Of Gardens and Gardening

I found this passage in the book, People With Dirty Hands, and it's been such a comfort:

"Could I see your garden?" I ask.

"Maybe in the spring," he says......I have two fifty-by-one-hundred-foot plots and my wife complains that they're not pretty at all. It's just in rows, everything, my flowers, my vegetables..."

"It sounds like my garden," I say. "It doesn't look like much of anything. And by August it's full of weeds."

"And that's okay," Rick says heatedly. "People don't seem to understand that amending the soil and all that--you don't have to do that stuff. If by July, it's too hot to sow successive crops and you don't care anymore--that's okay. A lot of years in August, I look forward to the first frost. So what? ..."

"Me, too," I say. "So what is it about gardening?"

"It's a meditation," Rick says. "I don't think, necessarily, when I'm gardening. I have an active mind and I'm always talking, talking and thinking. In the garden, I'm not. I'm a much more relaxed gardener than anyone I know. I grow it for my own edification, and that's all."


Love that. The whole thing is me to a T (as they say). Right now I'm passionately puttering in my garden, rearranging plants, planting seeds in containers on my little deck out there, snipping banana peels and apples and placing them in rings beneath the soil at the base of plants. And I'm putting down borders, some wooden ones, some plastic, and scratching the earth, pulling weeds and watering, staking, and even walking the rows, checking things in the rain. It feels like playing on a playground and being ten all over.

But come August? Eh. The passion will be gone. It leaves then and I've always felt guilty about that, not to mention I often feel a bit uncomfortable that my gardens seldom resemble everyone else's. Mine look, well, different, usually like a huge viney catastrophe.

But no more will I feel that way. My garden is my garden and it can look and be anything I want it to be. I can learn from it, meditate within it and stare at it while it grows and then walk away when I tire of it -- and start all over again next Spring. Because it is mine.

And that, my friends, is one huge load off of my own tired ol' gardener's shoulders.

****

And for me, this 'philosophy' carries over into other areas of Life as well. You may want to think about it awhile.


*****

Uh-Oh. August.

There's a reason I've been perturbed about all this humidity causing me to lose days working out in my yard.

August is coming.

And uh-oh, if you've read here long, you may remember what that means, namely, when August arrives I always peer at whatever garden or flower beds I've created and say, "Eh. You can rot for all I care. You make me tired. I'm so over you."

Yes, really--I do that. By August, I'll have moved on to reading or coupons or stocking-up groceries for Winter. Something, anything other than working in the soil out in additional weeks of heat. And I've shared at least one post which proves I'm not alone.

So.

This past week, especially, I've felt the need to hurry, to out-run the coming tide, to work out there with Grace before she walks away. To lug in more bags of garden soil and peat moss and more flowers, worms and bricks. To get this adventure finished, otherwise August's gonna get here, I won't care anymore, and the yard will look weirdly unfinished till next Spring.

And we wouldn't want that now, would we? :)

So I'd better get back out there and do something even though it's soo humid, for August is coming ... and soon will be here. I hear it calling, even now.


*************

Thank-you so much for your kind responses to my 8th anniversary post!


*************

Oh, and last night I felt rather nostalgic, so here's what I posted at Facebook:

Although not a huge fan of summer, there *is* one thing I love about this time of year: the ice cream truck. Oh, not that I ever race out into the street and buy anything, but rather, I enjoy the memories of being a child and becoming excited whenever the musical truck made its way down our street. Ice cream trucks--they make me feel 10-years-old all over again. Gotta love that.


********************

"Know thyself."   ... copied


*********************

Our Neighbors Are Moving Today

******


One cold January morning in 2001, our 91-year-old neighbor died. 

I watched them carry his sheet-draped body from his front door just outside my sunroom windows, where I've seen a few neighbors whisked away by ambulance never to return, then later, their loved ones dressed in black, coming back from funerals.

Al's house stood empty for 18 months. Dark windows at night. No life there just below my own window sills, no paper boy leaving the newspaper. Only eerie silence.

In February of 2002 I experienced sinus problems and they eventually turned me into a slug, a real sloth. Months later I dragged myself to a doctor, got some antibiotics and began to feel better. But the godsend book, Sinus Survival, helped most, for I took the author's natural, common sense advice and have felt like my nearly-normal, semi-healthy self since.

(I'm getting to the part about my neighbors moving away. Honest.)

Those six months of being a slug meant our yard suffered. Tom doesn't do yard care--that's my department--so by August, the month I finally began to feel better, our yard resembled travel pamphlet photos for Death Valley.

Enter: our new neighbors.

Mario and Audrey walked through Al's house with a realtor that August and after an hour, Audrey knocked on our front door. Tom answered and the first thing Audrey said after 'hello' was, "Are those your weeds beside the driveway next door?"

Well, uh-oh. The previous spring I'd dragged Tom over to that side of the house to show-off my beautiful perennials at their blue and white peak. We'd had a wet Spring and they were gorgeous. But now, three dry summer months and sloth-like-Debra later, they were gone. Dried up. Wilted. But he didn't know that.

"You call those weeds?!" he asked. The gasp in his voice sounded a bit like offense. 

Well, Tom came and got me and I talked to Audrey out on the porch (she apologized for offending Tom). I told her I'd been sick and the yard had suffered the most,and yes, those were our weeds out there.

Well, Audrey and Mario bought the house next door. And so it began.

Audrey is like Ray's mother on Everybody Loves Raymond. She looks like her, speaks like her. At least, that's what I told everyone, because, hey! She does.

All winter I anticipated the following Spring and a tremendous reunion with my yard. This Spring I would have energy! I'd plant tons of flowers and wear my gardening dress. Have romantic, quiet times alone out there beneath the towering lilac bushes and sing little songs. Watch the birds snack from the feeders.

Finally Spring returned and I skipped out to my yard. I dug around my little yellow daffodils with a fork from my kitchen. Fed them fertilizer granules with the fork. And then, there came the retired Mario. He stood over me. 

"You're using a fork? I've got some garden tools if you want to use them. Come over and use them anytime. Oh, you prefer to use a fork? Are those daffodils? They sure look short. I've never grown daffodils. Are they hard to grow? Is that as tall as they get? I always thought they were taller. Oh? They're miniature daffodils? I didn't know they had such a thing. You can borrow my gardening tools anytime. They're just sitting there. They're better than a fork."

And on and on.

My romantic visions of quiet, Victorian-like dreamy mornings in the garden were dashed. Day after day Mario was out in his yard, too, just when I was. 

He'd come over and talk--every time. Or if he wasn't there, then Audrey was, saying things like, "Do you mind if I ask you a question? Why do you always wear dresses? I told my daughter, 'The whole world wears pants, but Debra still wears dresses.'"

Oh my. I became sneaky. I started creeping out in the yard before the sun had even finished rising. I gardened on tip-toe. I needed time alone out in my garden. And in my shadowy yard, I got it.

But you know? After a couple weeks, I missed running into Mario and Audrey. I'd gained a sense of humor about our earlier conversations and now I missed them. (Go figure.)

So I returned to the later hours out there, you know, when Mario and Audrey would be puttering across the tiny hedge. And then hey, we began sharing our extra garden vegetables. I learned to love squash, even, because Audrey gave me some and I didn't know how to tell her, "No thanks, I'm pretty sure I hate squash." My conscience wouldn't let me toss it, either, so I cooked it with onion and spices and loved it. 

We eat squash all the time now.

Sometimes Audrey stood under my sunroom windows and talked with me. She raved about our beautiful spring flowers which she enjoyed from her kitchen windows. She invited me inside her house to see the wonderful improvements her carpenter son made and gave me old magazines she'd bought at a yard sale because she knows I love old stuff. She called me just to chat. 

Mario said I was a hard worker (made me feel like Hercules--in a good way) and we even found the world's best carpenter by way of Audrey and Mario. He was their grandson, Glen, and he built our remarkable, best-in-town carport.

And along the way? I realized it was comforting to look over at their lighted windows on dark nights and know that Mario and Audrey were inside, cozy and together.

But today Audrey and Mario are moving. It's a long, sad-ish story. (It was nothing we said or did. heh.). My sunroom windows are now playing the scenes from Mario and Audrey's Moving Day.

But here is the good news. They're moving only twenty minutes away to a home in the country and they've invited us to come visit them anytime. Already, we're looking forward to that first visit.

Yet I'll miss Audrey and Mario and the lessons I learned from living next door to them. Neighbors like them cannot easily be replaced.

******



As man draws nearer to the stars, why should he not also draw nearer to his neighbor?
...Lyndon B. Johnson

Our backyard those two Mario and Audrey years.

******

Our Neighbors Are Moving Today

Sometimes (often?) God places people in our lives as invitations for us to choose a softer, kinder, more light-hearted way of being. 

A Top-5 favorite post of mine, one from 2004.


******


One cold January morning in 2001, our 92-year-old neighbor died. 

I watched them carry his sheet-draped body from his front door just outside my sunroom windows, where I've seen a few neighbors whisked away by ambulance never to return, then later, their loved ones dressed in black, coming back from funerals.

Al's house stood empty for 18 months. Dark windows at night. No life there just below my own window sills, no paper boy leaving the newspaper. Only eerie silence.

In February of 2002 I experienced sinus problems and they eventually turned me into a slug, a real sloth. Months later I dragged myself to a doctor, got some antibiotics and began to feel better. But the godsend book, Sinus Survival, helped most, for I took the author's natural, common sense advice and have felt like my nearly-normal, semi-healthy self since.

(I'm getting to the part about my neighbors moving away. Honest.)

Those six months of being a slug meant our yard suffered. Tom doesn't do yard care--that's my department--so by August, the month I finally began to feel better, our yard resembled travel pamphlet photos for Death Valley.

Enter: our new neighbors.

Mario and Audrey walked through Al's house with a realtor that August and after an hour, Audrey knocked on our front door. Tom answered and the first thing Audrey said after 'hello' was, "Are those your weeds beside the driveway next door?"

Well, uh-oh. The previous spring I'd dragged Tom over to that side of the house to show-off my beautiful perennials at their blue and white peak. We'd had a wet Spring and they were gorgeous. But now, three dry summer months and sloth-like-Debra later, they were gone. Dried up. Wilted. But he didn't know that.

"You call those weeds?!" he asked. The gasp in his voice sounded a bit like offense. 

Tom came and got me and I talked to Audrey out on the porch (she apologized for offending Tom). I told her I'd been sick and the yard had suffered the most, and yes, those were our weeds out there.

Well, Audrey and Mario bought the house next door. And so it began.

Audrey is like Ray's mother on Everybody Loves Raymond. She looks like her, speaks like her. At least, that's what I told everyone, because, hey! She does.

All winter I anticipated the following Spring and a tremendous reunion with my yard. This Spring I would have energy! I'd plant tons of flowers and wear my gardening dress. Have romantic, quiet times alone out there beneath the towering lilac bushes and I'd sing little songs. Watch the birds snack from the feeders.

Finally Spring returned and I skipped out to my yard. I dug around the little yellow daffodils with a fork from my kitchen, fed them fertilizer granules with the fork, also. And then, there came the retired Mario. He stood over me. 

"You're using a fork? I've got some garden tools if you want to use them. Come over and use them anytime. Oh, you prefer to use a fork? Are those daffodils? They sure look short. I've never grown daffodils. Are they hard to grow? Is that as tall as they get? I always thought they were taller. Oh? They're miniature daffodils? I didn't know they had such a thing. You can borrow my gardening tools anytime. They're just sitting there. They're better than a fork."

And on and on.

My romantic visions of quiet, Victorian-like dreamy mornings in the garden were dashed. Day after day Mario was out in his yard, too, just when I was. 

He'd come over and talk--every time. Or if he wasn't there, then Audrey was, saying things like, "Do you mind if I ask you a question? Why do you always wear dresses? I told my daughter, 'The whole world wears pants, but Debra still wears dresses.'"

Oh my. I became sneaky. I started creeping out in the yard before the sun had even finished rising. I gardened on tip-toe. I needed time alone out in my garden and in my shadowy yard, I got it.

But you know? After a couple weeks, I missed running into Mario and Audrey. I'd gained a sense of humor about our earlier conversations and now I missed them. (Go figure.)

So I returned to the later hours out there, you know, when Mario and Audrey would be puttering across the tiny hedge. And then hey, we began sharing our extra garden vegetables. Audrey gave me some squash and I didn't know how to tell her, "No thanks, I'm pretty sure I hate squash." My conscience wouldn't let me toss it, either, so I cooked it with onion and spices and loved it. 

We eat squash all the time now.

Sometimes Audrey stood under my sunroom windows and talked with me. She raved about our beautiful spring flowers which she enjoyed from her kitchen windows. She invited me inside her house to see the wonderful improvements her carpenter son made and gave me old magazines she'd bought at a yard sale because she knows I love old stuff. She called me just to chat. 

Mario said I was a hard worker (made me feel like Hercules--in a good way) and we even found the world's best carpenter by way of Audrey and Mario. He was their grandson, Glen, and he built our remarkable, best-in-town carport.

And on Tom's graveyard shifts? I realized it was comforting to look over at their lighted windows on dark nights and know that Mario and Audrey were inside, cozy and together.

But today Audrey and Mario are moving. It's a long, sad-ish story (nothing we said or did, though. heh.). My sunroom windows are now playing the scenes from Mario and Audrey's Moving Day.

They're moving only twenty minutes away to a home in the country and they've invited us to come visit them anytime. Already, we're looking forward to that first visit, so that's good news.

But I'll miss Audrey and Mario and learning lessons from living next door to them. Neighbors like them cannot easily be replaced.

******



As man draws nearer to the stars, why should he not also draw nearer to his neighbor?
...Lyndon B. Johnson

Our backyard those two Mario and Audrey years.

******



Back to 2019--


You know how I enjoy reading obituaries from the town where Tom and I met and married? Well, one obit this week had paragraph after paragraph listing what all this woman had accomplished: her jobs, her committees, her children, her hobbies, her travels, her ---

I began to roll my eyes, actually.

But the next obit? Much shorter, simpler and this line melted my heart--


"She loved her life with her husband, Gil."


Oh my goodness. Put that in my obit, ok? Except yeah, add 'God' and change Gil's name to Tom, instead.  ツ

Such a sweet sentence, one which paints a lovely, affectionate picture. 

Happy sigh.

******

Uh-Oh. August.

"For there is a time and a way for everything, although man's trouble lies heavy on him."   ... Ecclesiastes 8:6

*****

Oh the humidity!

It finally arrived, the pea soup stuff, and as always it reminds me of these lines from Carl Sandburg's poem:

"The fog comes
on little cat feet."

..... because that darn humidity--somehow--sneaks inside my house beneath the doors and windows and does drug-like things to my head. Yes it does, even with the air-conditioner blasting its heart out.

Gah. And to think that some people pray for this! What is wrong with them?

Anyway, yesterday afternoon when I pushed up the garage door for a soon-arriving-home Tom, I paused in our yard, gazed around and thought, "Uh-oh. I've got that August feeling again. I'm tired of my gardens. Tired of watering, fertilizing and babying green things. I've had enough of watching plants grow, fresh air and reading outside." (Blasphemy, I know.)

But there you go. Give me August and humidity and that's where I am. Yet the good thing? I'm always reminded of this post I wrote years ago, the one with the lines from People With Dirty Hands that said it's ok to bale out of your garden in August.

Whew. Now there's good news and just the permission I need to give myself a break and pack away my summer, even while others are still reveling in theirs.

And now I'll move on to other things where Grace awaits.

*****

"He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man's heart..."   ... Ecclesiastes 3:11




*****

Remember when I made a little beverage center of my own using one of my $1 estate sale shelves?

Well, yesterday I installed the other shelf below our kitchen sink to help store cleaners, etc. proving once again, that you don't need custom-made shelves (or custom-made anything else) or expensive just-for-one-purpose ones from big box stores.

*****

Free Kindle books:

Jane Eyre

Blue Hole Back Home

Thrashing About With God

A Surprise and An Enchanted Yard

So here's what I posted on Facebook this morning:
" Aww.... Naomi left this morning for her home in Nashville and I felt all sentimental and teary-eyed. But! About a half hour later she came back to bring us some dates which she'd found for a killer price after stopping for gas at Tops. What a special surprise! The gratitude I felt for just one more little visit with her made me feel cheerful again. (Ah, motherhood...)"

***

I'm missing my little sweetheart. She's turned into such a fine young lady and what a great cook of all things healthy! Two nights she created amazing portobello mushroom and vegetable burritos for us, food fit for the finest of restaurants. 

Already Tom and I are planning a possible trip down to visit her after Thanksgiving, pricing different modes of transportation. 

Oh, what I would have missed had I never been a mother...


***********


Clearly, our yard here at Hobbit Cottage is enchanted. 

Why? Because always by August I'm sick of gardening. Of flowers and weeds and dirt and the hot sun and I've been known to even say, "Hey you--Garden. You can just lie there as you are till next Spring for all I care. You make me tired."

But oh my goodness! Here it is September 6th and today I transplanted a hens and chicken plant and a mystery plant, both which Naomi brought home from a wedding reception last week. And earlier this week I planted flower seeds, even, and I'm still excited about our pretty yellow tomatoes and my herb garden, as well (probably I'll buy more herbs to plant out there). And bricks! I thought I had just six more to lug here from Home Depot, but then I began getting excited about surrounding the herb garden with bricks, so here I go again.

People, it's September. I'm never still going strong out in the yard at this time of year. But I am. Now. And I don't even want summer to be over. 

So as I said: my yard, it's enchanted. Magic. 

Must be.


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"Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful."   ... Colossians 3:15


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Five Years Later I Still Want One of These

A re-run post just for fun. Just to make you smile on this warm August afternoon...


*****

Our workers returned yesterday. You know, the guys who are siding our barn, and how refreshing to have found a reliable, first-class construction company! In our former house we dealt with some of the shadiest, shoddiest of them all, but this company makes us, well, darn pleased.

Speaking of which, last week at lunch in our local 50's cafe I told Tom that I wish I had my very own worker. My very own! A man who, if I asked him to construct raised garden beds in my Bunny Pasture, would say, "Yes, Ma'am! I'll be happy to. That's a wonderful idea." 

Then he'd walk away, whistling, to immediately begin framing the beds.

Not someone who would shake his head and reply, "Hmm. I don't know if that will work. Wouldn't it be better to just dig a regular garden bed? One over in that opposite corner where it would be closer and get more sun?" (something a certain husband I know would say. heh.)

Nope, I dream about my very own silent worker. A mute man would be a delight--or no-- one with a fondness for breaking out in song! Show tunes, preferably. Someone with muscles, a happy disposition, the heart of a willing, godly servant and a love of hard work amongst nature.

Oh, the miracles I could work around this old farm with one of those. ツ

******

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."   ... Philippians 4:13


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Ol' Debra The Conspiracy Theorist

“But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all the truth... and he will tell you what is yet to come. He who has an ear, let him hear what The Spirit is saying to the assemblies.”   ---John 16:13, Revelation 2:29


******

This is just a sampling of the warnings I spoke in this blog for years. My simple purpose for this post? That we'll all--at least sometimes--recall these words which I felt God gave me last month--

"One man's prophetic revelation is another man's silly conspiracy theory."

Please read these quotes, below, from my blog. Note the dates, then remember God places 'watchmen upon the walls' of our individual lives to warn us of trouble approaching, usually from a far-off plain.

Or in other words? Some folks who appear to be conspiracy theorists are just getting their information early from sources within them they don't even clearly understand, themselves. 

Ignoring us is fine, but please, try to avoid name-calling and belittling. 

Do we always get everything right? No. But try having a crazy, unexplained burden 5 years in advance, yourself, and see how perfectly accurate your warnings always are. 

Like you, we're just trying to obey God the best we can--so please--be kind. Thanks.


******



 "I've felt the need to ready Tom and myself (even if friends/relatives think we're nuts) for anything.

A-n-y-t-h-i-n-g. (Personally, I believe America is heading for a shaking which will involve varied forms.)"    --- As I See It Now, August 31, 2015




"Only a handful of my friends feel that something huge is around the corner for our Country--the rest say they'll continue to 'live by faith.' 

But uh-oh! 

'Faith without works is dead.'  (James 2:17) And 'The prudent see danger and take refuge, but the simple keep going and pay the penalty.'  (Proverbs 27:12)

And 'A wise man thinks ahead; a fool doesn’t.' (Proverbs 13:16)

Also, I'm trying not to all the time write here about prepping (honest), but it's so on my heart and what's coming is, many of us feel, different than anything we've ever seen before. Plus, I'd hate for you to blame me later for not sounding any sort of a warning. "  --- As I See It Now, September 30, 2015

'At my house, I try always to keep 2 months' worth of groceries. Am I an example of those wacky prepper ladies you see on tv with their home-style haircuts, squeezing between their basement aisles of groceries?

Nah. But I aim for that.  ツ

... Grocery prices will be going up. Possibly a lot. So you may want to save money now by buying--what you can--ahead.

... Oodles of times God whispers ahead to folks,"Something is coming, so prepare early." He gives us much time, usually, for 'He knows we are but (stubborn) dust."

Oh, the responsibility once we've fallen into the hands of the living God! How costly to one's very soul, over time, to ignore His nudges. How weighty all the things we could have done, but did not."   --- As I See It Now, August 5, 2015

"I've discovered God's far more specific than we believe Him to be. And that His warnings often come years before the difficult times arrived so---

We can spend money wisely and have food/cash/gas/energy supplies before a shortage.

We can become emotionally/mentally strong before facing an extremely emotional time.

We can move to just the right house/town and meet just the right neighbors.

...and so much more.

When we listen to-- rather than ignore--God? We spend our years feeling calmer. Leaning against His shoulder we hear His whispers and allow Him to hold us and cheer us up through it all.

Really, through everything."   --- As I See It Now, March 22nd, 2019


I said better save-up money in an easily-assessible bank account. Buy some silver and gold. Create a Plan B. Learn to garden, for food may not always be available.

And oh, the many posts I spoke about taking Vitamin D3 and how the dreaded A.M.A. and Big Pharma won't push it and will only treat symptoms, not causes, dispensing pills galore. And guess which vitamin is finally seeping through, making the news during this virus crisis?

Er hem. You get it. You get it.

Let this encourage you in your own life--

"Yes, the days ahead will be exceedingly challenging, but heroes are born when things are at their darkest." ... Michael Snyder


*******

Oh! And something so marvelous happened at my house on Saturday, but I'll wait to tell you next time since this post is already long.

But here's a hint:

Now, this is a cute idea! Since we can't go and sit at a coffee shop, here's one on a rainy night that you can 'sit at' for hours while listening to the rain, music and people's voices in the background. Love it!



******



Here's an excellent video for prepper beginners: Canned Foods With The Longest Shelf Life.

"For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses." ... Matthew 6:14,15

Saying Good-bye To My Garden

My yard, after the summer party, after the confetti was flung.

********

Lately I've walked around our yard bidding farewell to summertime, to planting, to stepping out the backdoor so that I could stroll, water under sunlight, dead-head, enjoy what Grace and I created. Rarely have I poured so much of myself into a yard and almost never have I felt sorry to see summer end.  June and July were too hot, ok, but the perfection of August and my fellowship with my brick flower beds, well, those will warm my blizzard mornings.

Tonight our first killer frost arrives so I'll gather green tomatoes into brown paper bags to yellow-ripen later. I'll snip-up my hot peppers into my flower beds, a continuing war effort against those pesky squirrels who dig there. Perhaps I'll cover some herbs with sheets, though herbs do tend to be tough.

And frankly? We all must be tough at the end of favorite seasons of Life, I think, for we tend to desire the Past, the lost things, instead of cherishing the Present. I'm learning--at a season's end, any season in Life--to anticipate God bringing me something even better. Something new, yet unknown, something exciting.

He's excellent at that, at making even rough-appearing seasons into the best ones, ever, for all the learning, for all the growing, for all the miracles.


**********

"To everything there is a season, and a time for every matter or purpose under heaven:

 A time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to pluck up what is planted,

 A time to kill and a time to heal, a time to break down and a time to build up,

 A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance..."  ... From Ecclesiastes 3

************

Walked over to the park yesterday and saw this:

**********

In the mood for some retro-ness? You might need a visit with The Time Warp Wives or another article (which I've sited before and never tire of reading) of these other (brave-to-be-different) Time Warp Wives.

And ok, these women are very involved with the Past, but! They actively find creative ways to make it their Present life, rather than just gazing backward, sitting around whining about what's gone. And well, I find nothing wrong with that.... just sayin'.  :)

***********