source of food for bees in the spring, their roots make medicinal teas, and their petals can be eaten. Yet someone decided that poisoning the soil and ground water was more beneficial so they could grow lovely but useless lawns. The poor dandelion lives or dies by the opinion of others. 

Sadly, that's the way a lot of people are treated as well, especially these days. Whether someone is useful or not, good or bad, welcome or not, is not based on who they are or what they do but on what others decide about them. The folks who pick your produce in the fields are just as entitled to live and grow as you are. The ones who run your favorite ethnic restaurants are just as talented in the kitchen and worthy of praise as a Five-Star chef

Mother Nature must have created dandelions for a reason. Maybe before we form an opinion based on the prejudices of others, we'd be better off getting to know more about them for ourselves. Just like discovering a new friend where you'd least expect to, you might just discover that what once was a weed turns out to be a valuable addition to your life.

And so it is. 

The Gift of Dirty Hands

The crazy, unpredictable month of May is finally behind us here in the northeast. On any given day you could pick from a selection of seasons all happening in the stretch of one week: winter, fall, summer. Spring only showed up for a few days here and there. We even had a frost advisory out for the overnight from May 31st to June 1st!

But now, thank heaven, real spring is upon us and I can finally get out and do what I've been dreaming of since I moved in with my daughter and her family last October ... garden! I don't mean indoor gardening on windowsills and under grow lights. I mean real, get-dirty gardening. My original plans to create some raised beds had to be postponed because of upcoming construction that will be taking place over the summer in the yard which includes ripping down an old shed, building another one at the other side of the yard, and extending the cement patio. What I created instead was a tiny container garden. This will allow me to move the pots if they get in the way of the construction and still be able to finally garden outside where things were intended to grow.

The first few days were taken up with laying out the garden fabric, putting down mulch and putting up a small fence to keep the family dog from investigating what Grandma was doing. Then I pulled out some of my old planters that my daughter had been storing in her shed for me for years. This included a little metal tricycle with baskets to hold pots, a hanging basket, and my sweet wooden garden bear that my sister gave me years ago when I  moved up to these parts 34 years ago and started my first garden. Then the fun really began.

Feeling my hands in the dirt for the first time in years felt like a gift from God. I only had my new gardening gloves, a gift from my great-grandson this Christmas, on for a few minutes. I had to take them off. I had to feel the soil clumping between my fingers, had to see it crawl under my fingernails, had to smell that rich, loamy smell up close. I had to push my seedlings and plugs in and mound the dirt around them with my bare hands. It didn't take long in that precious, present moment to send waves of joy, contentment, and gratitude flowing through me.

Edna St. Vincent Millay, one of my favorite poets, has a line in her epic poem, "Renascence" which says:

"God, I can push the grass apart

And lay my finger on They heart."

That's what I feel when I am gardening, when the soil in my hand feels like touching Mother Nature herself. I feel as if God is right there with me, directing me, guiding me. When I am participating in nature, I am in the presence of All That Is. What more could I possibly want.

It is still rough around the edges. I have two cherry tomato plants, some basil, rosemary, spearmint (love it in my ice tea in the summer), petunias, marigolds, and some lettuce seeds planted in a window box on the ground. Now I need to polish it up and see if I can't wedge a few more pots in here and there. I want to give it more of a cottage garden look eventually, but it's all mine and I couldn't be happier. 

How many people can say that they have something in their lives that brings them this kind of joy? How many people stop chasing their dreams, be they large or tiny, because they doubt themselves? 

"Move confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined."

Henry David Thoreau

I dreamed of a tiny house ... I have one (a second floor one, but still, a tiny house). I dreamed of gardening outside in a real garden again. I have one. The dirt under my fingernails isn't a nuisance, it's a blessing, a sign from above that all is well in my world. Indeed, it is!

Peace and blessings. 

April Showers Bring .... Mud Season!

The photo above is my new indoor plant stand in my new tiny house-type apartment. I have been really looking forward to having a yard to grow things in this year, but getting anything started at this time of the year in this neck of the woods is iffy at best. It is officially Mud Season. April showers here go on for days and weeks, with a few days here and there of sunshine and warmer daytime temps. An overnight cold snap or frost is not unheard of. So I continue to play indoors for now, pruning and re-potting my plants, trimming my bamboo plant that has taken off like wildfire (it must love it's new home), and praying every day that I will soon be able to get outside and do some real gardening.

I also have to confess to being jealous that some people I know are posting pictures of their daffodils and crocus already coming up. They live outside of town where there is more light and they have good, amended soil. No one has really gardened around here for years and the soil is thick, wet, and not very appealing.

Sometimes we have to take stock of where we are, what works and what doesn't, and act accordingly. When I had to leave my old garden out in the country, I had to learn to master container gardening on a screened-in porch which came out better than I could have dreamed. Then I moved into a studio apartment and learned to garden with grow-lights. Now I have a real garden to play in, but have to wait until Mother Nature decides that Mud Season is over and real Spring can finally arrive. Until then, I have to learn to be patient, read up on amending thick, clay soil, and look seriously at raised beds as an alternative. What works, what doesn't, and how can I find a way to grow successfully like my bamboo plant. If it can find a way to thrive, so can I. 

And so it is.

 

Mother Nature's Choir

 

Spring is finally here (at least according to the calendar)! The days are getting warmer, and more of then are filled with sunshine. The signs of spring are starting to pop up outdoors with the first shoots of the snowdrops pushing through the soil, and the daffodils struggling to do the same. The stores are filled with Easter candy and fluffy bunnies. Everywhere you look there is something that shouts, "spring is here."

There is another sign of spring that speaks to my heart. It is waking up in the morning and, finally, hearing birdsong. The only birds I hear over the winter in these parts are the crows and the few geese that live on a nearby farm that don't migrate. The first morning I hear the sweet song of the robins, or the notes of the chickadees, or the chirps of the sparrows, I know for sure that spring has indeed arrived. 

Of all the magical, amazing ways Mother Nature has blessed us, there is something about her beloved choir of birds that cannot fail to lift our hearts. Here are what look to us like delicate, tiny creatures who endure all kinds of weather living outside, not to mention predators always looking for a meal, and yet they can still sit on a branch and gift us with their songs. Whenever I hear a bird singing, it reminds me to be grateful for my life and all the blessings it contains. I do not have to live outside in bad weather; I have a roof over my head and a warm place to sleep. I do not have to worry about being someone's meal; I am fed by Mother Earth. I am reminded of how grateful I am every time I hear those beautiful sounds. I only wish I could speak in bird language so I could thank them, too.

Next time you hear birds singing, stop for a moment and give thanks for all your blessings, and for the Choir Master Herself that taught them how to sing. 

And so it is. 

Dreaming Of Snowdrops

I'm pretty sure most of us would agree that this winter has been beyond brutal. The continued arctic cold, snow storms and ice have left us wondering if we'll ever see spring again. So I've decided to put my focus on all things spring. I'm watching gardening videos, rooting new plants from old cuttings, reading my gardening magazines, and letting a YouTube video of spring meadows and the sound of birdsong play in the background as I go about my day indoors where it's warm. Hey, a girl can dream.

One of the things I dream about are the first flowers of spring. Most people would list things like daffodils and crocuses, and they would be right. However, for me the first flowers of spring have always been the snowdrops. In the Northern Hemisphere they may flower in late winter before the vernal equinox. They are hardy little plants and the sight of them pushing courageously through the snow to spread the hope that spring is really on its way fills my heart with joy. When I lived out in that small country village many years ago and winter could, and often did, stretch its arms into April, it was the arrival of the snowdrops outside my door fighting to hold their dainty little heads up that kept me going. I took it as a message from Mother Nature that winter doesn't last forever and we just have to keep our own heads up and look to the sun.

I often think that my greatest lessons in life have come from nature, from the plants, trees, and animals. If a tiny little bird can keep spreading its wings in the cold, and a gentle little plant can push its way up through the snow, who are we to complain? We just have to keep the boots and the shovel handy for a while longer ... and start combing through those seed catalogs with visions of green in our hearts.

And so it is 

The Long Sleep of Winter

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

but I have promises to keep,

and miles to go before I sleep,

and miles to go before I sleep."

Robert Frost

It is said that a bear hibernates in winter when food and water are scarce. By hibernating, they conserve their energy and strength so that they can put off having to search for food. I think I'd be okay with that. I'm all for conserving my energy and strength. I'm not so sure about the not eating part, though. But, seriously, what else is there to do in winter?

I like to think of winter as a time for my mind to hibernate. I like to give it a rest from all the planning, all the "shoulds," and let it just dream. I read lots and lots, both fiction and non-fiction. While I'm not one for New Year's Resolutions (which would probably all be broken by now anyway), I do like to set myself a subject to study, or something new to learn. Sometimes it's something physical like the time I took on the task of learning how to knit socks. Other times it's mental or spiritual, like reading books on forgiveness, patience, or discovering what I'm passionate about. On those few and special days when the sun is shinning, I like to curl up with my blanket and tea, and watch how the sunlight turns the snow into mounds of glittering diamonds. For all that people think there isn't anything to look at in winter, I can find beauty in the smallest things if I look hard enough, like the blue jay that creeps up on to my daughter's front porch to steal some of the dry cat food she puts out for the neighborhood strays. Or the call of a cardinal trying to find it's mate.  There is something to learn, and something to see everywhere if we just take the time to look.

Today the sun is shinning brightly under a big, blue sky. It is a whole 20 degrees and the forecast is for 35 later today. After days of below zero temps and wind chills, this sounds like heaven. Perhaps I'll take myself outside to see what I can see, and learn what I can learn ... and be thankful for the gift of this time to do both.

And so it is. 

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

 

The tree is up, the lights are lit, the carols are playing on the radio, and there is even a dusting of snow on the ground. Yep, Christmas season is here!

It seems like only yesterday we were still running around in t-shirts wondering if summer would ever turn into fall. Now it's ugly sweaters, warm hats and mittens. The stores have been filled with decorations and sales since Halloween. It seems like the older I get, the faster time flies. Either that, or the stores are trying to beat the competition by being the first to put up Christmas displays ... in October!

As for me, I still love my old fashioned Christmas. I haven't been to a Black Friday sale in years. I like to take my time, find that perfect gift for each person, and kick back with hot chocolate while watching "It's A Wonderful Life," or, "Charlie Brown's Christmas." What's the rush? The meaning of Christmas is lost in the hustle, bustle, and frenzy of "getting it all done." What's happened to "peace on earth, good will towards men?" Or, "For unto us a child is born?" It's not about the presents under the tree. It's about the babe in the manger. It's about family, friends, warmth, love. It's about hope.

This Christmas my wish for all of you are all those things: love, peace and hope. Let the magic of Christmas back in. It may be the best Christmas gift you'll ever receive.

Peace and blessings.

P.S. If you're in the mood for a heartwarming Christmas story, check out my new book, "The Christmas Cardinal," Book Four in the Maplewood Farm Series. Available in Kindle or paperback on Amazon. It's short, sweet, and filled with Christmas magic. Merry Christmas.

A Time To Reap

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

"A time to sow and a time to reap. A time to kill and a time to heal. A time to tear down and a time to build up. A time to cry and a time to laugh."

     The time has finally come. After all that planting, weeding, watering, and tending, the crops are ready. Farmers and backyard garden enthusiasts are bringing in the harvest. The squashes and pumpkins add fall-like colors to the stalls at the outdoor markets, the apples are bright and juicy, and the desire to create wonderful things with these treasures looms large. There is canning, preserving, cooking and freezing to be done to carry us through the long, cold days of winter when we dream of spring and starting the process all over again. We remember what worked and what didn't, what bore fruit and what didn't, and we take what we've learned into the next planting season a little older and a little wiser.

     The older I get, the more I like to think back on my life experiences in the same way. I can remember seeds I sowed for home, family, career, and dreams galore, some of which brought great gifts, and some which didn't make it. Some took longer than others, while some had to be replanted in a better place, in healthier soil, and tended with more love and attention. Some took decades. Today, as I sit here looking out of the windows of my new little home at the glorious leaves still gracing our trees, I can honestly say that I am wiser for having had those experiences. The seeds that succeeded were the ones I was meant to harvest. Those that didn't were never mine to begin with. I was just trying to grow into what others expected me to be. It might have taken over 40 years to find the right soil, in the right place, to plant my seeds in, but it was well worth the wait. I told my mother when I was five years old that I was going to be a writer. Sixty years later those seeds finally took hold and brought forth fruit. Am I sorry it took so long? Sure. Am I still happy anyway? You bet. Better late than never. Some seeds, like dreams, take a little longer to harvest. 

And so it is.