While the perennials are sheltered in the basement for two months now, the colder season will eventually show its true color. I anticipate white very soon. The holiday and winter season promises snow here in Missouri at some point. A white Christmas is what we sing about, but not always experienced. We have a 1 in 5 chance for the white fluffy stuff on Christmas Day. Dean and I experience the holiday lights and a “white-out” during an evening drive partaking in white snowman cookie and hot white chocolate from Starbucks. The white-out is fake snow, just simulating the real thing. I continue to take care for our perennials. Since I last wrote in this blog we welcomed a new white planter of lilies, mini roses, and a succulent sent as kind gesture as my mother passed away late in October. It is not doing so well in the living room, so I will move it under the plant lights downstairs. As I begin to address holiday cards I sing … “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas, with every Christmas card I write, may your days be merry and bright, and may all your Christmas’ be white …“ As with the magic of snow, I anticipate Jesus’ coming for this Advent season, showering of real blessings. The real deal, nothing fake about it.
The word “frost” came into the weathermen’s forecasts a couple of times last week. The late afternoon of October 1, Dean and I decided to move our perennials indoors while the colder air pushed its way into our town, but before a frost could lay its frozen fingers on our delicate green friends. We moved 20 planters of several varieties of ferns, lantana, lobelia, geraniums, swedish ivy, moses-in-cradle, philodendrons, and a Meyer’s lemon tree to the basement under a huge plant light on a timer. Two favorite perennial planters went upstairs in the house with us, along with 5 pots of herbs. It always amazes me how big the plants have grown over the past 6 months under mother nature’s care. Maybe I have a green thumb, but more so God blesses us with sunshine and rain at the right times. He reminds me when I can help with a watering can, pruning, and plucking the withered leaves and blooms. The frost finally gripped its frozen fingers on the cars, rooftops, and the earth very early this morning. But 27 pots of plants are snug and safe and sound in Deanna’s Cottage here in St. Charles, Missouri this autumn and winter seasons.
The winter chill came a month early in Missouri, and I believe most of the Midwest. The perennials came indoors to their wintertime home. The last of the ketchup and mustard rose buds were snipped and put in a shot glass, my make-shift bud vase. A welcome greeting in the kitchen. We have space for only one of perennials, our arrowhead in our little cottage living room. And how it has grown during the summer months and brief autumn weeks outdoors as we place it under the front window. The other plants are housed in the temperate climate of the basement under a plant light set on a timer. Much like the wintertime shedding that a pine tree goes through in this region, our perennials shed during the winter indoors. My pot of colorful lantana and geraniums dropped many leaves, but are still blooming.
I feel like my perennials and the outdoor plants during the winter. A major adjustment to the climate change. Many people with auto-immune disorders have worsen arthritic symptoms during the cold season. For some, the pain is much worse. Depression can set in. If you are not into gardening, I suggest to have just one potted geranium, Christmas cactus or another succulent to share life with this winter. With winter there is loss of luster, but an indoor plant may produce a bloom or two despite the season. Kind of like some of us people folk.
The summer solstice came and went without my celebration. I am sure the earth still celebrated! Too busy I would say. Yes, I need to slow down. Family engagements and work obligations continue to press me of my time, focus, and energy. Simply watering the potted plants or making a light, summer dinner is a chore. I have not stopped long enough to smell the roses or savor the flavors of summer. I took the day off today. Had to get some reprieve from the madness, gather my thoughts. Nothing like an upset stomach and headache to slow you down. Every year it is like this just before vacation finishing up projects at work, home and yard chores, making sure all the travel details are together. The air was unsettled this morning when I went out to water the potted perennials in the back yard. Something brewing. The clouds kept rolling in. Kind of like my recent hectic days building up.
I had no groceries in the house as we have been house and pet sitting this past week for two vacationing family households. I thought I would beat the eminent storm. It was like night by the time I gathered my $30 worth of protein and veggies into the Jeep. Big wet drops started to hit the pavement and my bare arms and sandaled feet. I managed to get to the cottage before the dark clouds totally let loose. Our first summer storm. How refreshing. I read Ann Voskamp’s timely words, “A soul does not work without a sabbath…Be still and know God…and not forget who you are.” There was a time in my life when I forgot who I was. And these memories too have preyed my mind these recent days. This vacation will be good for me. For Dean, too. Different scenery, a fresh view. I think a month-long vacation or sabbatical will be in 2020. Brewing for my next season in life …
I took my antihistamine this morning as advised by my allergist. When the temperatures get under 50, that is when my cold-allergy symptoms such as sneezing, a runny nose, and joint aches start up. This was the 2nd morning in a row for more autumn-like weather, and today a cold rain to boot. Feeling a little edgy at the office, I needed to get outside, rain or not at my lunch break. I bundle myself in my rain jacket, already in jeans and boots this casual Friday. My long 4-block stroll in the autumn rain was delightfully quiet. The outdoors, “mother nature” calms me. Things do not seem so big anymore in the vastness of the sky and trees. I warmed up with a cup of hot tea when back at my desk.
My Minnesota friends have had the white fluffy stuff this week. Last weekend in Kansas City, a cold rain pretty much non-stop for 2 days. On the east side of Missouri the cold front finally came. We went from August to November weather conditions in 2 days. Our tomato plants situated in a screen house in rural St. Charles County may experience their first frost tonight. This weekend’s visit to the farm will probably include picking green tomatoes, and next week preparing green tomato preserves. I have housed my perennials and tropical plants in the house, basement, or garage for the next 5 or 6 months.
Autumn Rain by Gerry Legister
When we see summer changes
The clothes we wear quickly disappear,
And the next season rearranges
Clouds more fastidious in the atmosphere.
The fall is here; it means a new challenge
For our clothes, shoes and hair
From the warmth of summer to darker rage
Autumn quietly drifts in unaware.
Let the autumn rain fall upon you,
Let the autumn rain beat upon the trees
Until the leaves fall down and become new.
Let the autumn season fondly release
The changes that time replicates
Shadows on the floor and rain in the air,
With pools of water running off the trees
And wash down into the gutter.
Let the rain fall softly while you sleep
And make the rhythm night beat
With a lullaby playing upon the housetop,
A note of intrigue to adorn the light.
When pools of water from the sidewalk
Splash upon you with quick surprise,
It makes you walk with a watermark
To stain the perfect spot on our tresses.
Spring finally arrived but transitioned into summer within days. 80 and even 90 temps have come quickly after such a long winter. I have not put in my vegetable and herb garden yet. Yes, I know. A sense of guilt for the early crop of greens I missed. But the garden will get planted. It has been one cold spell after another, one distraction after another, and one rainy day after another.
We brought the perennials outside yesterday. Some survived the winter in the semi-heated garage, and others did not. After a good soaking last night, my potted greenery seems to relish the mild outdoor air and misty morning rain this Sunday. My arrowhead plant has taken a beating from the baby kitten newly adopted. “Little WeeWot”, I dubbed him, who likes to hop from the tall ceramic pot up onto the buffet where he has full view of the kitchen. He even lays on the arrowhead plant to nap. The arrowhead plant is now housed next to the porch under the Japanese red maple. Such a pleasant sight this morning to see its branches perked up looking for the sunlight on this overcast day. Hopefully, just the song birds perch on the potted plant.
This spring has been a different season. I see my plants tell my story, my life. Gone with the dead, on with the living. Browns and grays have passed away. Green and vivacious colors reign again. Flowers of red, purple, blues, and yellow spring forth and fill the pots overflowing. Relationships renew. Love lavishly wins. Always.
Outdoor gardening seized late October. My perennials appear to be in dormancy under the plant lights in the garage. Such a cold winter, the little heater is keeping the garage just above freezing. Sometimes life’s circumstances appear to keep us in dormancy like the season of winter. But winter is just one season, there are those three others. And really underneath it all, life is emerging from the roots, bulbs are multiplying, and green growth will reappear in just weeks. Valentine’s Day red comes in the midst of the bleak cold winter in this part of the world. We just celebrated National Wear Red Day, comes the first Friday in February each year, with women sporting red dresses and men vivid red ties which reminds us to take care of our hearts with healthy foods and ample physical activity. Valentine trinkets, cards, and boxes of chocolates are given with red cupids and hearts on February 14.
This winter holiday warms hearts for some, and leaves others wondering if they will ever find true love. The history of this holiday evolved like so many other holidays from Christian roots. Wikipedia tells us “St. Valentine of Rome was imprisoned for performing weddings for soldiers who were forbidden to marry and for ministering to Christians, who were persecuted under the Roman Empire. According to legend, during his imprisonment, Saint Valentine healed the daughter of his jailer, Asterius, and before his execution, he wrote her a letter signed ‘Your Valentine’ as a farewell.” A original European tradition is to give St. Valentine’s keys to show love and with that goes the lore that these keys keep epilepsy away from your children. Now the golden key is gifted as a romantic symbol and an invitation to “unlock the giver’s heart”. Wow, what an invitation!
With Jesus you do not have to unlock the Giver’s heart. He gave all His love on the Cross. True love does come in Jesus! He is there for each of us. His love is perfect … it is patient, kind, does not envy, does not boast, is not proud, or rude, and is not self-seeking. It is not easily angered, keeps no record of wrongs, does not like evil, and rejoices in the truth. His love always protects, hopes, perseveres, and never fails!
Midnight, our almost 13-year old Labrador wanted outside at 3:30 this morning. Odd, as he is usually sacked out on the couch at this wee hour of the morning. And then he did not want back in. Midnight wanted to lay in his backyard, and Dean left him there. Morning came an hour earlier today…
As we set out for work this Friday, I understood why Midnight wanted to stay outside. Our dog was welcoming the “change in the air”, the first of the family to feel the air switch directions, a cool brisk wind from the north. It is an annual event, noticed by the animals and nature-sensitive people. This colder air brings the geese honking and ducks quacking overhead at sunrise and dusk. Deep-sighing breathes are taken in relief of the sultry summer heat. Dinner menus change to comfort foods. Poems are even written about this change in the air. My oldest daughter wrote this poem in honor of this change and her mother saying every year …
The woods begin to vibrate with gathering and preparation.
The sounds so crisp, electric.
Her words were “I felt the air change today.”
Red, orange, yellow, green, brown.
They dance while falling.
A choreographed waltz.
Every year she said “I felt the air change today.”
Beautiful, breathtaking, loyal.
I think I felt the air change today.
With this change in the air comes thoughts of autumn and winter, getting the household, greenhouse, and gardens ready for the cold seasons. Another crop of greens will be sowed next week, maybe give us 2 or 3 more months of salads. Smaller pots and baskets of our perennials will be combined into bigger pots in preparation for their indoor home. But this time it is something more than a season change for our green life as said in the lyrics of A Change in the Air sung by Clint Black …
There’s something talkin’ in the wind
Whispering through the trees
That feeling in my bones again
Just puts me right at ease
It takes me back to all the times
I’ ve been here before
But crossroads, old familiar signs
Tell me there’s something more
Can’t explain, there’s something strange about the early fall
It’s comfort leaving me without a care
I remain but everything around me hears the call
And tonight I feel a change in the air
The leaves are turning, soon they’ll fall
There’s a norther blowing in
The memories flowin’, I recall
Those changes in the wind
But I can never try to understand
There’s nothing you can hold in your hand
Can’t explain, there’s something strange about the early fall
It’s comfort leaving me without a care
I remain but everything around me hears the call
And tonight I feel a change in the air
Yes I’ll surely feel a change in the air
A sprout, green shoots of hope appeared in the garden bed today. My chives have surfaced from its winter hibernation. It had been 10 weeks when we left the Deanna Greens greenhouse in Defiance, just before Thanksgiving. By lantern light we harvested all the herbs and greens we had left that evening. There had not been need to get to the farm since snow has been close to null, no need to check on the 3-season structure. Dean, Midnight, and I observed signs of where an animal had laid on the other side of the bed. Our labrador sniffed the area thoroughly “who has been sleeping in my bed?!”
This mild sunny afternoon in early February called my name to the countryside. Perusing our 3-season structure, and then for a long walk around Boone Hollow Farm with Dean and Midnight. Midnight lead the way up the hill, passed the farm neighbor’s sprouting garlic field we help plant in November. Then a stroll along the cedar ridge, down another neighbor’s gravel driveway, back near our greenhouse, then over to the barn, and circling the brush piles before our return to the greenhouse. Our landlord must have set the one brush pile on fire as there were a few lasting embers and a small trail of smoke surrounded by ashes. Present moment, mindful observations of nature. The walk and fresh air revived my soul after this weary week.
Hope is like those February sprouts of chives and garlic. Perennial faith believes a flourishing crop and bountiful harvest in the not too far future. Lasting embers will once again ablaze a fire to light up the darkness and give warm comfort. The ashes of cancer lie on the ground while my daughter lights the world with her strength, faith, and love.
The last day of November was warm with a brisk wind to scurry about the colorful leaves. I walked the streets in Clayton to do some banking and grab a bite to eat on my lunch hour. The wind whipped from the west and changed directions several times that hour. The tell-tale sign of changing seasons. A mild autumn is quickly going into winter-like weather this week. The weekend forecast includes snow flakes, and colder than normal temperatures next week. “Each year is a parable begun in stillness, and chill, of bare ground warmed with spring life returning, then bursting, buzzing, peaking in summer, and issuing a final flare in autumn, to subside in another winter’s seeming nullity,” author Stephanie Mills writes in her book Epicurean Simplicity.
Preparations for the winter season may not be a necessary stack of firewood in my suburban lifestyle. I remember as a child the excitement of my family’s annual New Year’s Eve stay at the one-room cabin my father built on the family farm in Franklin County, Missouri. The simple shingle covered dwelling probably no bigger that 500 square-feet had no bathroom or electricity, but a wood stove for its heat source. My father and Grandpa would cut down old trees on the 100+ -acre farm and split wood throughout the autumn season in preparation for deer hunting trips and these winter weekend visits to the family farm. My current preparations include sweaters and boots being pulled from the depths of the closets as well as my epie pin and antihistamine stowed in my purse for the next 4 months. An allergy to cold air and water is not easy, but is not the worst a person would have to deal with. Thank goodness for gas heat.
And now I focus on my own heart matters for today. Simplicity. “Try to see the beauty in your own backyard to notice the miracles of everyday life,” religious leader Gloria Gaither says. I would say that is great advice. Perennial thoughts and ways, appreciating what you have now, and making do. Simple, thankful, authentic, resourceful. I am intrigued by the choice of voluntary simplicity as I further my research for an enrichment class to teach at my work place. There are authors, activists, and societies devoted to this way of thinking and lifestyle. Choices made such as local community versus global; homegrown versus mass produced; renovate or upcycle versus disgard; a 3-generation home versus having separate homes; public transportation, carpooling, or riding a bicycle versus commuting to work with one’s own vehicle everyday; hand-crafted versus manufacturer made; purchase local versus big brand, slow food versus fast food, and the list goes on. As author and ecological activist Stephanie Mills states“bigger has not turned out to be better.” I like the change back to some old ways and traditions. What does simplicity mean to you? How have you made simplicity a lifestyle choice? I would love to hear.