It seems I write about gardening quite a bit in this space. Not that I’m an expert, but I just enjoy getting dirt under my fingernails, and seeing immediate results. Besides, don’t you think we can learn a lot about life while kneeling? On so many levels!
This time of year is when I’m mostly moving old stuff out of the way so the new stuff can emerge. My iris bulbs need to feel the sunshine to encourage them to grow and display their beautiful potential. So, with the “help” of my very friendly Corgi, I pulled out all the old dead leaves, removed some overly enthusiastic clover, and tried to make room for the lovely green stalks that will soon appear. My pansies still look bright and cheerful. They loved the cold weather. By snapping off some dead blooms they’ll last a little longer before the heat of summer discourages them.
There is pleasure in removing un-necessary stuff, in order to emphasize the beauty in your life. After only a few hours of bending, stretching and pushing hair out of your eyes, you can stand back and see that all is well, ready for the next chapter of Flower Bed 101. That is, if you haven’t taken on more than you can handle.
I’ve heard that some personality types have trouble with this process. There’s been talk lately about collectors and hoarders. I don’t think I’m a collector. Purchase and protect many items that are so valuable you can’t even open the packages? That’s not me. Hoarders tend to keep useless items, and reject efforts to organize or purge anything. No, I think I’m more like a “maybe-I’ll-use-it-againer.” Hard to let go of something that may come in handy. My husband has a very sensible time limited approach to these things. But, just the other day, I made a really cute card with some stickers I had stashed away in my scrapbooking drawer. See, one never knows! To return to the gardening theme, I do have some remnants of last year’s flowers tucked away on the side of the house. What if they “volunteer” to bloom again? I might need those plastic pots some time. Okay, maybe I do have hoarding tendencies after all.
It’s so much easier if you have limited your scope, and are only trying to tend to your own patch of weeds. When we were young, we seemed to be all about expanding our territory. More, bigger, prettier, better than anyone else’s were the watchwords. As we matured, though, we began to recognize that our idea of happiness and beauty might not match another person’s exactly. We became comfortable and content, and gradually began to de-emphasize some things that just didn’t seem important. Not that we don’t enjoy our neighbor’s front yard display. We just prefer our own.
So, we set about taking care of what we have. We try our best to learn all we can, and use the recommended methods to maintain and improve. Sometimes, regardless of how careful we are, unexpected menaces creep in. Where they actually originate is not that important. They could come in with the wind, or be carried by a wayward bird. The bottom line is, if they are threatening the things we treasure, we want them gone. So, we call in experts, and trust their advice. We weigh their recommendations, and might even ask for a second opinion. But once we’ve determined our course, we forge ahead, trusting that with God’s help, things will turn out for the best.
Yes, thinning, prioritizing, purging are all worthwhile activities. It’s a good feeling to be able to stand back, take a look and say, “It may be a mess, but it’s my mess.” So, bring on the weeds. We’ve been told we’ll never get more than we can handle, and I’m trusting in that promise.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
Bloom Where you Are Planted
How did you get where you are today? No, I’m not looking for your “self-made man” stories here. I don’t want to hear about the day you were discovered at the corner drug-store and became a star. I’m thinking more about the myriad of stories in your family’s past that caused a change in location, bringing new opportunities, and how you’ve made the best of them.
This is one of my Mom’s favorite angles when she researches family history. Why did a family move from Kentucky to California? Just look at the future generations it affected. In our family’s case, if my great grandmother had not moved herself and two small children that incredible distance to live near a brother who had already settled there, my grandfather and grandmother would never have met. My grandmother was there because her parents, both of German descent, had retired from the military at the Presidio. So, how in the world did I end up in Arkansas? That takes several more stories.
Perhaps even more telling, though, is what happens next. How do the children adapt and adjust when they are uprooted and replanted?
It must have been a huge culture shock for my Mom when she moved from the San Francisco bay area as a teenager to a farm in South Central Kansas. But, she says she loved the sunshine, and working outdoors. At the small town school she attended, she flourished, and was elected President of the Student Body before she graduated. No small feat for a girl in post WWII America.
In my job with the State of Arkansas, I’ve been privileged to work with people from Asia, South Africa, Eastern Europe. How difficult it must be to adapt to a country with strange customs, and a language that makes very little sense. Remarkably, many of these people speak better English than I do, though you must listen carefully at times to communicate well.
Once, my friend Kristina had a new chair in her office with the tag still attached. As I helped her remove it, I introduced her to Minnie Pearl, a legendary American icon remembered for the price tags that dangled from her hats. Imagine how strange that story must be to someone who’s never seen the Grand Ole Opry. But, there’s another example of someone who thrived in her environment. Miss Minnie was a great lady, both onstage, with her hilarious antics, and off, where Sarah Cannon was an incredible force for good in the Nashville community.
Sometimes, it’s not the choices our family makes, but our own that change our situation. When I was a little girl, I had two dreams. One was of a happy family with a mommy, daddy, and two or three kids. The other was to write stories. Very early, I found out that writing stories might not pay much, so I aimed at being a teacher and writing stories on the side. Little did I know that the happy family dream would come first, putting the teaching and writing goals on hold. But, today, I have three kids and four really grand kids, and I’m still in love with their really grand daddy. At work, I teach people to use computers, and the writing? … It’s coming along. It took a little while, and a much different route than I had anticipated, but hey, I’m blooming in my own way.
You still want to hear how our family tree made it from Kansas to Arkansas, and now has branches in Texas and Florida? Good. That means I still have stories to write. As springtime comes to the Ouachitas, enjoy your family gardens, wherever they may be planted.
This is one of my Mom’s favorite angles when she researches family history. Why did a family move from Kentucky to California? Just look at the future generations it affected. In our family’s case, if my great grandmother had not moved herself and two small children that incredible distance to live near a brother who had already settled there, my grandfather and grandmother would never have met. My grandmother was there because her parents, both of German descent, had retired from the military at the Presidio. So, how in the world did I end up in Arkansas? That takes several more stories.
Perhaps even more telling, though, is what happens next. How do the children adapt and adjust when they are uprooted and replanted?
It must have been a huge culture shock for my Mom when she moved from the San Francisco bay area as a teenager to a farm in South Central Kansas. But, she says she loved the sunshine, and working outdoors. At the small town school she attended, she flourished, and was elected President of the Student Body before she graduated. No small feat for a girl in post WWII America.
In my job with the State of Arkansas, I’ve been privileged to work with people from Asia, South Africa, Eastern Europe. How difficult it must be to adapt to a country with strange customs, and a language that makes very little sense. Remarkably, many of these people speak better English than I do, though you must listen carefully at times to communicate well.
Once, my friend Kristina had a new chair in her office with the tag still attached. As I helped her remove it, I introduced her to Minnie Pearl, a legendary American icon remembered for the price tags that dangled from her hats. Imagine how strange that story must be to someone who’s never seen the Grand Ole Opry. But, there’s another example of someone who thrived in her environment. Miss Minnie was a great lady, both onstage, with her hilarious antics, and off, where Sarah Cannon was an incredible force for good in the Nashville community.
Sometimes, it’s not the choices our family makes, but our own that change our situation. When I was a little girl, I had two dreams. One was of a happy family with a mommy, daddy, and two or three kids. The other was to write stories. Very early, I found out that writing stories might not pay much, so I aimed at being a teacher and writing stories on the side. Little did I know that the happy family dream would come first, putting the teaching and writing goals on hold. But, today, I have three kids and four really grand kids, and I’m still in love with their really grand daddy. At work, I teach people to use computers, and the writing? … It’s coming along. It took a little while, and a much different route than I had anticipated, but hey, I’m blooming in my own way.
You still want to hear how our family tree made it from Kansas to Arkansas, and now has branches in Texas and Florida? Good. That means I still have stories to write. As springtime comes to the Ouachitas, enjoy your family gardens, wherever they may be planted.
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