Behind the Scenes / Getting Ready to Weed

            While gearing up to go full throttle with the garden (where morning’s are kept meeting-free to work outside in the cooler part of the day in the quiet serenity of why we plant gardens in the first place), I’ve doubled up on business things for the next few so as to be fully present for when seeds and weeds need my little hands back home.

            What that means is drives to Nashville, lunch with lawyers, and a whirlwind of other things I try to get accomplished while dressed in business attire before winding my way back home to put on mud boots in time for feeding time at the zoo. Reminds me of an interview we once did with Sir Freddy Laker, the British airline entrepreneur who founded Laker Air, who we asked “Where’s your office?” His reply was “Any flat surface will do.”

            I felt like that today when working from a Jiffy Lube lobby, a hotel lobby and most recently from the surface of a bed hosting a snoring dog and a sleeping cat. (This surface isn’t quite as flat as the others, but it has its charms.)

            Meanwhile, the garden is gearing up for planting. The rows are drawn. The tilling’s done. Starting a week from Saturday (weather permitting) the signs are right for above ground crops according to Thurman, after which my job title will shift from writer/ producer to plant manager.

At the end of the day...

           

           Not sure what the measure of a day should be. I used to think it was a “to do” list completed or a project met on deadline. If that were true, today would be one such day, as plenty of work got done; new projects are on track; lots of things in the hopper.

            But more than anything I’m “doing” (which is, I dare say, how most of us measure our worth) more and more it’s a state of “being” I strive for when I lay my head down on a pillow at night. Instead of “What did I accomplish” my better measure has become “What feeling do I end this day with?” For instance, am I stressed? Am I exhausted? Am I behind before tomorrow even begins? Or can I look back on this one and say “Well done” or some version of “Ok, God, what next?”

            People often ask why I have critters (and goats in particular). Laughing I tell them the garden needs what they provide (and this is true, especially if you strive for organic). But why I really have these faces around is for the reminder they bring me not to go too fast or to take myself too seriously. (It’s hard to take yourself seriously when you’ve got a bunch of goats squawking at you. They’re just too dang funny.) But in all seriousness, no matter what gets accomplished, no matter what business is underway, the best measure of my day comes in the smallest of moments when hugging a pup or laughing at a goat or hearing the sound of my purring cat as I call it a night, all serve to remind me that these are the things that money can’t buy. These, to me, are the true measures of a day well spent.

Living by the List

            For as long as I can remember, I’ve started my day with a list. Used to be I couldn’t fall asleep until everything was crossed off. These days, I still make the list; I’m just not as hard on myself if something rolls over till tomorrow.

            It’s not that I’m any less “type A” than usual. It’s just here of late (call it age; call it life) I’ve come to realize and even accept that the more meaningful moments in life happen in between the items on my list and very often in spite of them. Certain things may take me away from my “to do’s” and when they do, I now stop and take note, as I’ve come to realize that the things that take me off point usually come with some sort of gift.

            Case in point: today’s list included several bills to pay…several errands to run. Nowhere on the list was “cry with a girl on her way to chemo who’s missing her daddy” or “stop to love on Rosey’s pups that don’t live here anymore” …

            In other words, it’s the things that don’t make the list that make for life. Trick is, to forego the list sometimes to make time and space for those things to happen.

            Metaphysicians like Deepak Chopra and Wayne Dyer both refer the “gap between our thoughts” which, (by their definition) is where God resides. By their definition (which I tend to think true), our brains think thoughts for a living, the same way our hearts pump blood or our kidneys filter toxins. It’s the job of our brains (as the organ in our head) to think things, but it’s what’s in between our thoughts that let us know that we are not our thoughts but instead, we are the observer of these things we’re thinking.

            It’s very easy to identify with our thoughts and assume our thoughts are who we are. Likewise, it’s easy to identify with our lists of “to do’s” thinking this is what makes for a life.

            Much as I love a totally checked off list, I’ve never found my list to fulfill me as a person. Instead, I’ve come to discover that my greatest joys in life never come from something listed then checked off, but from something never intentionally put on the list in the first place that makes its way into my day, bringing with it some unique gift or insight that I otherwise could not take credit for having created.

            I’m pretty certain my drive to make a list every morning will be with me always. No longer do I fight it. To the contrary, thanks to lists I get a lot done. But I have learned to forgive myself when something not on the list makes its way into my day and takes me off point. There are moments in every day when going strictly by the list would take me down a notch and have me missing some of life’s most precious gifts.

Seldom (if ever) does “meaningful” happen from my list. More times than not, the meaningful moments of my day happen in spite of it.

Picture Perfect Easter

         

           I don’t know when I’ve seen such a picture perfect day as our Easter here in Middle Tennessee. Between the sunshine, the breeze and all our purple and white blossoms (apple and cherry) bursting into bloom, everywhere you looked seemed to have come out of a travel brochure for some luxury vacation spot here in the South.

            From sunrise services to gatherings with friends to evening talks folding well into the night, I reflect on the many conversations centering on life ahead with new chapters and new projects likewise bursting in bloom. The entire day seemed to resonate with Easter's theme of resurrection and renewal at the most fundamental level. I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed a holiday so thoroughly.

            While driving home from Nashville having visited neighbors and friends I had not seen in years, I thought of the recent Kenny Rogers/Dolly Parton duet “You Can’t Make Old Friends” (I'm particularly fond of the bridge in that song):

When Saint Peter opens the gate,

And you come walking in.

I will be there just waiting for you.

You can't make old friends

You can't make old friends

Can't make old friends

It was you and me, since way back when.

But you can't make old friends.

While no one's in a race to get there, I have to say the thought occurs to me often and I do look forward to the day. For my old friends and those I love who spent Easter on the other side, here’s hoping yours was every bit as beautiful…your baskets just as full, and your sunrise services a most amazing  beauty to behold, much less experience... (I can only imagine.)

Easter at a Whole New Level

            I’ve always loved the Sandi Patty song “Was it a morning like this?”

(In case you’ve never heard it, here’s my little Easter gift to you  ~ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GpIC0d_3bWo&feature=kp )

In follow up to yesterday’s blog, my day was spent preparing my lavender for transplant. Right now finds my lavender much weeded over from last season. Why? Because I made the mistake of letting what we call “volunteer” plants run rampant (in this case, watermelon).

“Volunteer” plants are those that pop up outside of the rows you intended, from seedlings having been left over from prior years. Last year I viewed them as cute… Thought them strong willed and determined…independent plants with a mind of their own, and since I could relate, I let ‘em run wild. This year, I’ll pluck them before they grow as they can wreak havoc on your intended rows if you’ve got things crossing up, as was the case with my watermelons and my lavender. (Note to self: Discipline--It's a good thing.)

To give credit where credit is due, Thurman warned me the first year I grew a garden that my lavender was too close to my watermelon mounds, but I didn’t listen. Heck, I’d given those watermelons a good 10 feet on every side. How much room did they need? (Turns out, a lot.) For the record, Thurman hates lavender and thinks my idea to grow a purple yard a stupid one, as in his words "It’s a waste of perfectly good farm land.” But that’s ok. If Thurman and I agreed on everything this garden wouldn’t be half as fun. I’ve just learned to pick my battles. (This ain’t one.)

To be clear, the beauty of the day was not about pulled weeds, but about what weeds represent in all our lives.

As mentioned, my dear friend Dawn received a cancer diagnosis 3 days ago, the shock from which still has her inner circle stymied. When I asked what we could do between now and Monday (when she goes to the doctor to figure out the game plan of what looks to be a combination of surgery, chemo and radiation) she asked if she might come pull weeds. (You gotta love that Dawn. Ever the servant’s heart!)

As you might imagine, our weed pulling was less about the plants, more about us. With Rosey to help and the most gorgeous weather ever, our therapy session lasted well into the afternoon, with about a third of the plants helped. At one point Dawn looked down the long row of weeded over lavender and said, ‘My gosh, this will take hours” to which I replied, “Oh I have no intention of completing it today. Matter of fact, it’s not about completion at all. When it comes to this lavender (or all my garden for that matter) it’s all about the process…all about the journey.

As with gardens, so with life.

Guess you could say we’ve taken “weed therapy” to a whole new level.