“Change is here to stay”, and we as people are constantly changing. Like blooms from a potted geranium. Each opens from a bud. And then dies to make way for more growth. Growth is what makes me “me”. Hopefully, we evaluate our identity on a regular basis. I know I do. I do this with conversation with friends, family, acquaintances, or the new person I just met. Also, I spend quiet time in thought and prayer about who I am and my purpose on earth. But more than anything, my identity is found in how I serve those around me. Busy wife, mother, grandmother, sister, daughter, granddaughter, wellness administrator, culinary professional, instructor, and farmer; serving in all those capacities. I have many blooms on my potted plant. How about you?
I want to be in my greenhouse today, but instead I need to be at my office. I have a few green things growing near my desk. They are green reminders of the living earth opposingly different than the fax, copier, laptop, printer, and phone system made of hard plastic and metal screws. My co-worker dubs each of our plants with a name characterized by who gave it. I have a beautiful arrowhead philodenren named “Brian” after my ex library co-worker who give this to me 8 years ago. Three out of 5 ladies enjoy the living green things in the office. Yesterday I welcomed a red-leaf philodenren we named “Peggy” after the lady Dean & I bought the greenhouse from. I need the oxygen my plants provide and the pleasures of seeing living green things 24/7. Friends forever …
Christmas brunch awaits;
Lavender cream scones, ham quiche,
with cranberry juice red.
Happy Haiku Day!
Haiku is a form of Japanese Poetry. In English, it consists of 3 lines. Each line has:
It often includes references to nature, especially the season and your experience of it. Post a haiku today!
Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmas-time. “~ Laura Ingalls Wilder
As I get older, I have simplified the holidays. Most gifts are bought throughout the year, decorating kept to a minimum, baking delicacies few, and gatherings short but sweet. Green gifts of houseplants and botantical soaps given at all the gatherings … I want to feel like a child again this Christmas … the magic of just being …
My 96-year old grandfather will spend a many winter’s night alone. Grandpa Earl lost his beloved wife of 52 years this August. On Christmas Eve Grandpa Earl will be in the company of his youngest grandson, my brother. I think my brother knows Grandpa’s heart … this poem brings me back to thoughts of Grandpa …
An Old Man’s Winter Night by Robert Frost
All out-of-doors looked darkly in at him
Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars,
That gathers on the pane in empty rooms.
What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze
Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand.
What kept him from remembering what it was
That brought him to that creaking room was age.
He stood with barrels round him—at a loss.
And having scared the cellar under him
In clomping there, he scared it once again
In clomping off;—and scared the outer night,
Which has its sounds, familiar, like the roar
Of trees and crack of branches, common things,
But nothing so like beating on a box.
A light he was to no one but himself
Where now he sat, concerned with he knew what,
A quiet light, and then not even that.
He consigned to the moon—such as she was,
So late-arising—to the broken moon
As better than the sun in any case
For such a charge, his snow upon the roof,
His icicles along the wall to keep;
And slept. The log that shifted with a jolt
Once in the stove, disturbed him and he shifted,
And eased his heavy breathing, but still slept.
One aged man—one man—can’t keep a house,
A farm, a countryside, or if he can,
It’s thus he does it of a winter night.
Garden art is an expression of one’s soul… Seeds packets, weathered hand trowels, a stalled tractor, the resting plow, pea shoots, sunflowers face the sun or lie their full heads to rest, rainbow reflections from the water-flowing sprinkler, dirt-cladded rocks, green garlic sprouts, worn ruts in the field road, sharp rows of green, bee’s visit to the flowering lavendar … all spiritual gifts to receive at the farm and share … an artist’s palette.
So I have in mind to use my abundance of dried lavendar into soothing, aromatic soap for Christmas gifts and sell at the farmer’s markets this winter. Bought some simple molds. I thought to use creative ideas, and welcome yours. What do you use for your soap molds? An antique or something contemporary?
Our 1st market finally came and went. We set up a colorful palette with holiday county plaid fabrics contrasting with our luscious green plants. I think we had the prettiest table. Dean primped while and I went around introducing myself at our 1st market day on Saturday. The weather was mild for early December. Perfect for our plants for traveling and making their way into the indoor market. Networking was great. It is a viable part of marketing and makes for an enjoyable time for all. Jessie Pearl, CEO of Sugar & Butter and Estie, Queen Bean are my new friends. Jessie’s and Estie’s food products are scrumptious. A little bartering kept me happy. Sales were slow, but our name and product are being introduced. Those business cards and product labels did not come in time, but hope to see them tomorrow in the mail. Need to pass those out as people asked for one. Off to another indoor market in Tower Grove next Saturday. See who I make friends with there …