As I worked hard in the farmette gardens today, I came to the conclusion that changes are in order.
For example, exuberant joy has to be put on hold for now.
Yes, there are buds and tips everywhere...
Any day now, we will see the first daffodils. With April, we will have a riot of greens, yellows, blues. A gardener works toward that goal. Now is an exciting time to be a flower grower!
But one doesn't garden with an empty head. You dream, muse, make your plans for the coming weeks. You think about the beauty of the planet we live on.
This is very hard to do when the planet finds itself in a state of chaos. Joy doesn't sprout just because there is beauty and sunshine and spring is in full swing. It isn't like a daylily about to explode, just because the season calls for it. Joy requires the right conditions and I'd say we'd all agree that today's conditions are suboptimal. When you read letters from friends who have children and grandchildren in Italy, when you understand the stress young families are under -- well, you can't put that aside and giggle with glee.
What to do, what to do?
I'm thinking our focus should be on compassion and hope. If we do our bit -- you and I both, because we need near perfect compliance -- there is hope. If we read about the fear in others, their sorrow, their loss -- we have to churn out all the compassion within us and look for ways to let them know that we are by their side, albeit at a distance.
With this in mind, I am tweaking and rethinking the tone of Ocean. My writing has to be honest, but it also has to offer something that is maybe helpful to those who are struggling (with isolation, with anxiety, with uncertainty). Ocean has always had to balance acknowledging the realities of life with seeking out a day's finer moments. There is in all of us a desire to experience something more luminous than a brown landscape at the end of a long winter (so to speak). I promise you that I am working hard to find that balance and to write about it.
Another change going forward: I'm shutting off comments. I've meant to do this long ago, because mine is not a blog that demands an immediate response. Most of you have switched to personal email anyway and I think it's far better that way. Some of you have been corresponding with me for years! I've loved these remote friendships!
We are evolving, seeking new ways to find happiness, to smile, to think about love.
(Happy the rooster in the morning sun)
Wait, does everything have to change?!
No indeed. Ed and I still sit down to breakfast, even as our bowls of fruit are less full and, unless the garden explodes in the next few days (it will not, because it's Wisconsin!), the kitchen table will sport bunches of flowers I purchased several years ago in Giverny rather than the fresh ones you've been seeing from the grocery store.
It is a gorgeous (if cool) day! Plenty of sunshine. I begin the laborious job of clearing the yard of last year's growth, so that the new stuff can fill the spaces.
(Happy and the cheepers follow my every move)
(Hey, emerging rhubarb!)
(Chickens in my pots. Flower pots.)
Dinner? Oh, that's the same as well! Leftover soup! On the downside, we burned some chestnuts. Ed felt bad for suggesting that they can be roasted in the microwave. They cannot be done that way. Believe me.
For example, exuberant joy has to be put on hold for now.
Yes, there are buds and tips everywhere...
Any day now, we will see the first daffodils. With April, we will have a riot of greens, yellows, blues. A gardener works toward that goal. Now is an exciting time to be a flower grower!
But one doesn't garden with an empty head. You dream, muse, make your plans for the coming weeks. You think about the beauty of the planet we live on.
This is very hard to do when the planet finds itself in a state of chaos. Joy doesn't sprout just because there is beauty and sunshine and spring is in full swing. It isn't like a daylily about to explode, just because the season calls for it. Joy requires the right conditions and I'd say we'd all agree that today's conditions are suboptimal. When you read letters from friends who have children and grandchildren in Italy, when you understand the stress young families are under -- well, you can't put that aside and giggle with glee.
What to do, what to do?
I'm thinking our focus should be on compassion and hope. If we do our bit -- you and I both, because we need near perfect compliance -- there is hope. If we read about the fear in others, their sorrow, their loss -- we have to churn out all the compassion within us and look for ways to let them know that we are by their side, albeit at a distance.
With this in mind, I am tweaking and rethinking the tone of Ocean. My writing has to be honest, but it also has to offer something that is maybe helpful to those who are struggling (with isolation, with anxiety, with uncertainty). Ocean has always had to balance acknowledging the realities of life with seeking out a day's finer moments. There is in all of us a desire to experience something more luminous than a brown landscape at the end of a long winter (so to speak). I promise you that I am working hard to find that balance and to write about it.
Another change going forward: I'm shutting off comments. I've meant to do this long ago, because mine is not a blog that demands an immediate response. Most of you have switched to personal email anyway and I think it's far better that way. Some of you have been corresponding with me for years! I've loved these remote friendships!
We are evolving, seeking new ways to find happiness, to smile, to think about love.
(Happy the rooster in the morning sun)
Wait, does everything have to change?!
No indeed. Ed and I still sit down to breakfast, even as our bowls of fruit are less full and, unless the garden explodes in the next few days (it will not, because it's Wisconsin!), the kitchen table will sport bunches of flowers I purchased several years ago in Giverny rather than the fresh ones you've been seeing from the grocery store.
It is a gorgeous (if cool) day! Plenty of sunshine. I begin the laborious job of clearing the yard of last year's growth, so that the new stuff can fill the spaces.
(Happy and the cheepers follow my every move)
(Hey, emerging rhubarb!)
(Chickens in my pots. Flower pots.)
Dinner? Oh, that's the same as well! Leftover soup! On the downside, we burned some chestnuts. Ed felt bad for suggesting that they can be roasted in the microwave. They cannot be done that way. Believe me.
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