First, I am not complaining that I do not have a romantic partner today. As I look around at my life and surroundings today, I am thankful. I am wrapped in the arms of spirit and nature. The reflection of the sunshine off of the snow brightens my insides.
My gift today—to Mother Nature and to myself–is to clean the birdbath and fill the birdfeeder. I am grateful for the LOVE that surrounds me.
My skiing trips afford me the opportunity to explore our country and its’ trees. Picea engelmannii, Picea pungens, Subalpine fir, cottonwoods and aspen, trees along the mountainsides of Telluride, Colorado.
If one loves nature, loves to learn, every day is an opportunity!
AND–My travel time is a reminder to me that Mother Nature Rules. Just before we arrived in Telluride, Mother dumped two feet of snow on the brown and barren vista! And while in Colorado, New England was pounded with a blizzard. Today, in South Yarmouth, sunny and 50 degrees F.!
If you constantly drill into your brain that what you do in your gardens and landscape is “work” maybe you can fall in love simply by calling it play!
How do adults play? We dance, sing, tell stories, embrace silence. Don’t we have all of these elements in our gardens? Maybe the blossoms dance on the tips of their stems. Sometimes there’s a singing in our hearts as we calm down.
Especially this time of year, I so enjoy sipping on a cup of coffee and surveying the landscape outside my home. I see the stalwart evergreens, manning their posts while their perennial pals are resting for the winter.
There’s plenty of room for change in my landscape and some areas are awaiting any planting while work is done on the house. It’s all very interesting. Compelling.
So often I hear someone say they are “working” on their garden. What about Play? As adults, we are bombarded by the responsibilities and stresses of our world. We need away time–playtime. I want to develop a love affair with my gardens. I am intent on thinking of my landscape more as a playground and less as a worksite.
In my garden playground, I use my vision like an etch-a-sketch—moving this, inserting that, playing with colors, light. fragrance. How much fun is this? There’ll be plenty of time for work later. Today I will fall in love with my garden. I CAN grow this. And I will embrace this chance to play!
What a great day!! I feel my energy returning after days of nursing myself. The sun bathed my skin for what seemed like the first time in a week. And the combination of energy and sun totally lifted my spirits.
I drove to a client’s house to shovel up the last bit of a pile of mulch. Perfect temperature, soft wind, beautiful view—and as I worked so did my mind. That and this, this and that, some needling, complaining—–STOP!
Last night I had attended a brief talk, put on by a local writers’ group, as the speaker was scheduled to talk about creative writing and the value of meditation. Sounded interesting, so I went.
Breath in, breathe out. Mindfulness. Attention. Intention. If even for a minute, here and there, in a day.
As I continued my shoveling I remembered. Be Here Now. Not the past. Not the future. Rest in the simple joy of this moment. The chatter held back.
On the drive home I recalled reading something about a walk, a conservation area, near a school along 6a. On impulse, I slowed and found it! And what a find that place is! Open field, rolling trails, into the woods and around. I had a little fear, being out there alone, I admit. But the cool fresh air and the quiet were blessings. Feeling my body work to climb was invigorating. I already look forward to returning there, exploring it further.
Stopped at a local store, owned by a family who now has several in the area. I like supporting local business. When I went in I saw her familiar face from the other store and she welcomed me. She directed me to what I needed. This is one of the joys of this place called Cape Cod. Familiar faces. Smiling faces.
And now I am home writing about this wonderful day. And enjoying that soup I made yesterday from whatever I found in the refrigerator. Great soup. Great day. Using simple ingredients at hand.
You Can Grow That! January 2013
Last week I was in the vicinity of my dad’s memorial site–Bourne National Cemetery—and I decided to swing in and pay him a visit. As I drove in, I saw many sites decorated with Christmas wreaths and other holiday arrangements. I became aware of a feeling, and wondered what I would find at dad’s plaque site.
There was a simple basket of bark and artificial flowers with bells. How ’bout that. I wasn’t sure who had left them but it made me happy that he hadn’t been left out.
Later I called mom and she told me that she has a standing order with a local florist, for several times a year. I called her today, trying to grasp a word or phrase to describe why she does this, what it means to her. Finally, she decided on connection. Like the river, winding, surging, slowing—She does this to connect with him, though it barely be ashes under a plaque. And the river flows.
Pamela Phipps 