Thursday, May 27, 2010

Global Blooming


If you were ever curious about global warming, all you would have to do is look in my front yard.  Although I don't have any polar bears floating by on rapidly melting ice floes, I have flowers and trees far ahead of their bloom time; so much so that I wonder if there will be anything left come August.

Trees that didn't leaf out until May were going great-gusto in early April.  The columbines and lilacs are finishing up and the peonies and roses have geared up to take over the show.  Last night as I was cleaning out flower beds I noticed  one over-achieving black-eyed Susan that was thinking about blooming.  In May.  In Michigan.

I'm always very grateful for the pretty, yet a little worried at the accelerated time-frame.  Maybe if we all decided to take a walk instead of taking a drive, we could slow down Mother Nature's clock and stop and smell the roses at the same time.  It would be a win-win situation all the way around, I think.




"Look at the trees, look at the birds, look at the clouds, look at the stars...
and if you have eyes you will be able to see that the whole existence is joyful.
Everything is simply happy.  Trees are happy for no reason;
they are not going to become prime ministers or presidents 
and they are not going to become rich and they will never have any bank balance.
Look at the flowers -- for no reason.
It is simply unbelievable how happy flowers are."  ~~Osho



"Some people worry that artificial intelligence will make us feel inferior,
but then, anybody in his right mind should have an inferiority complex
every time he looks at a flower."  ~~Alan C. Kay



"Nobody sees a flower, really; it is so small.  
We haven't time, and to see takes time --
like to have a friend takes time." ~~Georgia O'Keeffe


Mila, the garden supervisor.

"The problem with cats is they get the exact same look on their face
whether they see a moth or an axe-murderer."  ~~Paula Poundstone


Global Blooming


If you were ever curious about global warming, all you would have to do is look in my front yard.  Although I don't have any polar bears floating by on rapidly melting ice floes, I have flowers and trees far ahead of their bloom time; so much so that I wonder if there will be anything left come August.

Trees that didn't leaf out until May were going great-gusto in early April.  The columbines and lilacs are finishing up and the peonies and roses have geared up to take over the show.  Last night as I was cleaning out flower beds I noticed  one over-achieving black-eyed Susan that was thinking about blooming.  In May.  In Michigan.

I'm always very grateful for the pretty, yet a little worried at the accelerated time-frame.  Maybe if we all decided to take a walk instead of taking a drive, we could slow down Mother Nature's clock and stop and smell the roses at the same time.  It would be a win-win situation all the way around, I think.


"Look at the trees, look at the birds, look at the clouds, look at the stars...
and if you have eyes you will be able to see that the whole existence is joyful.
Everything is simply happy.  Trees are happy for no reason;
they are not going to become prime ministers or presidents 
and they are not going to become rich and they will never have any bank balance.
Look at the flowers -- for no reason.
It is simply unbelievable how happy flowers are."  ~~Osho



"Some people worry that artificial intelligence will make us feel inferior,
but then, anybody in his right mind should have an inferiority complex
every time he looks at a flower."  ~~Alan C. Kay



"Nobody sees a flower, really; it is so small.  
We haven't time, and to see takes time --
like to have a friend takes time." ~~Georgia O'Keeffe


Mila, the garden supervisor.

"The problem with cats is they get the exact same look on their face
whether they see a moth or an axe-murderer."  ~~Paula Poundstone


Friday, May 21, 2010

The Great 48


One of my birthday cards this year had Fisher-Price 
"little people" on the front, and it said,
"I'm 'this many' years old."

Another year has come and gone and today marks year number 48.  It's not a "milestone" birthday, but there are many days when I'm just as happy to be anything, as long as it isn't past-tense.  This morning, as I was walking to the car, TeenTuna asked me how old I was, and without thinking, I answered her.  She said, "So, you're not 27 anymore?"  I said I guessed not, and chalked up my truthful answer to a combination not caring and the time of day, which was a tender 6:15 am.

You'll notice I didn't say anything about growing up or being mature.


To this day, I still sometimes wonder when I'll feel like a grown-up.  My age tells me I'm a legal adult, my teenager tells me I'm a parent, and my monthly bills tell me I'm obligated to pay what I owe.  All of those things, individually and combined, tell me that I'm a grown-up.  I accept it, but I don't feel it.

Oh sure, I can play the part, especially when it comes to parenting.  I know I must be responsible, protective, authoritative, and yes, even dictatorial.  ESPECIALLY DICTATORIAL (caps-lock, bold, leaned-over).  I make the rules, I enforce the rules, and I reward and punish accordingly. Based on that alone, you'd think I'd feel like a grown-up.  But I don't.


In all honestly, I'm not exactly losing sleep over my apparent deficiency, and I'm guessing that nobody else notices it (or cares) besides me.  But I do wonder, am I alone out here?  Did everyone my age progress emotionally, physically and spiritually to the Kingdom of Middle Age, while I was out playing on the swings?

Sometimes I envy those who knew what they wanted to be when they grew up, and then went out and did it.  Or who can name a favorite book, or movie, or color, or song.  It seems so decisive.  It seems so grown-up.  My dilemma is that I want to learn everything and do everything and be everything and choose everything.  That sounds like I'm flaky and unable to commit.

But really, the way I prefer to spin it, is that I'm decidedly non-decisive.  Plans are important and goals are a good thing, but I prefer broad horizons to narrow channels.  After 48 years I've learned there are so many more things for me to learn, books to read, songs to sing, flowers to plant, foods to try, and places to travel.  As an rational, realistic grown-up, I know I won't get to them all.  But the child inside me is really excited about the journey.

Here's to 48 more years of possibilities.
Ready. Set. Wander.


The Great 48


One of my birthday cards this year had Fisher-Price 
"little people" on the front, and it said,
"I'm 'this many' years old."

Another year has come and gone and today marks year number 48.  It's not a "milestone" birthday, but there are many days when I'm just as happy to be anything, as long as it isn't past-tense.  This morning, as I was walking to the car, TeenTuna asked me how old I was, and without thinking, I answered her.  She said, "So, you're not 27 anymore?"  I said I guessed not, and chalked up my truthful answer to a combination not caring and the time of day, which was a tender 6:15 am.

You'll notice I didn't say anything about growing up or being mature.


To this day, I still sometimes wonder when I'll feel like a grown-up.  My age tells me I'm a legal adult, my teenager tells me I'm a parent, and my monthly bills tell me I'm obligated to pay what I owe.  All of those things, individually and combined, tell me that I'm a grown-up.  I accept it, but I don't feel it.

Oh sure, I can play the part, especially when it comes to parenting.  I know I must be responsible, protective, authoritative, and yes, even dictatorial.  ESPECIALLY DICTATORIAL (caps-lock, bold, leaned-over).  I make the rules, I enforce the rules, and I reward and punish accordingly. Based on that alone, you'd think I'd feel like a grown-up.  But I don't.


In all honestly, I'm not exactly losing sleep over my apparent deficiency, and I'm guessing that nobody else notices it (or cares) besides me.  But I do wonder, am I alone out here?  Did everyone my age progress emotionally, physically and spiritually to the Kingdom of Middle Age, while I was out playing on the swings?

Sometimes I envy those who knew what they wanted to be when they grew up, and then went out and did it.  Or who can name a favorite book, or movie, or color, or song.  It seems so decisive.  It seems so grown-up.  My dilemma is that I want to learn everything and do everything and be everything and choose everything.  That sounds like I'm flaky and unable to commit.

But really, the way I prefer to spin it, is that I'm decidedly non-decisive.  Plans are important and goals are a good thing, but I prefer broad horizons to narrow channels.  After 48 years I've learned there are so many more things for me to learn, books to read, songs to sing, flowers to plant, foods to try, and places to travel.  As an rational, realistic grown-up, I know I won't get to them all.  But the child inside me is really excited about the journey.

Here's to 48 more years of possibilities.
Ready. Set. Wander.


Thursday, May 20, 2010

Garden Party

Now that the snows have melted and the rains have stopped, it's been a good time to get the old hands dirty and work outside.  To tend to a garden is such a romantic notion: sitting quietly in the grass with a big floppy hat, a small metal bucket that holds matching garden tools and a well-loved pair of gloves.  Meanwhile the bees visit flower after flower and the butterflies flitter-flutter merrily in the sunshine.

My gardening experience is vastly different.  I garden with whatever beat up gloves I can find, no hat (hat hair), skunky tennis shoes and a shovel.  There's nothing genteel about it.  It's more like commando gardening.



"You can bury a lot of troubles digging in the dirt."  

Small, picky gardening is not for me.  I admire the weeds that so skillfully intertwine themselves around individual plant stems.  But I just don't have time to untangle each and every one, so sometimes the baby gets thrown out with the bath water, horticulturally speaking.  Luckily, GramTuna enjoys hunting down weeds stem by stem and root by root, so I pick up my shovel and walk to the big patches of mess, leaving the intricate work to her.

This patch has shovel written all over it.






"Earth laughs in flower."-- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Whether you are tending to- or battling with- a garden, they are very versatile and provide something for everybody.  Do you like mysteries?  Gardening is for you.  Flowers show up in the strangest places.  Take this little guy.  I know sometimes we are pressed for space, but I am quite certain we did NOT plant anything in a window well.  Will we move it?  Oh probably.  Well, maybe.  It doesn't look half bad, though, does it?

Sometimes flowers pick themselves up and walk somewhere else, sometimes they invite a bunch of their friends over for an extended stay.  Sometimes they just up and leave, without ever saying goodbye.  On the one hand, it's best not to get too attached, but then again, something else might show up in its place, or you can buy another one to replace it.  But be warned:  stubbornness in gardening will not always be rewarded.  After three or four or ten tries, if the plant isn't going to grow, it's time to move on.  Stupid Foxgloves.





"A weed is only a misplaced plant."

And then, there are weeds.  Oh, the weeds.  The weeds, everywhere the weeds.  The dandelions, the thistles, the Creeping Charlie.  The weeds you pulled yesterday, root and all, that show up a few days later.  The weeds that poke you, the weeds that blow their seeds all over kingdom come, the weeds that just wait for you to turn your back and then SPROING!  You see, sentimental weed quote or not, weeds actually try to impress you.  Maybe it is their stealth or their cunningness.  Maybe it is a pretty flower waving above stems of killer prickers.  Maybe it is their killer cuteness as they are clutched in the chubby hands of a three-year old who wants to pick flowers for mommy.

OK--that is killer cute and nobody can hate on dandelions in the chubby hands of a three-year old who wants to pick flowers for mommy.  But weeds, my shovel and I say you're still annoying.





Flowers are an army of amazingness.  They come in an infinite number of colors and shapes and sizes and there is always something new to add to the family.  If you plan it right, something will be blooming all the time, beginning with the earliest crocuses peeking out from the melting snow.  Although the crocus, daffodils and tulips have come and gone, we are full of later spring flowers.


Trillium

Columbine



Azalea

Forget-me-nots


Commando gardening may be a bit brutal, but the results are pretty damn cool.  And who knows, once my shovel and I put some hurt on the more unruly parts of the garden, we'll have even more friends to sit and enjoy as the bees and butterflies frolic.

Maybe I'll even buy a floppy hat.

As if.




Garden Party

Now that the snows have melted and the rains have stopped, it's been a good time to get the old hands dirty and work outside.  To tend to a garden is such a romantic notion: sitting quietly in the grass with a big floppy hat, a small metal bucket that holds matching garden tools and a well-loved pair of gloves.  Meanwhile the bees visit flower after flower and the butterflies flitter-flutter merrily in the sunshine.

My gardening experience is vastly different.  I garden with whatever beat up gloves I can find, no hat (hat hair), skunky tennis shoes and a shovel.  There's nothing genteel about it.  It's more like commando gardening.



"You can bury a lot of troubles digging in the dirt."  

Small, picky gardening is not for me.  I admire the weeds that so skillfully intertwine themselves around individual plant stems.  But I just don't have time to untangle each and every one, so sometimes the baby gets thrown out with the bath water, horticulturally speaking.  Luckily, GramTuna enjoys hunting down weeds stem by stem and root by root, so I pick up my shovel and walk to the big patches of mess, leaving the intricate work to her.

This patch has shovel written all over it.






"Earth laughs in flower."-- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Whether you are tending to- or battling with- a garden, they are very versatile and provide something for everybody.  Do you like mysteries?  Gardening is for you.  Flowers show up in the strangest places.  Take this little guy.  I know sometimes we are pressed for space, but I am quite certain we did NOT plant anything in a window well.  Will we move it?  Oh probably.  Well, maybe.  It doesn't look half bad, though, does it?

Sometimes flowers pick themselves up and walk somewhere else, sometimes they invite a bunch of their friends over for an extended stay.  Sometimes they just up and leave, without ever saying goodbye.  On the one hand, it's best not to get too attached, but then again, something else might show up in its place, or you can buy another one to replace it.  But be warned:  stubbornness in gardening will not always be rewarded.  After three or four or ten tries, if the plant isn't going to grow, it's time to move on.  Stupid Foxgloves.





"A weed is only a misplaced plant."

And then, there are weeds.  Oh, the weeds.  The weeds, everywhere the weeds.  The dandelions, the thistles, the Creeping Charlie.  The weeds you pulled yesterday, root and all, that show up a few days later.  The weeds that poke you, the weeds that blow their seeds all over kingdom come, the weeds that just wait for you to turn your back and then SPROING!  You see, sentimental weed quote or not, weeds actually try to impress you.  Maybe it is their stealth or their cunningness.  Maybe it is a pretty flower waving above stems of killer prickers.  Maybe it is their killer cuteness as they are clutched in the chubby hands of a three-year old who wants to pick flowers for mommy.

OK--that is killer cute and nobody can hate on dandelions in the chubby hands of a three-year old who wants to pick flowers for mommy.  But weeds, my shovel and I say you're still annoying.





Flowers are an army of amazingness.  They come in an infinite number of colors and shapes and sizes and there is always something new to add to the family.  If you plan it right, something will be blooming all the time, beginning with the earliest crocuses peeking out from the melting snow.  Although the crocus, daffodils and tulips have come and gone, we are full of later spring flowers.


Trillium

Columbine



Azalea

Forget-me-nots


Commando gardening may be a bit brutal, but the results are pretty damn cool.  And who knows, once my shovel and I put some hurt on the more unruly parts of the garden, we'll have even more friends to sit and enjoy as the bees and butterflies frolic.

Maybe I'll even buy a floppy hat.

As if.




Monday, May 17, 2010

Eating Rainbows and Pooping Butterflies

On March 1st, I wrote:


Here's to a kinder, gentler March.  ReadySetGO.




Obviously I was high on Unicorn dust and fairy farts.


Eating Rainbows and Pooping Butterflies

On March 1st, I wrote:


Here's to a kinder, gentler March.  ReadySetGO.




Obviously I was high on Unicorn dust and fairy farts.