End of Week End

Thank you sun for showing up, coming out, and shining so brilliantly. I needed you! Your presence made every chore a pleasure. Okay, maybe I am getting a little carried away - but everything is better when the sun is shining.

With cottage season almost upon us, our time to get things done around the house and yard is sparse so we made good use of this weekend to catch up and get things in a respectable state so we can enjoy our weekends up North. Hubby ripped the weathered old top off the pool and worked all day to transform the pool of algae into an alluring oasis for more than the mosquitoes. I declared war on the overgrown shrubs and bushes with a pair of rusty cutters I discovered in the garage. I flew into action snipping, cutting, and ripping out the excess, piling it high on the lawn behind me. I couldn't wait to show hubby my enthusiastic effort to assist in restoring our yard to our former glory. So when he emerged from house after eating his lunch to tell me that he needed the pile out of the way so he could mow the lawn - my pride quickly shifted to panic. He told me not to rush - that he was starting with the front.

I soon realized that I had gotten more than a little carried away and I considered crawling under the four foot high pile I'd created. But the old competitive "I can do it" attitude kicked in and I made like a whirling dervish cutting the branches down to size and stuffing them into the yard waste bags, finishing just as hubby rounded the corner. He smiled widely and said "wow, you did it!"

We took a break and relaxed under the breezy canopy, and surveyed our work. We agreed that we are lucky to have the beautiful home we have and although it requires lots of work, it really is a labour of love. Lucky us. Poor muscles and bones. But thankfully - I have Aleve! And so goes another end to our week end. It's been a good one; a sunny one - and everything is better in the sunshine.

Simple Joys of Summer

The taste of summer - fresh strawberries, straight from my Pop's garden, lovingly, organically grown with his special "brand" of compost. How is it a heaping bowl of crimson sweetness can deliver so much happiness? Guess when it comes right down to it, it's those small, simple things in life that create big goodness. Pops and Mama T harvested their bounty, side by side with the chipmunks, over the past few days, and then went into preserving mode.  And the extra bonus - a special jar of homemade strawberry jam. My drop in visits reap great rewards. I'm off to spread some of that goodness on a piece of toast. Loving the simple joys of summer.

Plantslaughter

Tonight the snowbirds fly in, exchanging their chilly Arctic Florida weather for the authentic Canadian winter experience. They are coming home for Christmas and the happy festive factors keep stacking up.

They left me on house duty in their absence; home protector extraordinaire, plant caretaker notsomuch! My dad and T pride themselves on their enormous green thumbs and the lush flora and fauna they grow around themselves. They left their favourite sole survivors of the houseplant variety in my care. The instructions were fairly straight forward - water.

I am not sure what went wrong ... I watered like they said; waited 2 weeks then returned to repeat the deed. The Christmas cactus's were still moist and contented. The leafy green monster was wilted and yellow. What the heck?? I skipped her (she was apparently drowning) and watered the rest of the plants. I returned in 2 weeks to find the cactus STILL happy and moist but I watered it anyway and the leafy green monster had turned from wilted yellow to crispy brown. Cr@p! I peeled off the crunchy bits and ate the evidence - and stressed over whether to mention the health of the plant to Pops. I didn't. I'm an optimist with an unyielding confidence that leafy green would turn a corner and reincarnate.

It didn't happen. I slaughtered that plant. Over the weeks after removing the dead, brittle bits we are left with a Charlie Brown Christmas plant of one lone leaf. Last night when I dropped around with some milk and bread and cranked up the heat in the empty nest, I sat on the floor in front of leafy green. She was alive but barely. Pathetic is an understatement. I apologised silently and then scratched a note out ... I miss my mommy and daddy ... and tucked in the very moist pot. She needs tender loving care that only a parent can give. Little sister never lost a plant on her watch so this failure is hard to face.

What can I say ... I am a plantslaughterer, stemkiller, green thumb orphan. Sorry Pops and T. Want the key back???

Harvest

Life has been lush and forthcoming - especially this past year. I feel as though I am walking through a garden of abundance, plucking sweet red tomatoes from the vine, rescuing crunchy cucumbers from crowded vines, and having the choice of anything I desire from this fertile offering. It's almost more than I can handle!

I suppose a garden is a perfect metaphor for life. We sow seeds where we can barely imagine any possibility and if we continue to nurture the seeds and prepare for the fruit, firm in our faith that something will grow, something surely will. It may not be a whole field, or even a row that blossoms, but we will reap a harvest. If we don't plant a garden; if no seeds are planted, one thing is certain - there will be no reaping of rewards, and there will be no harvest.

And sometimes, even when we are diligent - things happen that are beyond our control; drought, flooding, twists and turns that are imposed on us. These can be seasons of devastation. But the season is not forever; it is but a few months before a new season of possibility presents itself. The trick is to hang on during that time, strong in the knowledge that it is a cycle and that this too shall pass.

These days I am like a happy farmer, collecting delectables in armfuls more than I can carry. I have had some years that have been more bountiful than others and some - even lean. But for some reason, this year is yielding a bumper crop. And I'll take it!

And for this I am truly grateful.

PS - I didn't plant an actual garden this year ... I ate my dad's stuff. All that about sowing seeds ... I was speaking metaphorically.

How Does My Garden Grow?

How does my garden grow? A valid question considering I have not had trowel or shovel in hand since the end of April when we first did our post winter once over on the beds. No excuses …life has been busy and like a miser, hours have been hoarded and conserved for the playbook of tasks that comprises our life these days.

I’ve been self centered of late, totally immersed in the pursuit of my own stuff, and you know what? It feels unnatural and a little odd. Odd - but necessary for now.

As I stood at my kitchen sink, coffee cup in hand, gazing across our pool to the garden (that sounded pretentious!) it struck me how lush and full the garden looked. There were parties of pink annuals that had resurrected themselves and the towering gangs of daisies seemed ready to take the stage. While I had had my head down (gazing at my navel), the perennials had blossomed with wild abandon under my gross neglect. They thrived.

It made me wonder if that same outcome could be applied to parenting. We tend to convince ourselves that they need our undying support and nurturing to help shape, protect and guide them. They need us … they really do. The day comes when they slip from our gaze, lingering only in our peripheral vision, and for one reason or another, life gets in the way or delivers a reason for us to loosen the grip. Our needy little chickadees find themselves alone in the nest, left to their own devices. They test their courage; they fend for themselves. They learn to use the toaster oven or the concept of a vegetable peeler. They experiment with the advice that has been so generously bestowed upon them … choosing to ignore as much as adhere.

And you know what? One day you stand at the sink, coffee cup in hand, gazing out the window at your not-so-little child, and it hits you. While your head has been turned she has blossomed into a strong, vibrant, woman full of wild abandon and possibility. She thrives.

How does my garden grow? I really have no idea, but it is nothing short of miraculous.

Simply Wonderful

What a spectacular Sunday! Temperatures soared above 25 degrees Celsius and the sun deked the splattering of gray overcast. I worked at a charity walk today to raise awareness of the impact of workplace injuries and fatalities ... a bittersweet event ... hope and exuberance tempered by an underlying sadness. Fulfilling.

As I drove up my street the happy bubbles were floating all over the car ... the apple blossoms were in full bloom and the humid air was heavy with their scent. Vivid greens, golds and fuchsia dotted the drive. Don't you think the first flowers of springtime are the best? After the dull browns and gray of a few spartan months, it is revitalizing to witness the return to life; everything awash in technicolour.

The icing on the cake was the bleeding heart in our back yard that was laden with "hearts". A walk about the garden and the pond - turning a blind eye to the healthy crop of dandelions - yields an instance dose of peace; the kind of peace that gives a stillness in the deepest part of myself. Nature has a way of doing that.

All in all - a Sunday to be appreciated and filed under "simply wonderful".

Gotten Tomatoes

There they are ... lined up like little red soldiers, picked right from the vine. Green ones, pink ones, and blood red, ripe tomatoes. This is my favourite part of summer, when we reap the bounty of the growing season. Garden fresh tomatoes are the taste of summer, infused with all of the sunshine, warmth and heat of July. My dad's organic garden yields deeply coloured vegetables of gi-normous proportions (his compost is his special recipe). My tomatoes have more humble origins ... they come from a potted plant.

And the funny thing is, everything in the garden is ready at the same time - a rush and gush of fresh produce, coming faster than anyone could possibly devour it. Feast or famine. Needless to say, our window ledges are strewn with ripening tomatoes, I have been eating them like apples and including them as part of every meal and snack. Guess what? I think I have a canker - from all of those rotten tomatoes I gotten.

Toiling in the Soil

What is it about spending a day on my knees, trowel in gloved hand, digging, mixing and packing moist soil - that brings such peace? The escape and relaxation from gardening is not unlike that which I get from reading a good book. The placement of each fragrant bloom releases a tiny burst of joy that mounts until the planting pot is complete - full to overflowing with colour and perfume. The work of art unveiled.

Today, the sun high in the sky and breezes gentle, was the perfect gardening day. Our salt water pool was crystal clear and beckoned. But to no avail. Hubby and I worked to fill each and every pot, container and empty space with the flowers and herbs we had selected. Once we finished, I sat in the breezy, tranquil gazebo and surveyed the results of our efforts. A large bumble bee (resembling more of a hummingbird than a bee) hovered leisurely above the snapdragon. I inhaled deeply ...

P e a c e.

Maybe working with plants, flowers and soil reminds us of the greater life force to which we belong; of the innate beauty of nature; and above all, is a gentle reminder to look inward for peace and tranquility - that it is found in the small and the quiet -- and not in the grandiose.

Toiling in the soil - just for fun!