Resilience, self-care, coupled with resistance…my sister-in-law(Moore side) has started a “New Resistance” email chain, encouraging folks to write their congressmen on a variety of matters. I agree with her methods, and how she battles on, licking her (and may of our)wounds, preparing to fight another day. And I will do so also as soon as I can get my crashed computer back up and running! Meanwhile, back at the ranch, my begonias are now an icky mess, held on SO LONG this year…oh well, never can seem to save those guys. I did move our dragon plant in much earlier this year and it is thriving! Dropping a few leaves but nothing like the denuded version from last year-thought I had killed it for sure! Thanks again for your words of wisdom and thoughtful consideration!
I'm glad there are people like your sister-in-law, Carolyn, just as I'm glad there are people who are holding meditation sessions in their living rooms. We need them all!
Really sorry to hear about your computer crash. Hope it's an easy fix.
I've had some success with keeping cuttings of dragon wing begonias in water (just an inch or so in the bottom of a glass). I've also had some colossal failures! By dragon plant, do you by chance mean the Devil's Backbone? They do not get along with the cold. Ours have been in the house for well over a month at this point. Speaking of resilient, though, they're hard to do in.
Thanks for reading, Carolyn, as always, and for the fun feedback.
It's always... Wonderfully written and creatively shared... I love the fact that your last paragraph talks about the garden as is.. I have been looking at my garden the same way for a couple of weeks... There are no tomatoes squash cucumbers etc... When they were all taken aside something new appeared... It resembles new grass and sage brush and weeds.... But when I looked closer it was a safe haven for holding my topsoil and nourishing some new and smaller creatures that I saw scurry under my yew shrub... Next spring and summer will have its own celebration again...but right now.. winter claims the fun... I have decided to join in...
Our gardens never really sleep, do they? Sounds like you had some good harvests this year, Barry, and that you're known as a safe haven for so many creatures. I'm not surprised! Thanks for being here.
You captured the very essence of the season. The first hints of winter remind us that spring is almost here again. We need to bear with a little snow and cold as the world resets itself.
Btw, marigolds and sunflowers are my spirit plants, if there is such a thing as
Vigorous plants (and edible!) that have many purposes and make people smile: I can see why you'd be connected to marigolds and sunflowers, Switter. I'm here for the reset, and I'll be ready to plant new seeds when the time is right.
We have one small Purple Cherokee left and perfect to eat right now. Your harvest is amazing! Our geranium never looked more beautiful and now resides in our greenhouse, my Christmas present from Rob last year. The nasturtiums are still so green, and a yellow columbine just gave up. Now we let everything sleep.
Thank you, Suzanne. You'll have to tell me more about that greenhouse. Maybe I can put one on my wish list for a year from now!
There is something so endearing about those last harvests, and the plants that are slow to give in. I hope you enjoy(ed) that Purple Cherokee. One of the best varieties, for sure.
You have such a way with metaphor, both extended and not. I love your ways with language as much as your ideas. I am glad that there are so many ways of responding to our world; it means that others can do what I can't, and I'm grateful for the fruits of their labors. We need some to organize, some to make phone calls, and some to help us make sense of it all. All of them matter. I always appreciate how your words help me understand myself as much as what's happening around me.
Gah - Rita, this is the nicest comment! My sincere thanks. I'm glad there are others doing what we can't, and I'm pretty sure we're doing things they can't. This is how it's meant to be, right? As for finding clarity and understanding, I'm sure I gain from you and others the same or more than I am able to give in return. I think that's what reciprocity is all about... 💚
I don't know if it's how it's meant to be, but I'm sure glad it's how it is. 🙂 Sometimes (OK, a lot of times) I wish I could do other things or that I could do what I do in a bigger, more impactful way, but then I remind myself that it all counts. It all adds up. And that's part of reciprocity, I think.
I’m doing exactly as you’ve suggested. I’m breathing in and completely out. From where I am that’s all I can do for now. I await the call though, much like the seed awaits the call of Spring showers, moderating temperatures and sunshine.
Good for you! Being deliberate about rejuvenating is both wise and admirable, SPW. And I love the comparison to the seed's reemergence when conditions call for it. That's beautiful. Thanks for sharing.
I was secretly hoping you'd like the bits and pieces image, Amy, and it's a high compliment coming from you. Thank you.
I spent longer than I imagined I would (eg: a few days) bringing that one together, but it turned out to be a calming and fulfilling study in thankfulness, using what I could find close to home.
Small steps, deep cleansing breaths. I am singing in an all female chorale ranging in ages from 18 to 72 (me!). It is invigorating and inspiring to be with them, supporting each other, producing strong and beautiful music. We have so much to give to each other!.
I am also excited to support a rural pop-up food bank for those who can't easily get into the larger venue in the closest city. It has, not only food but cleaning supplies, baby supplies, hygiene products, warm clothing and books(!!), donated from the library's book sale supply. Sigh, small steps, deep breaths.
Susan, all of that sounds AMAZING! And you are right that we have so much to give one another. Thank you for adding goodness to your world (and the larger world by extension). And thank you for sharing about it here. Really moving.
It speaks of the possibility of re-growth and that gives such hope, doesn't it.
Despite the fact that we all cut back and bed down for the winter, I'm always of the opinion that nature is still putting forth tendrils of root and the tiniest swelling of bud. Nothing shuts down - which is why I do garden rounds or bush walks, even in the middle of winter.
It's a subtle inspiration for us as well, isn't it? That we too must put out little tendrils here and there, no matter what. (Pointing at me here...)
One thing I didn't know - the marigold petals! Who'd have thought? At the end of this summer, I'll harvest them and store! Thank you.
Such a beautiful comment, Prue, and the thought of putting out tendrils -- little curls of connection and tenacity. Oh, I love that! Garden rounds and bush walks are just the thing.
As for the marigolds, I have a wonderful dehydrator with stainless shelves, to which I added silicone mats to give me the option to dry even tiny flower petals and herbs. It was a treat after my rummage-sale, plastic one melted down, and I have absolutely made good use of it. All that to say, a humid environment might affect the outcome for marigold petals, but there are plenty of online ideas for how to dry them in the oven instead, if you wanted to consider that.
Cheers, friend. And thank you, as always, for your constant support.
The humidity will hopefully die down the closer we get to mid-summer so maybe I can harvest some petals. It will be stove drying for me though - I shall google. Google basically is my permanent aide-de-camp these days.
Your writing is so grounded, double-meaning intended. And grounding, sturdy. Thanks for this post. I'm reminded of a quote that I originally thought was Arther Ashe, then somebody said it wasn't, but I just checked and the internet still says it's Ashe's: "Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can."
We all need some kind of garden. First I need more sunlight; too many trees. May twenty twenty-five be the year of more sunlight, not less; more communion with nature, with each other, with our best selves. In any order.
Much appreciated, Stewart. I realize that gardening is not accessible to everyone, but growing something usually is, whether it's something edible or not.
I'm sure I've written about how the tragedy of a neighbor taking out most of his backyard trees (and subsequently selling the property) has resulted in my much improved ability to grow things that are important to me. There's a metaphor we can all trip over!
As for your wonderful quote, you might enjoy this:
Thanks, Elizabeth. Yes, I do remember the source of your increased sunlight.
So, maybe not Arthur Ashe for that quote? Good ideas, pithily put, are recycled, it seems. Reading the link you sent, I came across an ad for a t-shirt: "Retired: I do what I want, when I want, where I want. See also: not my problem anymore."
I missed this one somehow but it's delightful. Especially now that the view from my desk is a white blanket, with nature's treasures awaiting beneath it. J
Glad you found this in your own time, Janice. And would you believe we are still eating our way through those once-green tomatoes. I would not have believed it possible (or...um...edible), but they have actually been delicious. I think this is a first for me, even after all the years of farming and gardening, having my own tomatoes to eat in January!
In Colorado it was always so perfect for tomatoes right up until the first frost, which generally had us scrambling. This brought back memories of green and every other shade of tomatoes on every surface in my farmhouse. It was the background photo of my catering company business card for a while. They did last a remarkable amount of time! I still seek out Brandywine.
I'd be safe to say we are not enjoying the snow, but the first new plank went on yesterday!
Beautifully written story of resilience and transformation. Thank you for sharing!
Ah, Jeff -- I'm honored. Thanks for taking time to read and comment.
Resilience, self-care, coupled with resistance…my sister-in-law(Moore side) has started a “New Resistance” email chain, encouraging folks to write their congressmen on a variety of matters. I agree with her methods, and how she battles on, licking her (and may of our)wounds, preparing to fight another day. And I will do so also as soon as I can get my crashed computer back up and running! Meanwhile, back at the ranch, my begonias are now an icky mess, held on SO LONG this year…oh well, never can seem to save those guys. I did move our dragon plant in much earlier this year and it is thriving! Dropping a few leaves but nothing like the denuded version from last year-thought I had killed it for sure! Thanks again for your words of wisdom and thoughtful consideration!
I'm glad there are people like your sister-in-law, Carolyn, just as I'm glad there are people who are holding meditation sessions in their living rooms. We need them all!
Really sorry to hear about your computer crash. Hope it's an easy fix.
I've had some success with keeping cuttings of dragon wing begonias in water (just an inch or so in the bottom of a glass). I've also had some colossal failures! By dragon plant, do you by chance mean the Devil's Backbone? They do not get along with the cold. Ours have been in the house for well over a month at this point. Speaking of resilient, though, they're hard to do in.
Thanks for reading, Carolyn, as always, and for the fun feedback.
It's always... Wonderfully written and creatively shared... I love the fact that your last paragraph talks about the garden as is.. I have been looking at my garden the same way for a couple of weeks... There are no tomatoes squash cucumbers etc... When they were all taken aside something new appeared... It resembles new grass and sage brush and weeds.... But when I looked closer it was a safe haven for holding my topsoil and nourishing some new and smaller creatures that I saw scurry under my yew shrub... Next spring and summer will have its own celebration again...but right now.. winter claims the fun... I have decided to join in...
Our gardens never really sleep, do they? Sounds like you had some good harvests this year, Barry, and that you're known as a safe haven for so many creatures. I'm not surprised! Thanks for being here.
You captured the very essence of the season. The first hints of winter remind us that spring is almost here again. We need to bear with a little snow and cold as the world resets itself.
Btw, marigolds and sunflowers are my spirit plants, if there is such a thing as
Vigorous plants (and edible!) that have many purposes and make people smile: I can see why you'd be connected to marigolds and sunflowers, Switter. I'm here for the reset, and I'll be ready to plant new seeds when the time is right.
This is wonderful. Resilience, not resistance.
We have one small Purple Cherokee left and perfect to eat right now. Your harvest is amazing! Our geranium never looked more beautiful and now resides in our greenhouse, my Christmas present from Rob last year. The nasturtiums are still so green, and a yellow columbine just gave up. Now we let everything sleep.
Thanks, Elizabeth. I really enjoyed this one.
Thank you, Suzanne. You'll have to tell me more about that greenhouse. Maybe I can put one on my wish list for a year from now!
There is something so endearing about those last harvests, and the plants that are slow to give in. I hope you enjoy(ed) that Purple Cherokee. One of the best varieties, for sure.
I love your opening quote so much - but thanks for all this.
Sue, if you've not already, do add The Comfort of Crows to you TBR list. It is charming, thought-provoking, and positively filled with quotable lines.
Thank you for being here.
Yes! Just placed a library hold today after reading this. Sounds absolutely just up my street - many cheers, I look forward to reading your posts.
Oh, you’re going to love it! 🥰
You have such a way with metaphor, both extended and not. I love your ways with language as much as your ideas. I am glad that there are so many ways of responding to our world; it means that others can do what I can't, and I'm grateful for the fruits of their labors. We need some to organize, some to make phone calls, and some to help us make sense of it all. All of them matter. I always appreciate how your words help me understand myself as much as what's happening around me.
Gah - Rita, this is the nicest comment! My sincere thanks. I'm glad there are others doing what we can't, and I'm pretty sure we're doing things they can't. This is how it's meant to be, right? As for finding clarity and understanding, I'm sure I gain from you and others the same or more than I am able to give in return. I think that's what reciprocity is all about... 💚
I don't know if it's how it's meant to be, but I'm sure glad it's how it is. 🙂 Sometimes (OK, a lot of times) I wish I could do other things or that I could do what I do in a bigger, more impactful way, but then I remind myself that it all counts. It all adds up. And that's part of reciprocity, I think.
I’m doing exactly as you’ve suggested. I’m breathing in and completely out. From where I am that’s all I can do for now. I await the call though, much like the seed awaits the call of Spring showers, moderating temperatures and sunshine.
Good for you! Being deliberate about rejuvenating is both wise and admirable, SPW. And I love the comparison to the seed's reemergence when conditions call for it. That's beautiful. Thanks for sharing.
"It is a gratitude practice that transports me from myopia to interconnection. I need it."
Beautiful photos in this post, Elizabeth. I especially love the marigold and the flat lay photo of bits and pieces.
I was secretly hoping you'd like the bits and pieces image, Amy, and it's a high compliment coming from you. Thank you.
I spent longer than I imagined I would (eg: a few days) bringing that one together, but it turned out to be a calming and fulfilling study in thankfulness, using what I could find close to home.
It is a lovely image, and I think it is the kind of image that conveys the time and care you spent, too!
Small steps, deep cleansing breaths. I am singing in an all female chorale ranging in ages from 18 to 72 (me!). It is invigorating and inspiring to be with them, supporting each other, producing strong and beautiful music. We have so much to give to each other!.
I am also excited to support a rural pop-up food bank for those who can't easily get into the larger venue in the closest city. It has, not only food but cleaning supplies, baby supplies, hygiene products, warm clothing and books(!!), donated from the library's book sale supply. Sigh, small steps, deep breaths.
Susan, all of that sounds AMAZING! And you are right that we have so much to give one another. Thank you for adding goodness to your world (and the larger world by extension). And thank you for sharing about it here. Really moving.
It speaks of the possibility of re-growth and that gives such hope, doesn't it.
Despite the fact that we all cut back and bed down for the winter, I'm always of the opinion that nature is still putting forth tendrils of root and the tiniest swelling of bud. Nothing shuts down - which is why I do garden rounds or bush walks, even in the middle of winter.
It's a subtle inspiration for us as well, isn't it? That we too must put out little tendrils here and there, no matter what. (Pointing at me here...)
One thing I didn't know - the marigold petals! Who'd have thought? At the end of this summer, I'll harvest them and store! Thank you.
Such a beautiful comment, Prue, and the thought of putting out tendrils -- little curls of connection and tenacity. Oh, I love that! Garden rounds and bush walks are just the thing.
As for the marigolds, I have a wonderful dehydrator with stainless shelves, to which I added silicone mats to give me the option to dry even tiny flower petals and herbs. It was a treat after my rummage-sale, plastic one melted down, and I have absolutely made good use of it. All that to say, a humid environment might affect the outcome for marigold petals, but there are plenty of online ideas for how to dry them in the oven instead, if you wanted to consider that.
Cheers, friend. And thank you, as always, for your constant support.
The humidity will hopefully die down the closer we get to mid-summer so maybe I can harvest some petals. It will be stove drying for me though - I shall google. Google basically is my permanent aide-de-camp these days.
XXXX
Your writing is so grounded, double-meaning intended. And grounding, sturdy. Thanks for this post. I'm reminded of a quote that I originally thought was Arther Ashe, then somebody said it wasn't, but I just checked and the internet still says it's Ashe's: "Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can."
We all need some kind of garden. First I need more sunlight; too many trees. May twenty twenty-five be the year of more sunlight, not less; more communion with nature, with each other, with our best selves. In any order.
Much appreciated, Stewart. I realize that gardening is not accessible to everyone, but growing something usually is, whether it's something edible or not.
I'm sure I've written about how the tragedy of a neighbor taking out most of his backyard trees (and subsequently selling the property) has resulted in my much improved ability to grow things that are important to me. There's a metaphor we can all trip over!
As for your wonderful quote, you might enjoy this:
https://quoteinvestigator.com/2022/12/17/what-you-can/
Thanks, Elizabeth. Yes, I do remember the source of your increased sunlight.
So, maybe not Arthur Ashe for that quote? Good ideas, pithily put, are recycled, it seems. Reading the link you sent, I came across an ad for a t-shirt: "Retired: I do what I want, when I want, where I want. See also: not my problem anymore."
Oh, Elizabeth, this is such a beautiful post, in both words and pictures. What a glorious treat to behold! ❤️
☺️ Thank you for appreciating it, Rebecca -- you with such a keen eye for beauty.
I missed this one somehow but it's delightful. Especially now that the view from my desk is a white blanket, with nature's treasures awaiting beneath it. J
Glad you found this in your own time, Janice. And would you believe we are still eating our way through those once-green tomatoes. I would not have believed it possible (or...um...edible), but they have actually been delicious. I think this is a first for me, even after all the years of farming and gardening, having my own tomatoes to eat in January!
I hope you are enjoying the snow.
In Colorado it was always so perfect for tomatoes right up until the first frost, which generally had us scrambling. This brought back memories of green and every other shade of tomatoes on every surface in my farmhouse. It was the background photo of my catering company business card for a while. They did last a remarkable amount of time! I still seek out Brandywine.
I'd be safe to say we are not enjoying the snow, but the first new plank went on yesterday!
Whoop whoop.