Time To Get Down and Dirty

 

WP_20170410_001

This is what happens when you go to the garden center on a beautiful spring day.

I went in for a few ivy plants . . . as you can see I came away with much more. That is the risk you take when you visit the garden center on a beautiful spring day. Between the allure of the plants I also had time, it is Spring Break this week and day one was almost perfect.

I say almost because I started the day with a mammogram, but then I treated myself to a latte and then went to get my hair cut. On the way home I decided to pick up the ivy so I could replant the pots by my front door. Once there I had planned out my raised beds and my patio pots. So a car load later I made my way home.

I am on a deadline to finish book three and I diligently sat down and spilled about twelve-hundred words from my soul, before taking a gardening break. After an hour of mowing and playing in the dirt, I returned to write another thousand words before taking a pre-arranged conference call about an upcoming author’s panel I’m participating, in Greenville, South Carolina in May. Then I went back to the chapter and around a thousand words later, I was satisfied with Lizzie’s progress on her journey and I was drained of my creative juices. Another hour and a half in the garden and I feel charged again.

Charged and filthy dirty.  The only thing that could make this day better is if someone of the handsome and kind variety was whipping up dinner in the kitchen.  I love days like these when the ordinary things are enjoyed and savored. This is how I imagine the days will be when I move from teacher and writer to full-time writer.

There is something in the ancient part of my genes that responds to the garden. I don’t think my ancestors were city dwellers. I still yearn to be a genteel gardener whose gloves never get dirt on the inside and manages to still look presentable at the end of a session amongst the flowers. I blame Hollywood for this unattainable ideal. I’m happy to settle for dirt streaked limbs and face with my hair plastered against my head.

Gardening is life affirming. It stimulates the senses and inspires the artist within. I can hardly wait until I get to do it again tomorrow.

 

Cone of Uncertainty

 

wp_20161004_001

The hurricane’s cone of uncertainty

I am a veteran of hurricanes at this point in my life here in South Carolina, my first experience with Hurricane Hugo back in 1989. Each time we are threatened what causes me the most anxiety is the cone of uncertainty. I am by nature a long range planner. I like to know what is going to happen well in advance and I like to believe I have a modicum of control over events.

You can stop  laughing. I have learned that control of this life is an illusion or delusion depending on how cynical you are. Surprisingly, I truly began to understand that after teaching first graders for years, how we are flying around space on a rock as we travel around a burning ball of gasses.

I still like to plan, I begrudgingly admit those plans need to be flexible. As I have matured, I even handle the changes with a much better attitude than in my youth. Still, I  find a rise in my anxiety level as I adjust and adapt.

Even my writing career began because I was anxious about what I would do when my teaching career wrapped up in a decade. Now Four and a half years from winding down the teaching, I am growing more comfortable with the  transition.

The truth of the matter is we live in a cone of uncertainty all the time. We can plan a path, but at any time, it truly could veer to the left or the right, perhaps it could even u-turn. Whatever the course, if we have what truly matters as our resources: our integrity, our loved ones, our faith and our intelligence, then no matter what happens we will be just fine.

 

Oh, deer. . .

Scan_20160327 (2)

Me, in the 1970’s in deep conversation with a deer

 

For as long as I can remember I have always loved deer. I am sure Bambi cemented the idea that they are noble and intelligent creatures in my mind. I have also had an affinity for all of God’s creatures, the exception, reptiles. (Sorry, but I am fearful and just can’t find them cuddly, though I do like the little lizards and frogs and toads from a distance) from an early age.

So it is understandable that I still get excited when creatures like deer, birds and butterflies come to visit my garden. In fact my plant selection in the back, in part, has been to support the bees and the butterflies.  My backyard is fenced in, but I back onto woods, so I purposefully had the fence along the back low, to integrated the woods into my view. The deer love this. For them it is easy in and easy out.

I have had a regular doe for the past few years as a visitor.  I am not sure she is the same doe each time, but I like to think so.  I named her Genevieve and I fancy she represents the spirit of my Grandma Sawyer, who also liked to spy the deer from her windows. My two golden retrievers love her too. They never bark, but sit enraptured at the back door, noses pressed against the glass and tails wagging.  They would love to frolic with her, but she is not as keen on the idea.

In fact some mornings, as I am up before the crack of dawn, she is grazing and I have to put up the window and talk to her.  I say things like, “Good morning Genevieve, I need to let the dogs out. Can you come back later?”  She always pauses, calmly looking at me while I speak. Then she nods her head and with ease, walks over to the back fence and hops over.  The dogs of course race off to the fence hoping to glimpse her. This scenario has played out many times, so I don’t think it is a fanciful coincidence.

Sometimes we get so wrapped up in the human part of the world, we forget we share this planet with many other creatures. It is a humbling reminder to pause and appreciate the great web of life and ponder the fact we are just one part of it.  One of my favorite hymn’s has that line “All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small. All things wise and wonderful, the  Lord God made them all.” ( Cecil Frances Alexander).

So I urge you to appreciate all of the creatures that cross you path, honor and respect them as a fellow creature. There may be a bit of a Dr. Doolittle in you too.