Cherishing Our Gardening Elders

Posted on January 16, 2023 by Ann Lovejoy
Print Friendly, PDF & Email

Carol, living her bucket list but leaving her bucket behind

A Marvelous Role Model

About five years ago, my dear friend Carol decided to emigrate to Panama. A vibrant 88 year old, Carol was one of my life heroes, a wise, kind, thoughtful, smart, engaged, active woman with connections to multiple community groups. Like so many others, I was beyond sad to lose her companionship but thrilled by her example. How courageous to uproot herself after decades in this community and transplant herself into a distant country that doesn’t even have mail service. Actually, that may be part of the attraction; one reason Carol made this move is that she too often felt overwhelmed, angry, horrified and sad about the state of our country. She found Panama to be a lot more peaceful, especially since following US news is more challenging there.

She already had family there and a circle of friends (of course), since she’d made long visits a number of times. In 1917, her winter visit lasted a lot longer than usual. When she returned, she announced cheerfully that she had bought a small house with an attached “casita” for guests or caregivers, should the need arise. Her new community consisted of a number of similar units, a development model that could be extremely successful here as well. Given the lack of affordable housing all over the country, modest, single story homes with built-in ADUs (Accessory Dwelling Units) would sell like trendy doughnuts.

A Legacy Of Tools & Dreams

Carol was an active part of the Friday Tidy gardening volunteers at our local library for years. When she told us of her plans to relocate, we were all a bit shocked but also moved by her courage and positive outlook. Quite a few conversations were sparked by her choices. Would we be as bold and daring as Carol? I wasn’t sure then and I’m still not; so many ties can keep us connected to our long time communities and the change would have to be pretty promising to dislodge me. When it came time for her to leave, she quietly distributed many of her favorite belongings, giving away a fancy pair of hand painted floral clogs here, a lovely jacket there, and wonderful gardening tools everywhere. All of us Tidies still use those tools and we often speak of Carol as we work with them

When the days dwindled and leaving time arrived, we had a party where we did a little gardening then enjoyed a potluck, laughing joyfully and tearing up a bit as we exchanged memories. Our time with Carol was so rich and it seemed like there was always a new side of her to discover. I attended a few other farewell parties thrown by some of her many friends and heard marvelous Carol stories. Many were new to me, and even as I was letting go of her, I was realizing how complex and fascinating a person Carol was, and how little any of us knew of her. Sadly, she died this week, from complications from a recent fall. Joyfully, she died in her own bed, snuggled with her dear companion, a cheerful, pleasant man who adored Carol and brought a lot of pleasure to her final years.

Practicing Appreciation

After Carol left, I thought a lot about how much more I had learned about her just in the last months of her time here. I’ve noticed before that when we meet people in their elder years, we (or at least I) often take them as they seem now and don’t always bother to learn much about how they got to be who they are. I think many, perhaps most lives are more complex than they might appear unless we steer or coax our conversations beyond the surface. After several memorial services in which again I discovered fascinating aspects to lives I thought I knew fairly well, I decided to start a class called Write Your Own Obit. We’ve been offering it at the local Senior Center for years now and it’s always a delightful experience for all participants. Who knows your story better than you?

Along the way, I realized that too many single people have nobody to remember or tell their stories when it’s too late to discover more. That’s why it’s so rewarding to spend a few hours with others, writing our own stories and listening to others as well. When people get stuck, we do a silly exercise where we make up an imaginary life, just for fun, then consider whether anything that came up in that story could be something we might do. I always tell the story about Carol, moving to Panama at the age of 88, and finding five years of new experiences, new friendships, and new love. What do you wish you’d done that you still could? Maybe it really is never too late to make a dream come true.

Posted in Health & Wellbeing, Planting & Transplanting, Sustainable Living | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

Sweetness On The Wind

Posted on January 9, 2023 by Ann Lovejoy
Print Friendly, PDF & Email

Sweet box (Sarcococca) perfumes chilly winter air with tiny blossoms

Spring Cleaning A Little Early

Every day when I walk in my neighborhood, there are changes to notice. Here new buds are swelling on tree branches, there emerging snowdrops begin to open. All along the little pathway into our community, sweet box sends out wafts of vanilla scented perfume, a breath of spring to come. Birds are busy, though no bees have yet appeared (they aren’t stupid, those bees). For fellow gardeners who are eagerly looking forward to winter’s end, here’s a hopeful little countdown:

https://days.to/until/spring

Over the winter break, my grandkids and their parents moved to a more distant community, still close enough to visit but not close enough for the kids to come here after school or when they’re not feeling well and parent need to work. That’s going to take some getting used to for all of us, but to ease the transition, the kids will remain enrolled in their island school through June. That will make for a very long commute, so the whole family will be spending a midweek night a week at my house. My TINY house. Hmmm. The need to find room for four more sleeping spots sparked a refreshing round of early spring cleaning that left me rethinking some of the ways we’ve been using our limited space. While there aren’t a lot of options, there are definitely some things that can be shifted as we make room for this new pattern.

Releasing Old Habits

January is often a time for rethinking our lives, something that’s as useful as getting an annual physical and seeing the dentist. Whether we make formal behavior altering resolutions or not, an annual life review can be a valuable trigger for change and refreshment. However, it can feel discouraging when hoped-for changes don’t come easily. It was long held that it takes about three weeks of daily repetition before any new practice starts to feel normal. Recent research reveals that for most of us, it takes a lot longer than that; the average time needed to adopt a new habit is around 66 days and some of us require closer to a year before a change becomes second nature. Apparently creating a new habit is easier than getting past an old one, though creating a replacement habit (something that can serve the same purpose) can help.

That might mean starting a meal with a bowl of salad before serving the main entree, putting a little bowl full of smooth stones to fiddle with instead of plunking a bowl of snacks at our side, or as one of my neighbors is trying, singing a song instead of smoking a cigarette. (Lots of tuneful moments around here lately!) Whichever way we’re trying to shift, towards or away from something we’re used to, the bigger the change, the longer the adjustment period may be. Laying off the chocolate for a week may not be too tough, since recent news about all those heavy metal residues in chocolate might be a bit of a deterrent. Try quitting smoking after decades, like my striving neighbor, and see how painfully slowly the longing dissipates. And these are small things, really; try getting used to being a widow, or losing your job, or your home. Or your country. Or your culture. Adapting to changes like these require some serious effort, and it can feel fake or silly to try to be grateful in dark and dangerous circumstances. But. However. And yet.

Doing What Works

Support groups for addicts of various stripes have a common saying: “Addiction is finding something that works and not doing it.” It can be hard to tell if we are actually willing to change or not quite ready, but that saying captures the essence. If we are really ready to give up stuckness and despair, then we will really commit to working for change, personally and publicly. To truly change on a personal level, we need to alter our brains, because entrenched behaviors create neural pathways that require multiple exposures to a desired new way of being. Practice. Persistence. And more practice. For me, the worst addiction is to doom scrolling, getting caught up in the horrible daily direness and letting it take me down to the depths of despair. Ack! What is the good of that?

The world does NOT need any more depressed, anxious people and I don’t want to contribute to more negativity. Instead, I keep working on the practice of gratitude. You’d think it would come natural to humans, and maybe it does, but with so little cultural support, our natural gratitude can get lost under the load of woe and worry. To get myself out of that sorrowful rut, I learned to write down my gratitudes, to speak them out loud as I wash dishes, bake bread, make the bed. I speak gratitudes as I walk; Look at those clouds, thank you! Gorgeous effect of sunlight in mist, thank you. Love the bird, thank you. Awesome clean hot water, thank you. The you you thank may not be the same as mine but that doesn’t matter. Thanking does. Let us persist in gratefulness together.

Let’s Build A Brighter World

Every act is an act of hope, really. Sometimes doing the hard thing because it’s the right thing to do feels thankless, yet once it’s done, it often rewards us with a heartening sense of both gratitude and hope. Gratitude that we are willing to do what needs doing and hope that each time, we move the community, the culture, the country, the world a tiny bit further along the path towards the light. A friend recently spoke about an occasion when she was able to bring the beginning of reconciliation between a Sovereign Nation Tribe and a nearby community where unconscionable wrong had been done without repercussion for the wrongdoer. That kind of work is lengthy and complex, requiring a deep knowledge of human nature and a strong moral compass. While it isn’t given to most of us to change the world in big, sweeping ways, any of us may be called and able to work for positive change in our own small place in the world. Onward, right? And maybe upward too…

 

Posted in Care & Feeding, Health & Wellbeing, Social Justice, Sustainable Living | Tagged , , , | 8 Comments

When Weather Wins

Posted on December 27, 2022 by Ann Lovejoy
Print Friendly, PDF & Email

A few stray blooms amid the snow and ice

Holidays Happen When They Happen

After a week of snowy gardens and icy roads, the rain comes as a very welcome relief. After stir crazy days of not being able to safely take a step outside without slipping, just walking peacefully in the gentle drizzle feels like a lovely luxury. Though various weather events once again prevented our family Solstice and Christmas celebrations, everything remains ready for the time when we actually do get together as a family. For now, there’s lots of gleaning to do, especially of firewood; broken branches are everywhere, even here in town. My tucked-away little neighborhood is littered with blow down from the recent wind storms, which also scattered fir cones by the thousands. The roof is not far away in a vintage mobile home, and the fir cone barrage just a few feet above our heads woke us up with a start each time the wild winds roared through.

As the ice melts off, the birds are thrilled to be able to find seeds and bugs again, tossing leaves and shreds of former flowers about as they hunt for tidbits. As I pulled out spent kale and broccoli plants, robins fluttered down to find sleepy worms left exposed by my uprooting. Usually I leave the greens a lot longer, but this year, the wild swings of temperature, drought and moisture left plants unusually vulnerable to pests. As I tugged up the tilting plants, whiteflies scattered like tiny snowflakes from the tattered foliage, which was already studded with eggs. Little flocks of chickadees were on it in a flash, hopping cheerfully about and gobbling down the pesky whiteflies with relish. To give the garden plot a rest, I’ll plant more herbs to make a pollinator patch that won’t offer whitefly or cabbage moths any support. Lavender and bee balm, chives and dill, cilantro and rosemary, catnip and catmint, thyme and basil are all beneficial for lots of pollinators and repellant to whitefly, besides being beautiful, fragrant and useful.

Vanilla Sweetgrass

I’m also making room to develop a patch of sweetgrass, which is or used to be native here, among many other places. I’m seeking starts to make a little colony which I’ll be able to share as the clumps spread. Native gatherers pull tufts from the outside of thriving clumps, a practice which has been shown to stimulate new growth in sweetgrass. That’s not too surprising, as it’s also a good way to get many types of clumping grasses and various ground cover plants to proliferate; tug off bits of New Zealand Brass Buttons or Creeping Jenny, etc. and replant them elsewhere, and the original plant will soon thicken up and spread once again, even as the new plantings do the same thing.

Once my sweetgrass patch settles in, I’ll be able to share starts with basketmakers from my Suquamish Tribal neighbors, who can put the silky strands to good use. That plot’s still in the dream stage but I’m enjoying clearing the way for a healing and useful crop by removing the weary and refreshing the soil with compost. I’m leaving mats of various oreganos in place, removing the excess bits that are tumbling into the pathway and planting them into street-side beds that are available to passersby as well as bees and bugs. The catmint can be divided too, again pulling off outside bits and resetting them a good three feet apart. Pulling up sodden lily stems, I found a generous handful of plump bulblets which were also tucked into new homes. Clumps of chives are also easily multiplied and dotted about where the blossoms will be appreciated by pollinators and people. I also planted some of the plumpest cloves from this year’s garlic harvest, as the bigger the clove, the larger the heads tend to be, and planting garlic around the Solstice is a long standing tradition in many places.

Tussie Mussie Making

For decades, I’ve searched my gardens at year’s end, hunting for surviving blossoms and buds. The recent ice and sleet reduced the number of candidates but as always, a few brave buds may be found in sheltered spots. When the supply is bountiful, it’s fun to make little tussie mussie bundles to share with neighbors and friends. When only a few oddments are available, as they are this year, I eke them out with colorful Liquidambar leaves which I find in profusion under melting snow piles. Dusky purple hydrangea leaves also make good backdrops, as do hardy geraniums gleaned from a nearby sheltered porch. A tiny rosebud, a last blossom of River Lily (Schizostylis), a lone calendula, a sprig of feverfew, all gain importance when nestled into a frill of kale or a velvety red maple leaf. I tie my little bundles with coppery strands of Pheasant Tail grass and leave them on porches, as they last much longer in the cool moist air outside.

This quiet pause as one year trickles away and a new one approaches has always been a favorite time of year for me, and not because of the holidays, really. Yes, the skies are low and grey, the days brief and dim, the nights long and dark, yet now the darkest hour is past. Each day is already a little longer, just a few seconds more at first, then minutes, stretching steadily into hours of warmth and daylight that contrast beautifully with this chilly grey stillness, woolly with clouds and fog. This contrast and many others are great fuel for gratitude, or so I find, more and more with each passing year. Onward, right?

Posted in Annual Color, Birds In The Garden, Care & Feeding, fall/winter crops, Hardy Herbs, Health & Wellbeing, pests and pesticides, Plant Partnerships, Planting & Transplanting, Pollination Gardens, Pollinators, Soil, Sustainable Gardening, Sustainable Living | Tagged , , | 8 Comments

Solstice Snow & Holiday Baking

Posted on December 20, 2022 by Ann Lovejoy
Print Friendly, PDF & Email

Hummingbirds are still feeding on the Fatsia

The Joys Of Discovery

As a child, I found snow enchanting. Overnight, everyday landscapes transformed into mysterious lumps and bumps, tree branches laden with a blanket of frosting, smooth and glossy. Walking in the hushed woods, the only sounds were the scrunching of my feet and the song and scrabble of busy birds and squirrels hunting for a meal. These days, snow is still beautiful to me, especially when it falls in fluffy, feathery clumps. The cats are mesmerized, staring out the windows and muttering ‘mrrt mrrt’ as the fat flakes fall. The neighborhood children are delighted too, especially our newest neighbors, 8 year old twin boys. They grew up in Venezuela, then the family was granted political asylum in the US and sent to Florida, where they found the rampant racism discouraging. Moving here this summer, the children never saw snow before. The chilly air is ringing with their delighted shouts and shrieks as they learn to make snowballs and sled down our icy (closed to traffic) street.

Since the power is still on, it’s the perfect day to do some holiday baking, especially since my family poll turned up five different requests for favorites. Shortbread rounds (plain for my daughter-in-love and double chocolate for my son), oatmeal chocolate chip for my grandson, soft molasses chewies for my granddaughter, and gingerbread cake with lemon glaze for my daughter. After years of making lumpy shortbreads, I discovered that thick cardboard towel tubes, cut to about 15 inches long and split lengthwise, keep the rolled and wrapped dough logs perfectly cylindrical. Just keep the tubes tightly closed with a couple of fat rubber bands and once chilled, the logs will slice easily. However, I still struggled to slice them precisely so they cook evenly until this morning, when I had a brain wave and stuck my knitting guide under the transparent cutting sheet. Thank you Susan Bates!

Making Holidays When We Can

I’m loving this bounteous bout of holiday baking, even though it’s doubtful that our family will be able to join us for our Solstice bonfire. This is the third year in a row that our holiday plans have been disrupted by weather and disease and it probably won’t be the last. Rather than pin hopes on a certain day or time, I’m learning to celebrate when we’re together, regardless of the date. For now, I’m filling the freezer with cookies, making space by finding all sorts of things that can be moved on by the transformational experience of composting. I’ve been hoarding wood for our Solstice bonfire, which offers another, emotional kind of transformation. Birch branches dropped by local trees and blown-down fir boughs have been drying in our little sunporch all summer, and I even shelled out a ridiculous amount of cash for a small bundle or actual chunks of wood, just to make sure the fire persists long enough to work its magic.

Now that we’re living in a mobile home park with tiny house lots, our usual grand bonfire is reduced to a little fire bowl, but fire is fire. The flames, of whatever size, can carry our hopes and wishes to the stars and consign anything we want to be done with to ashes. We will write or draw or paint our petitions on something flammable, paper or sheets of birch bark, usually, adding fragrant stalks, dried herbs, and flower petals to sweeten the deal and scent the flames. Watching a year of hope and worry go up in smoke is always satisfying, even if I don’t see much immediate evidence of efficacy. As a gardener, I think about the mystery of seeds, how some sprout quickly and others may take months or even years to appear, waiting until their required conditions are met and the time is right. We don’t always know what we sow or if or when it might sprout, but Gaia Mom never wastes anything. Onward, right?

 

Posted in Birds In The Garden, Care & Feeding, composting, Health & Wellbeing, Sustainable Gardening, Sustainable Living | Tagged , | 10 Comments