Come walk with me in the sunshine, distant memories of warmth on our faces. Fingers no longer cold, layers no longer needed. Winter's icy tentacles loosened, grasp slipping
Watch it sent back in despair to a dark and dismal cave, fit only for the cold beast. Spring step forward in Winter's place, let us greet you with wonder, dance with us among the new purple crocus.
You know when you've not been yourself, and you start to feel a bit better? So you are inspired to go and do something, and it feels so good to do anything at all, that you kind of over do it?
Even when the little voice inside of your head says… "don't do that, you're going to be sorry." And even though you know for certain that the next day you are going to pay for it, but you just don't care?
Because the sun is shining, and there are honest to goodness green things coming up between the dead leaves.
And that feathered bulge on the branch might even be a Robin singing it's heart out.
You have to do something, and it's not gardening if you just wander around the yard is it?
So you go and do what you are not supposed to be doing.
Which is gardening.
But you lie to yourself, telling that inner voice,"I'm not raking, I'm just…planning."
Yes planning the garden.
That's what I am doing. Not planting. Nope, oh no not me…just moving this teeny tiny little plant a wee bit over. Because I'm planning.
The garden.
With that you squish the teeny tiny voice in your head like a bug. And you tell it," I'm not bending, not me." "I'm…well, I'm squatting." "It's squats…millions of people do those all the time." "Some of them actually like it, and now I know why." You tell the squeaky little voice in your head,"I kind of like exercise, everything is going to be fine."
And then you wake up the next morning.
You can't move. And everything hurts, things you didn't know could hurt, do.
Blame it on the squeaky little voice who should have known better, and the squats.
Because YOU, weren't gardening. I'm going to wait until next week to unpack those boxes at www.thelightlaughed.com I haven't moved over there just yet.
I still love being Jane@Muddy Boot Dreams, so for now I will be keeping my social media sites the way they are, and using the new name for the blog until things get organized.
Spring! It’s undeniably happening around here, there are signs everywhere. Flashes of pink, shots of green, streaks of sunlight. Today it’s more rain, but we know that March would go out like a lion. And April is coming in with a passion. Speaks Everywhere I go, there is another sign, the super hot pink Magnolias near the veggie store are bursting with secrets, looking like pink elephant popcorn on a stick. The Boo is spooked by the merest whisper of wind, and runs with his tail up, pure joy in his motions. And yes, he is slightly lighter in his step, the diet is working. Silence That’s why sometimes it’s good to just be still for a moment. And let spring speak to you. Do you hear it?
Bright lime colored garden clogs clip along the path wondering where the snow went so suddenly. No more slipping, cold feet, spring is a delight. Cat drifts between my legs, playful, warming black, skittish in the sun. Sniffs deep of something mysterious, dirt scattered high, rolling in the dry gardens under the pine.
Birds swoop by, waving hair, seed scattered on the ground feverishly pecked. Unwelcome Crows caw in the trees, territorial, new, jangling the neighborhood. The mind planning, sunning, thinking, reminding. No twisting, no weights lifted, stretch in the warm sun. Not the time for gardener's boot camp. Patience that those weeks of moving tender shoots, and scattering of seeds will wait until later. Try my patience, turn my resolve. This gardener yearns to plant. To think.
To dream of fashioning something beautiful out of nothing, with dry soil, and tiny seeds.
Trees burst overnight with buds. Swelling not just in bodies. Weeds appear to laugh at efforts to shake them free with feet, determined to stay, and thrive. Cat crouches, furry bottom wiggles, streaks across the lawn, birds scatter. Children's laughter drifts behind him across the grass. Weeds still remain.
For now. Plot, dream, wander. Through garden beds. Weeks will run, time will out, the garden will still be there. Sun warm, fingernails dirty, trowel in hand, it will wait. Time will heal,the garden is impatient. And so am I.
Jane@Muddy Boot Dreams On a Wednesday: Slivers of moments captured in a weekly post, evolving, descriptive, a memoir of life.
PS: A big thank you for your supportive, and understanding comments, it's been a journey, but I am hopeful that things will get back to normal as my back heals. And yes, my fingers are itching to get back into the garden, but that has to wait a little while.
You know the phrase, into every life, a little rain must fall? It seems like we are getting our share of wet right now. The downward turn in the economy is hitting us just like everyone else. Between cutbacks, and job losses many of us are feeling the pinch. It won't last forever, I know that.
But I am hoping that these"spring rains," will result in a more beautiful garden. We will weather the storm.
After all, what is a garden without rain? And how are you going to know the good times, if you never experience the bad?
Spring hides in the curve of the crocus, it quivers in the branches of the pussy willows as they move in the cool breeze. It lurks in the dried parchment husks covering the daffodils before they bloom. Spring is released from the trumpets of the narcissi's as they open and immediately flits to the cherry blossoms to bestow a kiss. Spring wades through the blue grape muscari, drinking nectar from their rounded cups. Spring waits for the perfect moment, and when the lilac first blooms it alights and set off a galaxy of fragrance. Spring dances in the sunlight’s diamonds, water drops that coat the grass. Catches a ride on the furry paws of the cats as they go on their morning rambles. Spring dances in the flowers that bend towards the light. Spring celebrates life.
Rustling birds disturbed by progress down the rural road fly by, flicking from branch to branch. Soon there will be nests, eggs and chicks. Life moving in circles.
My heart swells when I see the mountains bearing less snow, spring is arriving. Bleeding hearts, red stems shaded, cold, but determined to grow through the soil.
Pink blossoms give me a heart shaped thrill. Ferns unfurling, hairy, and brown, green hidden deep, soon to show. Hosta striped stems swirl from the ground, poking, pushing. Buds breaking, no spilled tears. Branches ripening, reviving.
Come spring! Come warm weather! Leave, snow covering the brooding mountains. Bring shine, and laughter to our world. Reach deep into my gardener's heart, and make it swell. PS: If spring has not reached your part of the world, I will send a wish that it will come soon.
I wrote and scheduled this post last week, and completely to my Gardener's embarrassment forgot that it was the first day of spring today. There's a pretty good reason why, and I will be sharing that along with a few other things on Monday's post, see you then.
The other afternoon we heard a screeching outside, rough and ragged, shrill. It went on for a few minutes. The crows must be mad at Bootsie, I remember telling Gar. They sure are giving him heck. And they sound like they are recovering from Laryngitis.
Then just yesterday when I was busy at my drafting desk, I heard the same shrill screeching. Out on the branches of the giant Rhody were a pair of brilliant blue Steller's Jays. Busy telling everyone in earshot how upset they were that we did not include peanuts in our contraband birdseed. I guess they felt that the buffet was just not up to their standards, since they never stuck around long enough for me to grab the camera. They seem to be coming and going, a little camera shy, but loud, very badly behaved tourists, finishing up their winter vacation in White Rock. I've got to send Gar out to get some peanuts, or whatever these picky eaters prefer. Somehow I am sure that I would not want to be in the kitchen when they send back the meal.
OK, here is a gardening question for you. How many pairs of garden gloves can you find in your home, right now? Do they match? Do you know where they all are? Do you have any idea where over 10 pairs of mine have gone in the last few years? Do you believe that I have no idea where they are? I mean honestly, I have bought over 10 pairs of rather expensive gardening gloves, and I am down to one pair and a single left handed glove.
Where do they go? Do they go to the same place that mismatched socks disappear to? The Bermuda Triangle of gardening gloves? Would the lost garden clippers, and tools be hanging out there also? If you have the answer, can you tell Amelia Earhart to bring them back, because some folk think that she might be hanging out in the Bermuda Triangle also. And maybe she collects lost pairs of gardening gloves.
Winter has returned to the dark hole it hibernates in to avoid the other seasons, the snow is nearly gone.
It feels as if it was never here. Invigorated by the warm breeze, we, and I use the term we loosely, had just finished raking the entire yard. And surveyed the cleaned up brown patches flecked with emerging green with a sense of accomplishment. One item ticked off of the spring cleanup list. A hour later the wind rose up in a fury.
Gust swayed the tall Fir trees, cracking branches with a terrible bangs, blowing dust, gusting from every direction. The tidy landscape changed to a full on scattering of enormously long branches impaling the soft ground as they fell from 40 feet up. Too dangerous to stay outside we retreated inside. And watched with dismay as all of our hard work was undone.
We were out there too soon, and have to cleanup once again. We could view it as a chore, something that had to be done, reversed in a matter of hours. But in that sweet moment we were living life, the warmth of sunshine on our pale seasonal skin, air fresh in our lungs as we called out to neighbors walking by. The breeze mingling in the strands of our hair, jackets thrown to the ground, green blades of grass revealed with each raking, that moment can't be taken away from us. Laura at Simple Serene Living wrote a encouraging post about bookmarking life, living the moment as it comes. It made my heart sing, and it was a good reminder, despite our best intentions, we sometimes rush through life, missing moments when they come by. Being outside in the spring sun, that was a"bookmarked" moment that made the work worth while, despite the outcome. Do you find yourself rushing, ticking off items on your to do list, or do you tend to live each moment as it comes? I think it's truly hard to keep living in the moment, but oh, when you do…it's sublime.
PS:
My move to Word Press, and a new URL, is on the back burner for the next little while. That's OK, because thanks to Brenda at Cosy Little House, I just figured out how to resize my images properly, so I will have some time to practice. Like the spring storm, life can have a way of throwing things at you. You have to be able to move with it, stay flexible, and move forward, so that's what I'm doing here. The new URL will go live, just not this week, or maybe not the next week either. I'll make sure to let you know what to expect when we are once again, closer to that date. For now I am encouraging you to live those fleeting moments, things change rapidly in life. More PS's: Have you checked out our The Over 40 Blogging World facebook group? If you are over 40, it's a wonderful place to hang out with fellow bloggers who are supportive, and passionate about blogging. And…one last thing. My World Wednesday isn't on for this week, look for my next post on Friday, see you then.
It’s lacking in subtly…
The ground bares it’s dark grin from under the trees.
Opens it’s mouth to show the slow decaying of the snow.
Fields patchy with pearly white, speckles of winter, fir needles, dust, fallen branches. Pretending to be open and honest, but hiding ground h ardened with ice, rocks unmovable, abandon the rake for today. Foolish gardener, dragging out tools, gloves, and hope. A long winters rest soon to be broken, but today, no fingers in the dirt.
Sun warms the skin, breeze cools it down, walk it off.
Forecast that varies from day to day, inaccurate by so many degrees no one pays attention to it anymore. Winter jacket, scarf, gloves one day, change to t-shirt, tank tops, shorts the next.
Bare winter white legs, not yours, glowing like florescent worms, blinding eyes, sunglasses needed, and not just for the sun. Can’t see where you are walking, don’t fall off of the road.
Dogs frolic at gates, when only last week they chased snow from the blower. Watch where you walk, roadside messes, no one picks up after them. Stinking treasures long hidden under melting snow.
Birds fly, worms in mouth, stark branches easy to perch on.
Stock up, there’s a sale on twigs, and there are nests to be built.
Pairing off, deciding who’s to stay home with the chicks, and who will go out and work.
Trees feel a stirring deep in their roots, sap warms and migrates. Buds swell with the increased light.
Snow still hides new shoots of grass, ice coats shaded ditches while water melts, and runs in full sun.
Black bird clinging to bull rush sings such a haunting melody you cannot help but stop and listen, twined among the heart, tugging so softly it’s ages before you realize it’s stopped. Play that again you ask, and he does, it’s as beautiful as you remembered, he does well at Natures version of the dating game.
Floating whispers of fuzz from deconstructed cat tails line a nest, pulled by a bird so small it hardly shows up. Massive in attention to detail, only the softest parts for it’s new nursery.
Sheep watch from across the field, the ram at full attention, it’s his flock, and you are the interloper. Go away, nothing to see here he tells you, unfriendly woolly creature not at all like Mary’s little lamb.
Cows, milk chocolate, and dark brown, stare out of the door of the red barn, languidly chewing cud. The smell of manure fresh on the air, pungent is too soft a description for it’s strength after a long winter inside.
No muskrat available to come for tea in the stream today. Woodpecker drills new holes in the poplars that hang out by the stream. Pussy willows soft grey cushions, just out of reach of finger tips, icy slopes make wet feet less appealing.
Horses stand, three down, fourth up, no tipping over here, sleepy, ignoring your sweet nothings, no food in your hand, go home.
The long stretch of road that leads to home, fields of farm animals on one side, golden grain to be grown on the other. Chicken barns reflect the light from the mountains, eagles watching for clean out days from the park nearby.
Walk the last few blocks slowly, make them last as long as possible… acknowledge the sun, smell the scent of spring, feel a deep stirring in the soul.
It’s spring, and it’s calling to you.
“Life is lived forward, but understood backwards.”
Kierkegaard
It seemed so small when I first brought it home, almost spindly. It fit in my little Honda Civic hatchback, and I think it was only in a 5 gallon pot. I was in love, deeply, dearly, in love. I had researched it’s beautiful foliage ranging from copper, and auburn, to golden yellows. My Parrotia persica,[ Persian Ironwood tree], was to be the cornerstone of my little condo deck garden. In my mind it would be gracefully shading the ferns, and it’s arching branches would spread carefully, but not invasively. It would grow happily until I found the perfect house, and then it would easily move to my new garden.
The harsh reality is this tree has outgrown every pot available to it. It is now squished into a half oak barrel, and hating every moment. It’s time to find a new home for my beloved Parrotia tree, and that’s where things start to get difficult. We need to find three strong men, just to pick up this tree. And it will be a challenge to transfer it to the top of the brick half wall that surrounds the patio, and then carefully load it onto a dolly. All the time, not damaging the branches that have determinedly grown past the floor of the condo above us. That is over 15 feet. I am not sure that three strong men will be enough. Will the brick wall hold? Will they damage the tree? Will I be able to wave goodbye to my baby? A garden should always be a work in progress. We learn from our mistakes challenges, and are always looking forward to the next interesting development. My biggest mistake was thinking that a tree growing to 50 feet tall, and 30 feet wide, would fit into a small pot forever. And when the realization came that it was outgrowing it’s pot, not doing something about it. After all, I’m a gardener, I should have known better!
So now I must search out at least three strong men, sweet talk them into a forming a impromptu moving crew, all the while begging them not to damage the branches. Because my baby needs a new home, and I need to get out there house hunting. Jane.
.
Although we are in the month of March, and daylight savings time has come to us, spring seems to be in limbo.
Back east, they are celebrating with warmer than average temperatures, signs of green, and snow melting. Here on the West Coast, we are bracing for a freezing -7 overnight cold spell.
This is not the way it is supposed to be. We are the ones who get the warm spring, not them. We are the ones who send the pictures of golfing in our shorts, it is us who get to show the daffodils first. Spring come out, come out, where ever you are. Our crocus are up, the snowdrops are still hovering over the frozen soil, the sun is shining, alternately it is hailing, or snowing. As I write this, it is both sunny, and flakes of snow are drifting down. Spring please come out of hiding, we need to see you.
![How [ not ] to start seeds.](http://lh3.ggpht.com/_VM317Cpay14/S5W5AnOTAoI/AAAAAAAAW30/rkXdCwlsbqg/2010%2003%2004%20036_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg)
Spring is around the corner for many gardeners, and it is almost time to start seeds again. Some gardeners have the appropriate full spectrum lights, and garden benches available to them. And the key component, a spot to grow them in.
Those gardeners who live in smaller spaces, such as apartments, and condos, might appreciate some tongue in cheek, helpful tips on how to[not]start their seeds, in order to avoid the disasters that we encountered last year.
1. Don’t think that you will get a head start by seeding early, I mean really what was I thinking, two foot tall sunflower seedlings on a 4 inch wide window sill? In early March? They couldn’t go out until May, and that was only after the unusually heavy snowfall finally disappeared.
2. Yes the cat really does think that seed trays are meant to be his litter box. Basically anything that is on the floor, and has dirt in it is his domain.
3. Beautifully pooled curtains are only lovely in a magazine, especially after your husband tries to close the drapes, and drags them through the seed trays you have placed beside the patio windows. Nothing sadder than poor little beheaded cosmos. And no, they don’t grow back again.
4. Make sure you get the waterproof seed trays, the carpet is still soggy after we watered the last time.
5. Take away all the cat toys, until you are ready to move the seed trays outside, somehow playing a round of “bat the ball” in the seed trays didn’t improve germination.
6. Plant misters make good deterrents to kitties who want to scratch the couch.
7. Imagine that you have a green house, and acreage. Then go wild in the nearest nursery and pretend that you grew it all yourself. You will thank me, when you realize how much easier it is to buy, then to grow your own.
Where I live now there are more piles of snow dotting the landscape then there are patches of grass. We expect snow in Winter, but when it hangs on too long there are some pretty antsy gardeners.
My well meaning friends back where I used to live are sending me photos, and telling me that spring is 6 weeks early, when it seems that mine is later then ever. Have you ever been in this situation? Every time you get a email it's someone s haring sprouted green leaves, and avenues of Cherry trees dripping with blossoms. Meanwhile the only thing dripping at your place is your nose. Nothing can make you ooze sap faster then a pruned rose bush in May then photos arriving on your ice cold computer in March. Lush blossoms sprinkling the virtual page, when all around you are bare, dark branches and patches of snow. It's not that we don't love the photos…it's the sentiments attached, they seem a little thorny, spiking jealousy in our gardener's hearts. Here's my list of top 5 things not to say to gardeners with sodden, frozen, soil, hidden under a avalanche of snow at this time of year. After all, I should know, at one time I was one of those obnoxious gardeners who sent friends pictures of snow drops in January, and look where I live now. Talk about garden karma. 1. Spring will come to your place eventually, did you know that ours is earlier each year? 2. Shall I send more photos to make up for your long winter? 3. You can garden inside can't you, start some seeds, you can plant them outside in a few months. 4. You could take up crocheting, all gardeners love to crochet. 5. I'm sure there are nice greenhouses where you live, you can visit them until spring comes along. Oh yes, as soon as they plow the driveways, and shovel the snow. Or maybe I can take the huskies, and the dogsled out for a run. No, really, stop making us envy you spring will come to us, just stop rubbing it in. To pass the time until spring arrives, check out the new Facebook group that Laura, from Simple Serene Living and I have created. The Over 40 Blogging World is a FB group for woman bloggers providing positive support for each other no matter how big, or small their blogs are, or which platform they use. It's a fun group, and we would love to see you there.
We'll have virtual, calorie free cupcakes too! Chocolate, and vanilla. PS, just a reminder I'm moving my blog this week, so expect a few glitches.
I'll still be the same blogger, showing my photos, weaving my stories, it will just be at Word Press, and under a new name www.thelightlaughed.com. You can read about the change here.
I'd would love to have you come along as the journey continues.
Pink I think…
It takes patience to walk with a spring loving gardener equipped with a camera. We only walk a few paces before I suddenly stop, and peer into what seems like a pile of dirt to a non-gardener. Not realizing I have found a treasure, they sometimes continue onwards, only to find they have left me behind. On a beautiful day, there are disjointed conversations, because it seems we only get a few feet, before something else catches my eye.
For me it is a absolute treat it is to find willing subjects just perching on the dark soil. Lazy heads nodding in the slight spring breeze. Cheery yellow faces, glowing in the sun.
Finally something colorful to photograph, no more somber browns, and gray textures. Small splashes of color, that request a audience with my camera. No, they do not request, they demand. I am loathe to leave them, and only do when another catches my eye.
My husband, has extraordinary patience with me. Always willing to stop, and take the time to look at my treasures. I try to take the photos as quickly as I can, but I get caught up in the moment. Greedily drinking in these first brave flowers. Happy in the knowledge that spring has kept it’s promise, and returned to us once again.
I think that I need a gardeners"Roundtoit" widget, but I don't know where you can get one. I have heard many other gardeners say that they need to get a"roundtoit". For those of you who are wondering what a widget is, don't ask me? I haven't got a"roundtoit" widget, so I can't look up what a widget is. It's a vicious circle. Trust me. I have all these tasks to be done out there, and in here, and maybe a"roundtoit" widget will help.
Take the seeds, nice collection right? Well they look lovely sitting in a pile on the floor, and now it is March. There is a reason that they are not seeded yet, I don't have the room, maybe I can get a"whenwegetthespace" widget, and put that on my blog. Along with the"roundtoit" widget. Think of all the tasks I could accomplish with these widgets. Now if I could only find someone making a"gotoworkforme" widget…
Once upon a time I wrote a blog post about how hurt I was when a friend reprimanded me for calling my over 200 plants in containers a garden. “That’s not a garden,” she said. I didn’t agree then, and I still don’t agree. She might have had 5 acres of grass, with huge garden beds, compared to my stretch of patio, but I still consider mine a true garden. To me, and obviously many others that garden, any small container can hold a garden. What defines a garden? What makes one a gardener? Can we consider it a real garden when you walk not on the soil, but on concrete? If you don’t water with a hose, but with a plastic can, is it still gardening? If you don’t own pruners are you still a gardener? If it is only indoors, does that exclude it? Does one cherished plant on a windowsill, in a city apartment make you a gardener if you so wish to call yourself one? Yes, it does. Gardening is from the heart. It is defined by your rules, your choices, and your circumstances. And certainly not the whims of others. So garden as you wish, be it a small pot, or a large lot. For you are a gardener when you love plants in your heart. And we would have it no other way.
