Big Sprout has been talking more about her life. It's a wonderful thing. She is not a child that naturally talks about what happens during her day, so I am very much enjoying that she wants to share with me.
The other day, she was sharing with me that her friends at school like to get together and complain about their lives. Because, you know, the lives of 12 year olds are so incredibly hard. She laughed, and said:
"I feel bad, cuz I have nothing to contribute. My life is pretty great, ya know."
*sniff, sniff* I always worry that I am not able to give my Sprouts... enough. Enough attention, enough things, enough experiences, enough love. To hear my big baby girl say that she really likes her life was the most wonderful thing! I'm gonna hang on to that memory, and take it out when I'm beating myself up for not being SuperMom.
Love you, Big Sprout
Showing posts with label Magic Moments. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Magic Moments. Show all posts
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Saturday, January 01, 2011
Winter Peace
We sit together, Teacher and I, and watch out her dining room windows. At 100 years old, she has looked out these same windows at the same fields for 80 of those years. She never seems to tire of the view, talking of years long gone and watching the birds as they flit from feeder to lilac to tree and back. Teacher has fed her children at this same table, and her grand-children. Now she looks at pictures of great-great-grandchildren from the same chair she sat in for so many meals. She doesn’t really remember who the pictures are of, but she likes to look at the children’s smiles. Sometimes there is enough of a family resemblance that she knows they are her relatives, sometimes she just smiles at the beautiful faces of strangers looking up at her from the album.
Photo credit
Two pheasants come to peck at the sunflower seeds that the raucous jays have spilled on the ground, and even Teacher’s failing eyes can pick out their vibrant colors. The sun peeks out from behind the clouds, and we both “ahhhhh” like the crowds on the Fourth of July. “There’s the sun!” she says, “Isn’t that just beautiful…” I ask if she is warm enough (she never is these days) and offer a blanket to wrap around her shoulders. Teacher smiles her thanks and goes back to watching as the golden sunlight pours over the fields, contrasting deliciously with the purple shadows where the snow has drifted and dimpled.
We spend much of our time in silence. Teacher drifts through the memories of the years she has seen, and I wait for the tidbits she chooses to share. I crochet a lot when I am with her, just sitting and enjoying the silence. I keep an eye on the bird feeder, letting her know when an unusual bird arrives for a visit or commenting on the antics of our “regulars”. I used to ask her to identify some of the different birds for me, but now I get out the bird guide and we look them up together. I like to watch the way Teacher touches the pages of her bird guide. She caresses each page, tracing the colors and outlines of the different birds. There is a tender joy in her movements. Two of her favorite things, birds and books, combined in one object that she can touch.
Today, the snow is blowing across the fields, rising in clouds that blur the stand of pines beyond. I turn on some soothing classical music – she is partial to Debussy – and we let the music drift over us. Teacher asks (again) what project I am working on, and I hold it up, shaking out the wrinkles so she can see the bright colors I am weaving together. “It’s going to be an afghan. I hope Big Sprout will want it when it’s done” I reply (again). This sparks the same conversation we have already had 3 times today. She asks how old the Sprouts are, what grades they are in, and if they are happy. I answer her questions, and tell her a few amusing anecdotes about their behavior. Then we settle into silence again. It never bothers me to answer her questions over and over through the day. Teacher doesn’t remember asking, and I like that she is interested enough to ask.
Sometimes, Teacher will hold the end of my crocheting project while I work. Her hands are still strong, the fingers nimble, and she seems to enjoy the textures of yarn as she traces the loops and swirls of each stitch. Teacher watches as the hook darts in and out of loops of yarn, light flashing off the colored metal. I think she gets a little hypnotized by the motion. I can see her eyelids droop and her eyes lose their focus as she watches. Soon her eyes close altogether, and I stay as quiet as I can to let her nap.
The day will come (probably sooner rather than later) when she will move on to whatever comes after this life. There will be no more afternoons spent in companionable silence, no more pecks on the cheek and promises to “see you soon”. I can’t worry about that. Every day is treated like it is our last day together, and I know that when the time comes for us to part ways, I will be happy for her. I will have the memories of 12 years of her friendship. I will have all the many things she has taught me to keep her with me over the years. And I will cherish every one.
Two pheasants come to peck at the sunflower seeds that the raucous jays have spilled on the ground, and even Teacher’s failing eyes can pick out their vibrant colors. The sun peeks out from behind the clouds, and we both “ahhhhh” like the crowds on the Fourth of July. “There’s the sun!” she says, “Isn’t that just beautiful…” I ask if she is warm enough (she never is these days) and offer a blanket to wrap around her shoulders. Teacher smiles her thanks and goes back to watching as the golden sunlight pours over the fields, contrasting deliciously with the purple shadows where the snow has drifted and dimpled.
We spend much of our time in silence. Teacher drifts through the memories of the years she has seen, and I wait for the tidbits she chooses to share. I crochet a lot when I am with her, just sitting and enjoying the silence. I keep an eye on the bird feeder, letting her know when an unusual bird arrives for a visit or commenting on the antics of our “regulars”. I used to ask her to identify some of the different birds for me, but now I get out the bird guide and we look them up together. I like to watch the way Teacher touches the pages of her bird guide. She caresses each page, tracing the colors and outlines of the different birds. There is a tender joy in her movements. Two of her favorite things, birds and books, combined in one object that she can touch.
Today, the snow is blowing across the fields, rising in clouds that blur the stand of pines beyond. I turn on some soothing classical music – she is partial to Debussy – and we let the music drift over us. Teacher asks (again) what project I am working on, and I hold it up, shaking out the wrinkles so she can see the bright colors I am weaving together. “It’s going to be an afghan. I hope Big Sprout will want it when it’s done” I reply (again). This sparks the same conversation we have already had 3 times today. She asks how old the Sprouts are, what grades they are in, and if they are happy. I answer her questions, and tell her a few amusing anecdotes about their behavior. Then we settle into silence again. It never bothers me to answer her questions over and over through the day. Teacher doesn’t remember asking, and I like that she is interested enough to ask.
Sometimes, Teacher will hold the end of my crocheting project while I work. Her hands are still strong, the fingers nimble, and she seems to enjoy the textures of yarn as she traces the loops and swirls of each stitch. Teacher watches as the hook darts in and out of loops of yarn, light flashing off the colored metal. I think she gets a little hypnotized by the motion. I can see her eyelids droop and her eyes lose their focus as she watches. Soon her eyes close altogether, and I stay as quiet as I can to let her nap.
The day will come (probably sooner rather than later) when she will move on to whatever comes after this life. There will be no more afternoons spent in companionable silence, no more pecks on the cheek and promises to “see you soon”. I can’t worry about that. Every day is treated like it is our last day together, and I know that when the time comes for us to part ways, I will be happy for her. I will have the memories of 12 years of her friendship. I will have all the many things she has taught me to keep her with me over the years. And I will cherish every one.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Flight of the Butterfly
Today the Sprouts released two Monarch butterflies after watching them go from stripy little caterpillars to cocoons and, finally, to brilliant orange and black beauties.Big Sprout definitely took a more scholarly approach to the endeavor. She read the instructions carefully on how to care for her 'pillar, and glowed with quiet satisfaction when the entire process went exactly as described.
For Little Sprout, on the other hand, this was an adventure of epic proportions. Every movement, every moment was a discovery for her.
I was so proud as I watched both my girls gently open the "bug box" that their little friends had been living in. They carefully tipped the boxes on their sides, encouraging the Monarchs to take flight and explore the world outside their tiny little homes. They watched, fascinated, as the butterflies floated up and away with unexpected speed into the treetops.
There is something magical about watching butterflies flutter through the air like wind tossed leaves. You can't imagine that their flight is intentional. They seem buffeted by every current in the air. Yet they always seem to end up exactly where they want to be.
We all stood there, barefoot, on the deck as these fragile creatures took off into the wild unknown. My Sprouts watched the Monarchs, and I watched my Sprouts. Awe and honest, bone-deep joy radiated from their faces, and they looked positively angelic.
It was a good moment.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Sometimes You Gotta Pay Attention To The Worms
After supper, and about two hours of Little Sprout driving everyone in the house batty, I took my little Barefoot Behind out to the flower beds hoping to get some weeding done. The hostas planted there last year haven't all poked through yet, but I figured I remembered well enough where I planted them. With fingers crossed, I dug in with the Garden Claw, knelt down, and started pulling out ground ivy and dandelions.
Little Sprout, who had accompanied me out into the yard, was inspecting her wading pool. We (shamefully) left it inflated and out in the yard all winter long, and yesterday's rain had deposited a couple inches of water in the bottom. As she was industriously attempting to tip her pool over and dump all the nasty, dirty water, she noticed a little worm crawling around in the bottom of the pool.
Just as an aside, how in the heck do they get in there, anyhow???
She was pretty excited to find the "bug", and for once I thought about it before getting irritated that she was waving a creepy-crawly in front of my face.
So I told her about worms, and made a "bed" in the dirt for her to lay it in. I marvelled at how gentle she was with the squishy, wet little critter. Then she sat on my lap and we watched as the worm calmed down from it's fright, got itself re-oriented, and finally disappeared into the dirt.
It was a good moment, and one that I wouldn't have had if I hadn't taken the time to breathe before reacting. The sweetness of the moment almost makes up for the irritation of having her scream "I DON'T WANNA EAT!!!!!!" at the table for half an hour.
Almost....
Little Sprout, who had accompanied me out into the yard, was inspecting her wading pool. We (shamefully) left it inflated and out in the yard all winter long, and yesterday's rain had deposited a couple inches of water in the bottom. As she was industriously attempting to tip her pool over and dump all the nasty, dirty water, she noticed a little worm crawling around in the bottom of the pool.
Just as an aside, how in the heck do they get in there, anyhow???
She was pretty excited to find the "bug", and for once I thought about it before getting irritated that she was waving a creepy-crawly in front of my face.
So I told her about worms, and made a "bed" in the dirt for her to lay it in. I marvelled at how gentle she was with the squishy, wet little critter. Then she sat on my lap and we watched as the worm calmed down from it's fright, got itself re-oriented, and finally disappeared into the dirt.
It was a good moment, and one that I wouldn't have had if I hadn't taken the time to breathe before reacting. The sweetness of the moment almost makes up for the irritation of having her scream "I DON'T WANNA EAT!!!!!!" at the table for half an hour.
Almost....
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
How I Know It Will All Be Okay
The other night at work, I was struggling with fear and uncertainty. Whether it was hormones or being un-medicated and insane, I will probably never know. There I was, literally shaking inside and out, convinced that nothing would ever be alright in the world (or, more importantly, my life) again. I wanted to run, to hide, to disappear into the night and never have to deal with any of this ever again.
I went out the front door at work and lit a cig, praying a little that I would make it through the night. Somewhere in the anxiety, a little voice in my mind started to speak. Just one word: "Listen.....listen......listen".
So I did. I took a deep breath and I listened. I looked up to the stars, and somehow they seemed closer. I could have sworn in that moment that all I would have to do is reach my hand to the sky, and a star would have landed in my hand. The bare tree branches were starkly outlined against the night sky.
I took another deep breath, and listened some more. I heard frogs peeping in the distance, and a pair of owls hooted on the other side of the yard. A small critter, probably our resident skunk, rustled through the dried leaves in the woods. I could hear cars rushing by on the road about a mile away, and just a little further off something startled the geese at the lake and set off a rush of honking and splashing water.
I took yet another deep breath, and suddenly I could smell the earth around me. The wet, decaying leaves with their sweet scent so strong that it almost had a flavor. The fresh wind with it's faint trace of rain. The musty smell of newly disturbed dirt and rock. The scent of the lake just across the road.
In that moment, I knew that I was a part of all of it. I knew that I was a small part, but a part all the same. In that moment, everything was more real, somehow.
And it was okay.
God, Goddess, Great Spirit, or just the workings of a deranged mind..... it doesn't matter what spoke to me in that moment. I heard. For that one moment in time, I understood that my fears don't really matter in the big picture. I found comfort in my insignificance to the greater pattern of life.
Things are so simple when you let them be. I am no different than the birds and beasts I share this Earth with. I am no different than the goose, the owl, the skunk, the tree, or even the star. My victories ~ and my failures ~ make just the tiniest ripples in the patterns of life. Our needs are the same. We need food, shelter, to raise our young. We need clean water to drink, air to breathe. We will all exist for a time, and then leave this life.
All I need to have a good life is provided by the land around me. I have within me the skills I need to raise my Sprouts well. Everything else is complication. Everything else is clutter. Everything else, though some of it is fun, is unnecessary.
It was a relief to be reminded that life is about the LIVING. Too often I get caught up in thinking about what I can do, what I should do, what I can get away with doing (that maybe I shouldn't be), what I would do if things were different, what others want me to do.... I forget that all that thinking isn't what life is all about. It's about the experience. It's about being.
I went out the front door at work and lit a cig, praying a little that I would make it through the night. Somewhere in the anxiety, a little voice in my mind started to speak. Just one word: "Listen.....listen......listen".
So I did. I took a deep breath and I listened. I looked up to the stars, and somehow they seemed closer. I could have sworn in that moment that all I would have to do is reach my hand to the sky, and a star would have landed in my hand. The bare tree branches were starkly outlined against the night sky.
I took another deep breath, and listened some more. I heard frogs peeping in the distance, and a pair of owls hooted on the other side of the yard. A small critter, probably our resident skunk, rustled through the dried leaves in the woods. I could hear cars rushing by on the road about a mile away, and just a little further off something startled the geese at the lake and set off a rush of honking and splashing water.
I took yet another deep breath, and suddenly I could smell the earth around me. The wet, decaying leaves with their sweet scent so strong that it almost had a flavor. The fresh wind with it's faint trace of rain. The musty smell of newly disturbed dirt and rock. The scent of the lake just across the road.
In that moment, I knew that I was a part of all of it. I knew that I was a small part, but a part all the same. In that moment, everything was more real, somehow.
And it was okay.
God, Goddess, Great Spirit, or just the workings of a deranged mind..... it doesn't matter what spoke to me in that moment. I heard. For that one moment in time, I understood that my fears don't really matter in the big picture. I found comfort in my insignificance to the greater pattern of life.
Things are so simple when you let them be. I am no different than the birds and beasts I share this Earth with. I am no different than the goose, the owl, the skunk, the tree, or even the star. My victories ~ and my failures ~ make just the tiniest ripples in the patterns of life. Our needs are the same. We need food, shelter, to raise our young. We need clean water to drink, air to breathe. We will all exist for a time, and then leave this life.
All I need to have a good life is provided by the land around me. I have within me the skills I need to raise my Sprouts well. Everything else is complication. Everything else is clutter. Everything else, though some of it is fun, is unnecessary.
It was a relief to be reminded that life is about the LIVING. Too often I get caught up in thinking about what I can do, what I should do, what I can get away with doing (that maybe I shouldn't be), what I would do if things were different, what others want me to do.... I forget that all that thinking isn't what life is all about. It's about the experience. It's about being.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Making Something Beautiful
I have always wanted to make something amazingly beautiful. It is part of my creative side. I am forever decorating, painting, sketching, writing, crafting. Nothing makes me happier than creating something that pleases the eye.
Last night I was feeling a little bit down. It seemed to me that everything I have made just wasn't good enough. There was nothing in my vast collection of things I have "prettified" that truly took my breath away. I have yet to write a poem that changes lives, yet to paint a picture that brings tears and gasps of awe from those who view it, yet to design the garden that takes folks away to the magical place of their sweetest childhood dreams of an enchanted forest.
I was feeling like a failure.
Then, just as I was drifting off to sleep, it came to me. I have created something wonderful. And this something is going to live on after I am gone. It will change people's lives, it will bring something special to the world that no one else can.
The thing I created? Well, there are two of them.
My Sprouts.
Big Sprout, summer '09 ///////// Little Sprout and Grandma Barefoot, fall '09
Last night I was feeling a little bit down. It seemed to me that everything I have made just wasn't good enough. There was nothing in my vast collection of things I have "prettified" that truly took my breath away. I have yet to write a poem that changes lives, yet to paint a picture that brings tears and gasps of awe from those who view it, yet to design the garden that takes folks away to the magical place of their sweetest childhood dreams of an enchanted forest.
I was feeling like a failure.
Then, just as I was drifting off to sleep, it came to me. I have created something wonderful. And this something is going to live on after I am gone. It will change people's lives, it will bring something special to the world that no one else can.
The thing I created? Well, there are two of them.
My Sprouts.
Big Sprout, summer '09 ///////// Little Sprout and Grandma Barefoot, fall '09
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Nostalgia is a Great Birthday Present
This, my dear friends, is the Baked Bean Crock. Oh, and ignore the crumbs on my counter. I have kids, and Big Sprout doesn't believe in wiping counters after she uses them. I will beat her later, I promise.
Where was I....Oh, yes.
This is the Baked Bean Crock. I am not sure if Mom made it, bought it, or received it as a gift, but she has had it for all my memory. This is the crock that Mom served Baked Beans in up until I was probably 12 or 13 yrs old. She never used anything else....at least that I remember.
At one point we were talking, and I mentioned how much I loved this thing. It isn't really pretty, it isn't fancy, it isn't stylish. But it says "home" to me. It is something that makes me think of family meals around the old (ugly as sin) kitchen table, of winter days full of play and a warm meal waiting. It makes me think of all the good things that come from long traditions and simple values.
I love it, chips and scratches and all.
Thanks, Mom.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
It's a Celebration!
Today we celebrated Little Sprout's 2nd birthday. We gorged on hot ham and cheese sandwiches, fruit, veggies and dip, and chips. Then I cracked out the cake. Obviously, Little Sprout had had about enough of the food thing...
Little Sprout got quite a few amazing gifts. There were lots of books (we are a reading family), adorable beaded socks, movies, a couple toys (thankfully not too many), and her favorite: a flashlight looking thing that has little colored lights inside. When you push the button, the lights spin at high speed, creating really cool patterns. Little Sprout loves that one best so far.
After everyone left (well, Dad was still hanging around) the neighbor boys came over and played in our leaf pile with the Sprouts. Oh! It was so funny to watch them. The boys would bury themselves, and Little Sprout would yell "Oh, No!" and quickly uncover their faces.
She even helped rake up some more leaves. Everyone wanted that pile as big as they could get it.
Big Sprout had a blast hiding in the leaves. It is a family tradition every year for my Mom and the Sprouts to get together and play in the leaves. This year the Sprouts got TWO days of leaf fun! They went to the folks' place yesterday to play with Grandma, and then today they got to play at our house.
Really, it was the most amazing of all days. The sun was out, it was warm, and there were loved ones all around. Too bad Little Sprout is too young to remember it...
Friday, August 01, 2008
Feelin' Groovy
Just to let you all know, I am trying to keep up with you all (or at least most of you) but if you don't hear from me for a bit it is just because I am so GOL~DARN BUSY!
Man, oh man! Today was so great! My good friend Sunny offered to take both the Sprouts for as long as I needed so that I could finish up painting at the house. I gladly took her up on that, and Dad and I headed over to the house as soon as I got off work this morning.
We kicked butt! I actually finished all three bedrooms, and I can't believe how great it feels. I had to duck out on the Traditional Friday Lunch, but Dad has been feeding me and the Sprouts way too much lately anyway. Dad finished Little Sprout's room, and did some touch up work in Big Sprout's room. That left priming and painting Mr. Barefoot's and my bedroom and painting Big Sprout's trim. Well, the trim for her room. She doesn't have any trim, if you know what I mean.
Hah, I am a little punch~drunk, you think?
Anyway, Mr. Barefoot showed up in the mid~afternoon with a carpet cleaner (thank goodness we will hopefully be able to get that strange smell out of the house now), and I was still working in the bedrooms. I booked like crazy to finish them before he needed to be in there cleaning the carpets, and finished at 5:30pm. Oh, the sense of accomplishment!
Sunny called and invited us over for shish~kebobs on the grill, and of course we took her up on it. I mean, who wouldn't?! We are talking kabobs here!
I got there and found the most wonderful sight in the world. Big Sprout and Sunny's oldest were doing what they do best, hanging out together. And, wonder of wonders, Little Sprout was actually playing with Sunny's younger two quite well! I couldn't believe it. See, I (affectionately) call Little Sprout my "demon child". She likes to scream, hit, bite, and throw tantrums. She is so different from Big Sprout, who has been a quiet angel seeking only to please since birth, that I have often wondered how in the world I could have given birth to both of them. Needless to say, seeing Little Sprout playing so sweetly with the other kids was a HUGE relief. I could tell she loved Sunny, too. She kept running up to her and trying to climb up in her arms.
Note to self: Make sure to schedule many play~dates with Sunny and kids....maybe Little Sprout will become that nice all the time.
Anyway.....we had a FABULOUS meal with Sunny and her family. There were the kabobs, of course, but we also had baked (well, grilled really) Yukon Gold 'taters, homemade FRESH cole slaw (as in the cabbage came out of the garden the night before), fresh cukes, and pumpkin bars. Oh, yum.
I got to check out Sunny's garden, too. Actually, it is her Grandma's garden (Grandma lives across the barnyard from Sunny), but Sunny helps quite a bit. I was in AWE. Seriously. I am so jealous of that fabulous garden. Sunny almost NEVER has to buy veggies, because their garden is so large that it provides almost all their needs. "Their" meaning Grandma and Grandpa, Sunny's family of 5, and various aunts and uncles. I mean, wow.
Sunny likes to complain about the garden...it is too big, takes too much time, etc. So I liberated a bag of cukes and another of kohlrabi from her fridge. She was much pleased to see them go. I just wish she really understood what a blessing that garden is.
Anywhoo. It really was a FABULOUS day. I normally don't care to socialise too much, but I really enjoyed spending time with friends. I had forgotten how much fun it could be.
To top off my fabulous day, I got home and started to check all your blogs, and I found that Fr. Peter actually quoted me on his blog! I feel like a rock star.
So, I guess that is it....no deep thoughts to share, no funny stories to tell. Just sharing a really, really good day.
Hope you all have one just as good!
Friday, April 04, 2008
Oh, and One More Thing...
It is absolutely WONDERFUL to be able to open the patio door and all the windows and air out the apt.
I can't believe how much calmer I feel now that the apt smells fresher. No product on the market can beat the scent of sun-warmed breezes.
I can't believe how much calmer I feel now that the apt smells fresher. No product on the market can beat the scent of sun-warmed breezes.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
The Stuff of Myth and Legend
A White Stag has been sighted in the Scottish Highlands.
I am struck by how people, even those usually pragmatic to a fault, are having a visceral response to this sighting. The fact that the location of the deer has to be kept secret breaks my heart. Why would someone want to destroy something so beautiful, so special and rare?
I remember when the White Buffalo was born in Wisconsin. I very nearly took a pilgrimage to see her. Now I wish I would have.
Even if one doesn't believe in the myths and legends associated with such creatures, it is impossible to deny that they have a sense of "otherworld-ness" to them. Perhaps if I were to watch them behave just like every other (traditionally colored) animal of their species, I would lose that sense of awe.
I hope not.
I am struck by how people, even those usually pragmatic to a fault, are having a visceral response to this sighting. The fact that the location of the deer has to be kept secret breaks my heart. Why would someone want to destroy something so beautiful, so special and rare?
I remember when the White Buffalo was born in Wisconsin. I very nearly took a pilgrimage to see her. Now I wish I would have.
Even if one doesn't believe in the myths and legends associated with such creatures, it is impossible to deny that they have a sense of "otherworld-ness" to them. Perhaps if I were to watch them behave just like every other (traditionally colored) animal of their species, I would lose that sense of awe.
I hope not.
Monday, May 29, 2006
Living The Barefoot Life
Being barefoot in the garden is so much more than just taking your shoes off and jumping in. It's about being aware of life, your affect on your surroundings, and the effect they have on you. It's about living in the Now and appreciating the quieter pleasures in life. Too often, as we get older, we get caught up in society's race for "Bigger, Better, Faster, More, More, More!!!" and we forget all about the joy of playing in the mud, of building something with our own two hands. We have become disconnected from our families, our world, and ourselves. We run faster and faster, trying to keep up with what the media and that nebulous but ever-present "they" say we need to have, feel, and be. Well, I have taken off my running shoes, and choose to slow down a little. Take a deep breath. Look around me. Relax a little. Enjoy my family before they grow up and away. Listen to the voice inside me that already knows what is right for me.
We interrupt this program with an update on real life....
I set my alarm for 5 am so I could weed my little veggie patch this morning before the heat hit. Being prego has really made a difference for me physically, and the unusually high temps and humidity we have been having around my area are kicking my butt. My veggie patch (too small to really call a garden) is not located at my home. Due to answering the Siren's Call of "buy now, pay later", I live in a small apt with my DH, 2 SD's, and DD while trying to get out of debt and buy my own piece of paradise (paradise = anywhere with green growing things). I tried to grow tomatoes on the balcony last year, but no luck.....It's just too hot up here overlooking the parking lot. Luckily, my parents live a block away and have a (comparatively) huge yard. So Dad and I worked a deal. I can have a garden over there and he gets a cut of the produce. I figure it's cheap rent on the land, and if I didn't have SOME dirt to dig in I would probably go stark raving mad.
So back to 5 am....It was amazing! I almost didn't make it, as I am not a morning person, but the reward was well worth it. Cool breezes, birds chirping and warbling, the rhythmic motion of the hoe, thinking happy thoughts of fresh cukes and all the stir-fry I could do with the peppers and onions.....It was magic. Meditation in motion. Who needs Tai Chi classes and all that? Just get your behind outside at dawn (don't forget the bug-spray) and do a little weeding! I was almost sorry when the task was complete. But I consoled myself with the idea that every garden I have ever had grew weeds just as easily as anything else, and so I would have many more chances to be out at dawn and repeat the experience. I spent a few minutes looking at the flower beds around the yard (also my responsibility) and took note of where I needed to do some weeding. Mostly I just enjoyed the sight of the irises in bloom and marvelled that the hostas I fought and hacked at to divide have filled out so nicely. I know that these gardens are only a baby-step in my Grand Master Plan to live a more self-sufficient country life, but they give me hope. They are small successes that keep me motivated to stick to the Plan and fight to get where I want to ultimately be in life.
We interrupt this program with an update on real life....
I set my alarm for 5 am so I could weed my little veggie patch this morning before the heat hit. Being prego has really made a difference for me physically, and the unusually high temps and humidity we have been having around my area are kicking my butt. My veggie patch (too small to really call a garden) is not located at my home. Due to answering the Siren's Call of "buy now, pay later", I live in a small apt with my DH, 2 SD's, and DD while trying to get out of debt and buy my own piece of paradise (paradise = anywhere with green growing things). I tried to grow tomatoes on the balcony last year, but no luck.....It's just too hot up here overlooking the parking lot. Luckily, my parents live a block away and have a (comparatively) huge yard. So Dad and I worked a deal. I can have a garden over there and he gets a cut of the produce. I figure it's cheap rent on the land, and if I didn't have SOME dirt to dig in I would probably go stark raving mad.
So back to 5 am....It was amazing! I almost didn't make it, as I am not a morning person, but the reward was well worth it. Cool breezes, birds chirping and warbling, the rhythmic motion of the hoe, thinking happy thoughts of fresh cukes and all the stir-fry I could do with the peppers and onions.....It was magic. Meditation in motion. Who needs Tai Chi classes and all that? Just get your behind outside at dawn (don't forget the bug-spray) and do a little weeding! I was almost sorry when the task was complete. But I consoled myself with the idea that every garden I have ever had grew weeds just as easily as anything else, and so I would have many more chances to be out at dawn and repeat the experience. I spent a few minutes looking at the flower beds around the yard (also my responsibility) and took note of where I needed to do some weeding. Mostly I just enjoyed the sight of the irises in bloom and marvelled that the hostas I fought and hacked at to divide have filled out so nicely. I know that these gardens are only a baby-step in my Grand Master Plan to live a more self-sufficient country life, but they give me hope. They are small successes that keep me motivated to stick to the Plan and fight to get where I want to ultimately be in life.
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