IT’S THAT TIME OF YEAR ALREADY?

[Yes, it's definitely that time of year! When I did my shopping I couldn't resist the display of seed packets--bought some (for other people to use). Made my day! My family is full of gardeners--generations before me, generations after me. People in my neighborhood and elsewhere are working in their yards and some are planting things, so, here are some thoughts on gardens that I wrote a couple of years ago.]

Today I’m not very inspired by what I see in my neighborhood, or know is coming up on my calendar (which isn't much). I mean, I’m having green grass, bloomin’ flowers, and singing birds. Oh, and troublesome squirrels, digging in my landscaping. Grrr. Lots of folks are having the same. Yesterday I did a bigger-than-usual shop for groceries and the good old etc. Are you interested in hearing about that? No, didn't think you would.

So, let’s think about something current and nice to contemplate—gardens and gardening. Here are some pithy thoughts to stir your brain:

If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need.

Marcus Tullius Cicero

[Can’t argue with that one.]

 A garden requires patient labor and attention. Plants do not grow merely to satisfy ambitions or to fulfill good intentions. They thrive because someone expended effort on them.

Liberty Hyde Bailey

[Hmm, effort. Yes, indeed.]

We must cultivate our own garden. When man was put in the garden of Eden he was put there so that he should work, which proves that man was not born to rest.

Voltaire

[Yeah, but sometimes I need to rest, a lot. Sorry, Voltaire.]

 I don't like formal gardens. I like wild nature. It's just the wilderness instinct in me, I guess.

Walt Disney

[Wilderness is fine, but there better not be any snakes and big bears.]

 The best place to find God is in a garden. You can dig for him there.

George Bernard Shaw

[Good one, George.]

 Everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help. Gardening is an instrument of grace.

May Sarton

[Maybe I better rethink this gardening thing.]

 Help us to be ever faithful gardeners of the spirit, who know that without darkness nothing comes to birth, and without light nothing flowers.

May Sarton

[Ah, gardening as metaphor—now I can get into that.]

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When I googled “gardening” I discovered mostly info about flower gardens and what I call English gardens—not a kitchen garden that feeds the manor but cultivated and high-maintenance beauties.

Pole beans make hiding places by August.

Then I thought about gardens in my life, and I time-traveled back to childhood—Grandpa Jenkins was the first gardener I remember. When we went to visit him and Grandma at the edge of their little town, there beside the house was a HUGE garden—what I’d call a couple of acres now that I know what that looks like—where Grandpa tilled, planted, cultivated, and harvested every kind of vegetable. I remember especially the tee-pees he made to encourage the beans to vine up. Those made wonderful hiding places in summer if I wanted to get away from my irritating (male) cousins.

We kids often pulled and ate radishes and carrots right out in the garden. Dirt? Well, yeah, there was dirt on them; they grew in the dirt. We wiped it off on our slacks or on the grass, and chomped away.

By August there was always something to can. My mother and her sisters and sisters-in-law came to help Grandma “put up” pints and quarts of beautiful food. Some of the jars went home with the helpers, some stayed at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. My job was washing the jars, because my hands were smaller than those of my mom and aunts. (And also less swollen because I was too young to have arthritis, a family hand-me-down.)

My own adult experiences with gardening have no romance about them, not even in memory—I recall back-breaking work, sweat, mosquitoes (try picking cucumbers at dawn to take to the local pickle factory), more sweat during canning. But for me, it was an eye-opener: my parents and grandparents went to a lot of trouble and toil to provide meals for their tables. Nothing like an aching back and some itchy mosquito bites to drive home a lesson about how food gets to the mouths of our children.

At my time in life, firmly established in retirement, I enjoy the produce grown by others: my daughter and son who are the gardeners in the family; folks who offer their wares at the Farmer’s Market; neighbors and friends with surplus tomatoes/squash/cucumbers on their half-dozen plants that all produced at the same time.

When I miss the camaraderie of the kitchen at harvest time, I go to my daughter’s in Ohio and cut up, slice, or clean whatever’s going; wash dishes, and jars and lids and rings; stir a pot of something that needs to cook a little before being canned (jelly and pasta sauce); rest my weary back and legs for a while and eat a quick lunch; then back to the jar-filling before I head home. Come winter, I’ll spread jam (that I helped make) on toast and utter an “ummmm.” And when I can’t think of anything to cook, there’s a jar of pasta sauce on the pantry shelf waiting for my gluten-free pasta to join it for a filling dish. Tomato juice? V-4 juice? Just right for soup. Get out the slow cooker and start putting things in.

Nowadays I’m more of an appreciator than a gardener. But I celebrate and salute all those who really dig gardening. J





NINE DAYS!

Can you make it 9 more days till Spring arrives? Of course you can!

Yesterday our temp here in Northeast Indiana was 67 degrees! Windy, naturally. Mostly sunny. And a foretaste of the season to come! When I got up this morning, it was 61 degrees and rain. Also a foretaste of the season to come.

My neighbor's big old maple is already budding. Mine are a bit reticent, waiting until all the other trees have done their big number before coming to the show. But narcissus are up, with tall leaves indicating stems with flowers will be along soon. The resurrection lily has leaves at least five inches above the ground. 

It all looks pretty good so far. Our recent snows (3 weeks ago I wrote about our 6-10 inches of white stuff) have melted. But now lawns are covered in debris--last year's leaves blown in from somebody else's yard, sticks that parted from their trees during the wintry storms and the weight of ice and snow. There'll be plenty of clean-up to do one of these balmy days.

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I hope no one thinks I'm doing my ostrich act--I do know we could have another humdinger of a snow storm--in March, in April. We've had snow in May, for heaven's sake. Nothing is certain just because the calendar declares Spring has arrived. But since Thursday's Child likes to celebrate, we're celebrating the Signs of Spring--the overture before the main event.

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Another sign of the new season is the arrival of--you guessed it--Daylight Savings Time. By the time we meet again we'll have lost that hour of sleep that happens every year in March. It always comes along just when I'm getting accustomed to early morning light--nice to wake up in the light, not in the dark. The other end of the day stays light longer, and that means I won't want to go to bed at a normal time. Or eat supper at the appropriate hour. When it's so light outside, I'm not hungry. Go figure.

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Here's the great thing about the arrival of Spring--it's a free gift. After a year (or more) of uncertain times--political dominance of the news, illness and death on a mega scale (also much in the news), protests, rioting, marching, speeches--after all that and more, Nature comes along on schedule and hands us a brand new season to enjoy. All we have to do is accept the gift. We had no influence in the gift's arrival time. We didn't order it (though I know a good many people prayed for it to come soon). We couldn't bribe Nature to do it now.

To paraphrase a Simon & Garfunkel song, "Spring, come she will."

 I hope your transition to the new season is carefree, full of joy. Take some time to look for Nature's signs that she's arriving in her new garb. Bask in the sun. Take a walk in the rain. Listen for birdsong.

Till next time, stay safe, stay well. 

Blessings to all...........

MARCH

 

Daffodils like 'Love Call', sometimes called jonquils or narcissus, are the birth flowers for March. Because they often bloom in early spring, they symbolize new birth, beginnings, happiness and joy. --HGTV website

I also read somewhere that daffodils symbolize hope. So take your pick: new birth--beginnings--happiness--joy--hope.

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You probably noticed that the calendar page changed. And in just a little over two weeks, we'll say "It's spring!" 

Most people I've talked to are hoping the lamb-like opening of the month isn't going to slide down into a lionized ending. But it isn't purely lamb-like--sunny, yes, and some warm days. But there's an occasional biting wind lurking around. Our winter coats and scarves and gloves are still hanging around ready to slip on before we head outside.

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Recently I wrote a note to a friend, apologizing for my tardy thanks for her gift. I wasn't sure if I was slowing down or if Time was really and truly speeding up. 

It occurs to me now that this is exactly what my grandparents must have felt. They were married in 1898, had 10 children in the next 24 years, and thus an abundance of grandchildren. We all grew up in "modern" times--jazz, bobbed hair, bathtub gin for the older cousins. Women working in factories during WW II, more jazz, then rock 'n' roll, faster cars for the later group.

As I grew older, I felt my feet dragging when the times started speeding up on me--manners and morals seemed to change overnight; crime came closer to home (no longer just a feature of big city living). When new technology came, I was among those who had to grit their teeth and learn to use computers if they wanted to keep working.

Now that I'm well-advanced in my life, I begin to empathize with my grandparents in their struggle to cope with social change. "Modern times" is a phrase that actually means nothing--every time claims to be modern. New Age is now an outmoded concept. Today's latest-and-greatest is tomorrow's "old school."

What I take away from this line of thinking is this: Why bother trying to keep up? Why not, instead, find what suits us--a preferred way of doing something, a kind of tool or appliance we like to work with, our favorite recipes or quilting patterns or birdhouse designs--and just do those things? Why not, indeed! We can always be creative within the parameters of our faves.

We can still keep up to date with what the world is doing, if we want to, by watching movies and TV series on the hundreds of channels available nowadays. We can visit with our grandchildren and great-grandchildren and find out what they know and like and what's new in their lives. And read--there's always something out there we haven't read yet.

Change is good--it keeps us from growing stale. But change is not good if it's done just to keep up with what the world is doing. Why? Because by the time you change your way of living--especially if you move slowly, like I do--there's yet another brand new way out there waiting for you. 

My experience tells me that what I've done for years, and the ways I've enjoyed doing those things, have become my way of doing them.

It's called being your authentic self. So why not do that!

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Here are some closing thoughts for you:

Daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty.
–William Shakespeare, The Winter’s Tale

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
–William Wordsworth, I Wander’d Lonely as a Cloud

Of Spring Weather:
Chillier, but daffodillier.
–The 1991 Old Farmer’s Almanac

Daffodil fields

 READING

[I'm rerunning this post now before another month whips by and reading may be a sometime-thing. Hope you're enjoying reading time--the 50-book challenge always helps me; I look forward to the next thing to read.]

In my neck of the woods, Winter has tried very hard to settle in, but Spring-like episodes keep popping up. Temps in the 40s (low to high), clouds/fog/rain, partly-sunny skies (fleeting, fleeting) . . . but recently we were saying, "Ah, now it's really Winter." Then a week later, we say, "Oho, beginning to feel really Spring-like."

For those of us who prefer to stay indoors, Winter is a perfect season for reading. (So is hot and humid summer, rainy spring, and windy autumn.) Today Thursday's Child will share some quotations about reading. Some might even make you chuckle or smile a bit. 

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From Beverly Cleary, age 103, who wrote books for middle-grade kids, especially boys; her books are still being read:

My mother always kept library books in the house, and one rainy Sunday afternoon - this was before television, and we didn't even have a radio - I picked up a book to look at the pictures and discovered I was reading and enjoying what I read.

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Mary Oliver, American poet:

As a child, what captivated me was reading the poems myself and realizing that there was a world without material substance which was nevertheless as alive as any other.

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Abraham Lincoln:

If I like a thing, it just sticks after once reading it or hearing it.

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From Maya Angelou:

Any book that helps a child to form a habit of reading, to make reading one of his deep and continuing needs, is good for him.

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From John Wooden, who was head coach of UCLA basketball:

The worst thing about new books is that they keep us from reading the old ones.

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An encouraging thought from Lawrence Clark Powell, librarian and author:

We are the children of a technological age. We have found streamlined ways of doing much of our routine work. Printing is no longer the only way of reproducing books. Reading them, however, has not changed.

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And a cautionary thought from Ray Bradbury, author of science fiction:

Hope all of you who are are hanging in there. In the meantime, thank you, all you readers, who help keep a culture alive. Pass it on.

 HOW ARE YOU LIKING FEBRUARY?

If your answer is, "I'd rather be in Philadelphia," I'm sorry to say there's nothing to be done about that. Unless you want to do a little traveling. I'm not about to go any place at all any time soon--our recent delivery of 6-10 inches of snow (in my neighborhood it was only a little over 6 inches) didn't entice me out for any reason.

The neighbor's grandsons (ages 6 and 5), however, scaled the mountain of snow their grandpa had blown off the driveway--all they needed was a flag on a stick to plant in the top of the mound. Intrepid explorers!

My daughter reported roads were "good," which I took to mean they weren't any more dangerous than usual on snowy mornings. She travels a circuit to work at two or three post offices in our area.

I could handle the snow--after all, it's nice to look at from a warm room--but the thermometer readings--! Single digits held throughout the night and by yesterday morning the "high" for the day finally made it into the double digits, and then the lows--well, never mind. 

I dug out all my heavy sweatshirts--most of them are hoodies--and I wear them in the house, day and night, along with thick socks. The coffee maker is getting a workout. Soup is disappearing from the fridge and shelf so fast I'm wondering if we're feeding people I don't know about. (Maybe we're running a midnight soup kitchen.)

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What do I like about February?

Well, there's Valentine's Day. I got a valentine card--handmade--from my Ohio daughter whose church is doing various activities to stay connected with each other and with their families. I haven't had a valentine card in years, so that was a treat! Another treat--we ate the last two pieces of my birthday cake (carrot cake) which was just as delicious as it had been three weeks before, just as filling, and put on the regulation extra pound as it's required to do.

We celebrated President's Day, my in-house daughter and I, by taking my vehicle for service, then using her vehicle for errands--library, office supply store, and CPA's office to drop off my tax info. My daughter had the day off because she works for the Post Office. If I'd been doing all that on my own it wouldn't have happened; being with someone else distracted me from how danged cold it was, how strong the wind was, and how idiotic I was for being out in it.

February is Black History Month--first celebrated in 1970. Historian Carter G. Woodson had this to say about the need for recognition:

     If a race has no history, it has no worthwhile tradition, it becomes a negligible factor in the thought of the world, and it stands in danger of being exterminated. 

Out of Woodson's life and thought and desire were born what we celebrate as Black History Month, or African-American History Month. And as one comment I saw reminds us: We ought to think of this as a permanent celebration, not one month out of the year.

(Someone else said the same thing about Valentine's Day--expressing love for others isn't limited to one day and one card.)

Our family has some birthdays in February--daughter, daughter-in-law--and my quilting friend. 

Ash Wednesday arrived, heralding about six weeks of Lent. Which means, Easter is about six-plus weeks ahead.

Oh, and I just learned that next week the new season of Unforgotten will start showing on Masterpiece. We've waited a long time for that one.

A short month, and lots to celebrate.

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You'd think these days of indoor living would be welcome--after all, there are quilts to finish; boxes to look through and most of the contents discarded; books to read (I'm getting that one done). I can always write letters, work on story lines for novels in progress; and if I'm desperate, I can clean house. (I rarely get desperate.) Best of all, I don't have to go out in the cold to do any of those things.

What I refuse to do is wish I were somewhere else--or in a different time. Spring will come when she will--the earth will change day by day--without my input. No amount of wishing or ranting or frustration or pouting will affect Nature's timetable.

Can't say I'm thrilled to bits about being snowed in--after all, it's not much different from being quarantined or isolated or locked down. But we're more than halfway to another month, in which we will see the earth begin to open up and bloom, a little at a time (good thing, too, because a huge all-of-a-sudden blooming might knock our socks off).

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Have a wonderful week. Be happy, be safe, be kind.

Here's a little sign of things to come.

Crocuses in the snow!

WHEN DID YOU DISCOVER YOUTUBE?

If you aren't already one of the billions (yes, billions) who engage with something-or-other on YouTube, you likely will be soon. And a lot of it is free!

I occasionally looked up something that had a YouTube video and watched it. Some of my favorites were musicians performing their own work: Simon & Garfunkel--Leonard Cohen--Judy Collins--Peter, Paul & Mary, to name a few. Then I found references to orchestras or choral groups offering large works--the video of the Sydney Orchestra and Chorus performing Handel's Messiah was one of the highlights of my previous Christmas season.

Another entertainment was watching episodes of old TV shows--but they didn't quite make it to my favorites list this time around, so I abandoned those for documentary kinds of stories: the making of a recording or how a particular song came to be written.

Before long I was looking for other stuff--quilting and knitting sites (I'm always up for learning new techniques--and for me, a video is ideal: I can watch and work along with the presenter, then start the whole thing again; or just pause until I catch up).

My current faves are art tutorials: watercolor (pencil, paint), pastel; making greeting cards; trying mixed media ideas. 

The above image shows autumn leaves illustrated by Shadya Campbell, a Canadian artist, whose YouTube channel has hundreds (literally!) of tutorials. I like her style and her tutorials are very easy to follow. And she's a neat person to "visit" with.

Why the big interest, you ask? Thank you for that excellent question. Here's how it is for me:

#1--I can learn at home - no driving in bad weather to another venue, or trying to find out if the event has been cancelled.

#2--I can learn at my own speed. If the presenter loses me (or rather, if I get lost from what's going on), I can stop and catch up, or simply watch the whole thing again.

#3--I can stick my toe in the water to test the temperature without diving in over my head. Art supplies, for example, can be pricey; but I have tons of stuff from previous years of experimentation. And I know about discount suppliers and educational suppliers (offering student-grade paints, which are great for learning how the stuff works). Currently I'm choosing tutes that fit in with my closet-ful of stuff.

#4--I can set my own schedule. Part of that's due to being retired. But part is also due to life having shifted to the slow lane during COVID's appearance in our midst. Hardly anybody expects me to provide anything at a given time. Not even I expect it!

#5--I can try anything at all without anybody knowing about it--and if I'm a total failure, who's to know except me? (And whoever I tell in my blog.)

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One very important part of YouTube for me has been the live streaming or recording of church services. My own congregation's services are available, along with worship from many other places. I've "worshiped" in Venice, Florida; Canterbury, UK; National Cathedral in Washington, DC; and other churches locally. All from my own home.

My friends and I joke about going to church in our pj's and taking our commuter cups of coffee or tea with us. And yet, the sense of community can be discerned, both by knowing others are there "with us," or are yoked with the clergy and laity who bring the service into our homes.

This part of YouTube is the most successful way I've been able to survive the isolation of COVID. Yes, I write emails, produce my blog on a weekly basis, write longhand letters to family, type letters that are emailed to friends who expect more than a "Hi! How are you?" email. I text, even phone people once in a while. And I occasionally get to meet with friends in person, but we're all vigilant about contact, masks, and social distancing.

It all helps keep me sane (more or less, depending on who's looking).

So I recommend YouTube as a place to start if you're looking up anything DIY, from removing stains in clothing to building birdhouses, to changing oil in your car, to--well, you name it. Just type your subject into your search engine and see what comes up. YouTube is likely to be near the top of the list of sites you can check out. If you're not looking for DIY advice, shop around for an old episode of Carol Burnett or Dick Van Dyke. Might help you laugh that day.

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Until next time, keep learning, keep growing, look up things you don't know, and be happy.

Also, stay safe, be kind, and if you're up here in the north country, stay warm!

 Happy February to You...

Have you figured out where January went? I haven't. It just up and disappeared off the calendar. So much for time hanging heavy on our hands. Certainly doesn't around here.

We do have your standard everyday Winter. Windy--naked trees and leafless shrubs wave their arms around (is there a message there?). Sun's out, but makes no difference to highs in the 20s and lows in the nearly single digits (12 degrees last night, felt like 9 degrees). Streets were pretty much cleared by the city trucks, but there are a few nasty icy spots at shady corners of back streets. (No, this isn't a bad neighborhood.)

Already we've had the famous groundhog, who, if he was here in Northeast Indiana, saw his shadow all day long.

And we've used up 1/12 of our allotted months of 2021. Did you use yours wisely? (I won't be reporting anybody, so you can be honest here.)

My January looked like this:

--worked on a no-deadline sofa throw (for myself), which means (the no-deadline part) that it may get finished in time for July 4th. But I press on, doing a couple of steps toward completion each week. The thing is: if I'd finish that one, I could move on to quilts of various sizes for other folks who desperately need them--nursing home/rehab patients, people who've lost their homes through one disaster or another, folks with little or no income at present. Something to think about. And maybe even motivate me to sew more often.

--attended online worship services. With weather uncertain, I prefer not to reserve a spot at a church that holds in-person worship, in case I don't make it. My not showing up means a reserved seat will be empty, when it could've been used by someone else.

--helped with the planning of my 80th birthday bash; you got the details of that last week. All went well, and I got to see many family members, plus friends from college and my church. And I had carrot cake!

--reading . . . made it through six (6) books in January. One was 491 pages. Its sequel is on my February list (only 641 pages, which I think I mis-reported last time). I've tried to lobby for those weighty tomes being counted as 2 books (at least) on the 50-Book Challenge, but so far I've had no luck.

--ate, exercised, rested/slept . . . in  other words, self-care. I also, on a regular basis, do laundry, clean up most of the dishes and cooking utensils after my daughter cooks, and keep the grocery list up to date. My daughter does most of the shopping, since she goes out for work and can stop on her way home.

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Now we're into February. Valentine's Day, Presidents' Day, three birthdays. Plus Chinese New Year, Mardi Gras, and Ash Wednesday. Unknown weather. (We keep a full pantry and freezer, in case we can't get out to shop.) 

One of our great joys is having access to a public library--and we have access to Evergreen Indiana, an inter-library loan program. If the snow and ice keep us from making a personal visit to the library, they'll deliver! We can trawl through the "card catalog" online, make our selections, hit the Place Hold button, and wait for a notice that the selection is in and ready for pickup. 

I haven't yet gone to the extreme of ordering groceries online, but that may be in the future. Since we're not big pizza eaters, we don't get take-out delivered. But it's comforting to know such things are available.

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I'm sure you remember that Groundhog Day is almost exactly six (6) weeks from the first day of Spring. Having a time or event to look forward to is important--not just in winter, but in all the times of lockdown or quarantine or simply socially distancing ourselves from our fellow beings.

So keep in mind that Spring is just barely over six weeks away. Start making plans. Study those garden/seed catalogs. Make a new shirt or order a bathing suit.

And don't forget to read a book!

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Remember, blessings abound! Count yours!