Clan Leaf

It can be pretty easy to underestimate the value of a single leaf.  After all, each healthy deciduous tree and bush is covered with lots of leaves during the warmer months.  Then, as the cold months approach, the leaves detach themselves from the parent plant, falling to the ground.  Some of them might go out in a flash of glory, showing off bright yellows, oranges and reds.  But, ultimately, they will fall.

If a person wanted to, they could pull a leaf off of a tree and the tree would barely notice.  Whole branches, covered in leaves, might come down in a storm, but the tree can live on.  Once the leaf is no longer part of the tree, the leaf withers and fades.

It's enough to conclude that leaves aren't terribly important.  Just an unnecessary appendage that some people will grumble about when they fall to the tidy lawns in suburban neighborhoods.  A fragile decoration that is shredded in a hailstorm or gnawed by various insect larvae.

Now that we have reached Thanksgiving, very few trees in Iowa are adorned with leaves.  We find ourselves walking under the boughs of trees as they reveal their skeletal features.  While we know that most of these trees are merely hibernating, we can't help but feel that they are dead.

Because leaves harvest light, which becomes life.

We know this, even if we can't immediately describe the process of the conversion of light to energy.  The leaves are a measure of health.  Leaves speak of the wind.  Leaves provide a place for the songbirds to swim as they seek out their own sustenance.  Leaves collect droplets of life-giving water.  

And this is where our definition of importance might need adjustment.  Just because the removal of one does not result in the death or loss of the whole, larger organism, it does not follow that this single leaf has less importance than any other part of the tree.

While a branch may not fully appreciate or understand the function and form of a leaf, it still needs to recognize its value and respect it.  The roots will never see a leaf, but it takes its nourishment through photosynthesis while the leaf is part of the plant or as a result of decomposition after the leaf falls and is broken down into useful nutrients.

So, here's a blog to honor Clan Leaf.  They may be easy to remove and take for granted.  But, they bring light and life to the rest of the organism.  Without them, the tree will eventually die.  But as long as some still appear each Spring there is hope.

Different Viewpoint

On my recent walk at Backbone State Park, I made sure to ... um... stop walking for a bit.

I know, I know.  I clearly don't know how to go on a hike by myself.  You see, if you are going on a hike, you're supposed to keep moving.  The whole point is to get form point A to point B and to do it efficiently.

And I didn't do that.

Instead, I stopped a couple of times to listen carefully to the birds, trying to identify as many calls as I could.  Then, I pulled out the phone and the Merlin app to see if I was getting the identifications right.  THEN, I started turning in place to just view the world around me in all directions.

Note to self, do this slowly to avoid getting dizzy next time.

Yes, now I am just being silly, because I did not actually spin so fast that I got dizzy.  But I noticed you needed me to get your attention back by being a little silly.  Did it work?  No?  Alas for me.

Anyway, after I took the time to face each direction, I looked down.  Then I looked up.

Then I got the camera out and tried to take pictures of some of the things I observed in that space.  My favorite photo from that exercise is the one you see above.

When I was looking down, I noticed a feather that landed over a leaf on one of the rocks on the trail.  There were some small plants growing in the fissures of the rock and there were leaves that had fallen from the nearby trees.  

If I were a person who was an expert at bird identification, maybe I would have endeavored to identify the bird this had come from.  But, alas again, I am only an amateur in that area.  Better than many, not as good as others.  If I were a geologist, I might have found things to study in the rock - but I am not.  So, I could only note textures and colors and the various qualities a person who has not studied rocks deeply might be able to make.

Still, what I was able to consider and view while I was looking down was very different from what I observed while looking up.  I could even make myself believe that the two were not connected, even though I knew I had not moved more than a couple of feet from my original position (if that).

On one side of the trail was a rock face.

I have been on this trail before and I recall a similar day that was a bit less windy and much more sunny.  At that time there were various insects and spiders here that I could observe.  But on this day, there was no such activity, despite my willingness to patiently await a possible reveal.

Instead, I found myself looking at a rock wall that was uninterested in performing any feats of magic for me today.  And, to be perfectly honest, I really didn't want it to move while I was standing there any way.  I was content that the stone would continue on with its slow, steady life - likely considering active and impatient critters, such as myself, as being beneath its notice anyway.

I could turn both directions and observe the trail that I had come from and the trail I was going to.  

There was something familiar about the way the path seemed to disappear ten to twenty feet away in either direction.  I could clearly see this trail in the area where I was currently residing, but both my past and my future were obscured.  Hidden by trees, bushes and rocks.  

The trail was not perfectly straight.  And, while I have walked this path before, I was not so familiar with it that I knew exactly what I would find around either bend.  

It reminded me a bit of the growing seasons we have experienced at our farm.  Each season has followed a general pattern - planning, to sowing, to cultivating, to harvest and back to planning.  A cycle that has us following the same path from year to year.  But the path is never quite the same - either because our memory recorded the trail improperly, or because things truly were different this time around.

I could put my back to the rock face and look out at the Maquoketa River.  Now I could contemplate water.  Water is able to ooze its way between rock, wash away sand, and makes up much of the volume that is you and I.  Each droplet has a value beyond measure and too many droplets can destroy things we value just as quickly.  

It made me think of a an excellent tune by the Choir that has the lyric "every drop of water is a blessing and a curse."  In recent months, most of Iowa has been in a drought.  So, every drop of water that we have received at our farm has been viewed as a blessing.  But, I also know that some of the rainfalls we got that we were so pleased to have ended up causing other people some problems.  And I can also recall many times on our farm when we were doing our fair share of cursing at the water droplets as they fell... and kept falling.

I even noticed a flowering plant nearby.  Clearly it was near the end of its flowering cycle.  But I still appreciated its presence and the little dash of color it added to the landscape.

So... all of this by simply being in one place for a while and giving myself time AND PERMISSION to look around.  To take in the view from as many angles as my imagination would allow.

And look what I was able to see.  Can you see all of the interesting things I could observe and the thoughts I could consider?

And that is my gentle reminder for today.  Give yourself the time and permission to look at something from all sorts of angles.  It could be all of the views you can see from your front porch.  It could be all of the different sounds you can hear in a favorite song.  It could be all of the different ways you could think about a particular idea.  Close your eyes and smell the fragrances in a spice rack in your kitchen.

You might be surprised what you will observe.

Around the Bend

When Tammy and I take a hike on a trail, we do like to take a moment and enjoy our surroundings as we go.  This is even more pronounced if we bring a camera along because we like to try and look at things different ways and capture different viewpoints of where we are at that point in time on the path.

Most of the pictures don't turn out to be much of anything from a 'photo' perspective.  In fact, most of them end up being deleted.  But, some few of them look pretty good and many of them help transport ourselves back to that moment.

Then, there are pictures that - even though I remember that moment and place - make me wonder, "What would I find if I stepped into that picture and followed the trail I see?  What would be around the bend?"

Would the trees welcome our presence?  Would there be a light breeze or would it be perfectly calm?  Are there birds in the underbrush to the right and left?  Would they grow silent as we stepped through or would they continue to chatter, not caring that someone magically appeared on the path nearby?

Would we remember to look carefully at where we are now and appreciate things like the texture of bark, the smell of leaves and the rustle of sound as a small creature darts around in the brush?  Or will we focus too hard on our destination - the area after we turn that bend in the path? 

I just hope that we can be happy to be on the path in the first place.

Caretaker

The picture of newly hatched chicks in a Genuine Faux Farmer hands may still be one of my favorites.  By the shape of the hands, it looks like Tammy was the picture taker and I was the hand model for this photo.  I am no longer certain who took this one and it doesn't really matter - because both of us would have had rough, cracked hands.

And we both would have held the chicks gently, watching for their well-being even as we took the time for a photo opportunity.

The artistry of Norman Rockwell has been something that has captured my attention since I first encountered it at my grandparent's house in an over-sized, coffee-table book.  Rockwell had a way of capturing people in a way that let you get lost in the layers of fine detail.  And yes, I mean detail in more than one way.

In the piece shown above, it is absolutely amazing how things like the texture of the wood on the scythe and the roughness of the farmers' hands are so clear to see.  But, even more amazing is the depth and consistency of the detail of the work.  Other than the unlikely appearance of the flying bird in the panel in just that position, nothing really seems out of place.  Nothing rattles against the subconscious - telling us something isn't right.  Even that bird belongs.

It is perfectly clear that the clothing worn by this individual is something familiar and functional.  There is a wear pattern on the handle of the scythe that implies this is not the first time it has been used - just as the hands of the farmer who is wielding it are roughened and experienced in manual labor.  The details showing the difference between skin regularly exposed to the elements (face, hands and neck) versus those less frequently exposed (upper arm) shows an honest familiarity of what it means to work outside.  The hair is likely a little mussed under that hat and it isn't likely to get much better until the end of the work day and all of the chores are done.

This is one of my favorite Rockwell pieces as it portrays the farmer as a caretaker - one who works hard, but keeps an eye on the well-being of the world around them.  The farmer has an appreciation for hard work and fully understands that 'things don't get any dunner, if you don't do them!"  At the same time, there is a recognition of natural beauty and the fragility of life.  And - the farmer knows that there is time to observe, honor, and protect these things, even while the work waits.

Those tough, thick-fingered hands don't blister much anymore because they are all callous - but they can still hold a small bird.  Gently.  Kindly.  With awe and wonder.

This is the image of farmer I wish we could see realized on a regular basis.  Caretakers.  Not businessmen.  Stewards.  Not commodity growers.  There are plenty out there who have the heart to be this kind of farmer.  It would be good if we could find a way to employ them and realize the depth of value, beauty and worth that this type of caretaker brings to the land.

Gentle Reminder at Dusk

It's been a very long week.  No.  It's been a very long series of weeks for everyone at the Genuine Faux Farm.  Even Murphy, the youngest Farm Supervisor (aka cat), has had some stressful moments - which is saying something.

Crops on the farm are ripening, as they do in August.  And they are clamoring for our attention.  Over the past week we have brought in, with the help of some fine people, somewhere in the neighborhood of 86 pounds of green beans (and we're not done yet).  We've canned peaches and we're getting anxious to freeze beans,broccoli and corn, process tomatoes, and do our best to get excess produce to others.

The broiler chicks are just about ready to go out on pasture and the henlets are about ready for us to let them out on the pasture outside of their room.  But, we've got to get the pastures ready first - of course.  And that's not all of the farm stuff.

Meanwhile, we both have jobs that are needing us to be twice our normal selves right now.  Both for different (and similar) reasons.

It's all enough to bring about a serious ugly mood if we let it.

Then I went out to do the chores after we made our veg and egg deliveries for the week.  And the hens were dawdling around again, not wanting to go in.  This was the LAST outdoor chore before I could go inside for the day and the sun was already below the horizon.

Rather than getting mad about the hens.  I decided to just absorb what was going on around me at the moment.  I didn't have anything else to do but wait for the birds... and see, feel, and hear the beautiful world I get to live in.

 

Perhaps Crazy Maurice and his tree friends arranged this moment for me?  Or maybe this moment has just been waiting for me to notice it.  

It's a gentle reminder to breathe.  Live.  Appreciate.

And, look at that, the last chicken was in once I panned the camera back around at the end of the video.

Now I could go in, gift firmly in hand.

It Doesn't Always Take Much

Not every seed lands where there is rich, deep soil.  Sometimes they land in a place where the odds are very much against future success.  And yet, sometimes the seed finds that there is just enough.  Enough to begin to grow and find its way in a world that isn't giving it much to go on.

Sometimes a young tree has to innovate if its going to grow.  Or maybe this one was an Ent that sat down on a rock and has yet to stir from its spot. 

Trees can be pretty amazing - and it's pretty enjoyable to see how they make things work with what they have available to them.  It's a good lesson in persistence and adaptability.

Screwy Data

When I walk behind a wheel hoe or run Barty (the walk-behind tractor) around the farm to prepare ground or cultivate, I find that my mind is able to multi-task fairly well.  Obviously, I have to pay consistent attention to what I am doing so I don't destroy plants I want to keep with the wheel hoe and the stakes are higher with the walk-behind tractor.  With Barty I can both destroy plants AND potentially do a bit of harm to myself or whatever else gets in the way.

Now, if I am cultivating with Rosie, the tractor, there is usually even less brain multi-tasking going on because that tool has even more potential to do harm.  But, I digress...

In any event, my brain can go all sorts of places when I am walking back and forth between 400 hundred foot rows of veggies.  One place it went to recently, much to my surprise, was my eighth or ninth grade science class.   I don't recall for certain which, and that doesn't matter.

Different Abilities
The instructor for the class was Mr. Rasmussen and he was, generally speaking, a capable teacher.  Certainly, as far as I was able to tell, he knew plenty about what he was teaching and I actually liked most of the things we covered - which is saying something when you are talking about middle school.

Everyone who is reading this knows this is going somewhere - so let's just get right to it.  Mr. Rasmussen had a host of physical challenges.  When he walked, it was with a shuffle that made it look like he could topple forward with each step, his arms hanging at his sides as if they might be too heavy for him.  There were days when Mr. Rasmussen would remain seated for the entire class.  He spoke as if his tongue were two sizes too large for his mouth and the rumor (I never found out if it was true) was that he had had polio when he was younger.

Sometimes he would try to give a demonstration in class that required measuring out some liquid into a glass tube.  He would start with one tube with too much liquid and try to pour from that tube into a second tube to get his required amount.  It was painful to watch as he would pour the liquid from one tube to another.  The shaking of his hands and arms made it virtually impossible for him to get what he needed.

The entire class sat there and watched, unsure of what we should do.  I could tell that some of the members of the class were inclined to just think it was funny and others thought it was sad.  But, in general, it was supremely uncomfortable.  You see, Mr. Rasmussen did not seem to want help, though he did accept it when one member of the class offered to pour it out.

I certainly learned from Mr. Rasmussen, but I suspect I learned more after the experience than I did during it.  Or - at least - I didn't fully realize what I was learning at the time. 

A Lesson Learned

One of the things I learned is that it takes a great deal of bravery to break away from the crowd.  When you add to it the uncertainty that comes with being a young person who is not sure if you are supposed to help....

I remember a good deal of internal pressure and debate when we witnessed our teacher struggling.  I would feel embarrassment on his behalf, but then I would berate myself that there was nothing to be embarrassed about.  His body only allowed him to do so much and there was no shame in that.  The next battle was whether or not he would appreciate help and whether I dared to step forward and offer to change what was going on.  I knew the answer - but then I had to fight my own shyness that was at its peak in middle school.  That, and as a middle school student, I still ran on the training that you waited for the person in authority to direct what was going on.

Mr. Ed Rasmussen

I would like to say that I was the student who finally won the battle and volunteered to help.  But, I wasn't.  Instead, I desperately wanted to be that person.  All the while, I felt a flood of relief when it was someone else who finally stepped up.

Good Data / Screwy Data

When our class would do a lab, he would shuffle from table to table, checking on our progress.  If things were going well, he would approve by saying "Good data!"  If you had made some sort of mistake, his response was always "Screwy data!"  I learned to appreciate the complement that was "good data" and I was determined to avoid "screwy data."  Such is the life of a kid that gets positive reinforcement by academic success.

The desire to achieve "good data" overrode my reticence to try new things in front of an audience.  I have to admit that lab and hands-on courses terrified me at that time for that very reason.  I would very much prefer to try things out without others nearby to witness potential failure or - even worse - see that I did not quite understand what was going on. 

Stepping Up

Stepping up and doing what seems like the right thing always sounds so easy when we say it.  But, if it is really all that easy, why don't we do it more often?  A big part of it is because you and I are all too worried about what others will see and think about us.

Happily, I have changed a bit since middle school.  Sadly, I still lose the battle with myself to do the right thing too often.  But, as far as I am concerned, hearing the words "screwy data" even once is too many.

And so, I find that I try to push myself a bit every day to stand up for someone else just so I can hear Mr. Rasmussen say "Good data" in my head.  Sometimes I do something small like writing a blog that addresses difficult things.  On other days, I speak up when I hear someone say something that is cruel or inappropriate.  Once in a while, I'll stop the truck and help someone at the side of the road who needs it.  There are times when I volunteer to do something to help someone else - even if it isn't something I want to do.

Here's to you Mr. Rasmussen!  Thank you for stepping up.
That's good data.

Wait a Minute, It Will Change

I allowed myself the opportunity over the past weekend to watch the clouds for a while.  Well, ok, I wasn't just watching the clouds, but they did grab my attention.  Sometimes...

That's the neat thing about the way clouds move in and out throughout the day.  They can roll in, coast in, float by and build up or disappear slowly over the horizon or past the trees and hills.  Sometimes, they strike a pose where they contrast light and shadow, showing their depth and shape in intriguing ways.  If you are lucky, you'll be paying attention when that happens.

If you don't happen to recognize it, that's ok.  Just wait a minute, things will change.  And maybe you'll get to see something wonderful, but different.

Grace

 

I am going to tell you a story that starts with Bree, the Meeting Cat and Indoor Farm Supervisor.  She was also known as the "Breeling" or my "Bree L.F." (Bree Little Friend).  I am not telling this story to elicit sympathy or bring about indignation for things gone wrong.  And I certainly don't need your judgement if you feel our decisions were misguided in the first place. 

I have another purpose and I hope you'll stick with me while I get to that destination.

We let it be known, via the blog, that Bree was declining and likely reaching the end of her life.  We did our best to be kind and consider what might be the best course of action as she approached the exit door of this world.  We did our best to look at her with clear eyes when it came to assessing if she was in excessive pain and if waiting longer for the end would be more cruel than the alternative, taking her to see the vet one last time.

One of our cues was assessing how she accepted comfort.  Bree was always a cat that would seek and gladly accept comfort from her humans.  And the good news is that Bree was able to accept that comfort until the day of that appointment with the vet.  During her last few weeks I think the only sustenance she successfully took in was that comfort - because she certainly wasn't drinking much and she wasn't keeping any food down.  That comfort kept her eyes clear and she still gave us purrs and let us know that she did appreciate what we could give.

But, we knew what was coming and we wanted to provide Bree with the kindest exit we could manage for her.  She sat in a lap and received comfort for the entire trip in the car and we did everything that we thought was right - choosing the best alternatives as the options dwindled.  The intention was for a gentle exit - one we had witnessed before with Eowyn, by using the injections to bring about sleep and then an end.

I held Bree for that first shot, but things didn't go exactly as hoped.  The first shot must have hit something vital because our little cat showed extreme pain before going limp.  I suspect she was dead before the second injection was even started.  The process wasn't gentle.

And I felt as if I had let a creature who had trusted me down.

So, that's the story - now for the point of telling it:

In this world, you can do everything as best as you are able with the knowledge that you have at your disposal.  You can seek out qualified opinions and give yourself time to make the best decisions.  You can do everything as right as you possibly can.

And you can still have a result that is not a good one - even when you can't possibly see how you could have done much better.

This is why it is so important to give each other - and ourselves - grace.

We need to exercise the gift of giving grace because it is actually a rare thing to be able to successfully navigate difficult processes and decisions perfectly in the first place.  We're going to fail to observe something, or we're going to misinterpret something else, or maybe we'll just not have the energy to apply ourselves in a way we would really like to.  If things can go wrong even when you think you've done the best that can be done, what can we expect when we add in our own shortcomings?

I like to think that most of us in this world genuinely want to do the "right thing" as well as each of us is able.  Unfortunately, I also know that we're going to fail at doing the "right thing" frequently.  This should not be an excuse that we use to ignore problems or opportunities to improve.  But it should be a reminder to all of us that each of us is imperfect, and grace is necessary because it recognizes our value despite that imperfection.

If you're still with me - today's gentle reminder is to offer grace to someone who needs it.  Maybe it's you.  Perhaps it's someone else.  And be prepared to practice offering grace frequently.

Because it's actually one of the best qualities humans can have.  The ability to offer forgiveness, love, and support despite mistakes, imperfections - and results that don't go the way we had hoped and planned.

Cultivating Thoughts

The seeds are gathered from my experiences and the knowledge I have acquired by reading, listening and experimenting over time.  I am not the source of most of these seeds.  Many of them come from other people.  A significant group of them came from observing the natural world.  But, in most cases I no longer remember where I got them.

But, I plant this diverse set of seeds into the soil of my mind and wonder what the harvest will bring.

I cultivate the seeds I have planted, selecting which young ideas and thoughts will be given time to grow into something that has more meaning.  I honor those I keep by assigning them names and words that identify them and I add to the richness of the soil by arranging and re-arranging these words so they are just right.  Over time, I find many ways I can express what I see in these living things - these ideas - that are beginning to gain strength.

Sometimes, they develop into a weed and I find that I am no longer interested in where they will lead me.  Rarely, I discover one that needs to be aggressively removed.  But, usually, I remain curious about how they will turn out.

So, I cultivate the soil and supplement it with what I discover and how I feel as I work around them.  I select more words that represent these feelings and I begin considering descriptive words that might express how I want things to turn out.

Or maybe how I think things will turn out.

Or how I fear what will be revealed at the harvest.

I harvest the new understandings I raised from seed.  This harvest includes connections to other people, places and things in my world.  I recognize the idea that came from the Meadowlark sitting on the line and the philosophy presented to me as I witnessed a rainstorm.  The fruit over there came from that moment when I saw an angry person stop and apologize rather than continue to place blame.  The flower by my feet came into being when someone else gave a little extra effort to do something well.  The carrots?  Well, we usually don't talk about those.

Some of these are new to me and some are well known.  Sometimes, I enjoy the fruits of this harvest and I consider new words that express my gratitude as well as a longing to do even better.  Occasionally, what I have learned leaves me wondering what there is to be grateful for and I fight to express that disappointment and how I still long to do better.

I look around and I find that there are seeds that come with this harvest.  And I realize there are plants that I do not remember putting into the gardens of my thoughts and they provide seeds as well.

I view the gardens others near me have created and I see other ideas of beauty, kindness and wonder.  Sometimes, they offer me some of their own seeds.   And they surprise me when they ask for some of mine.

Now I have a new batch of seeds.  Some I know well.  Others are entirely new to me.  And still others have an origin story that I have since forgotten. 

So, I plant this diverse set of seeds into the soil of my mind and wonder what the harvest will bring.

Peaceful Visions

I read somewhere that some people find it calming to think of place and time where they felt safe, secure and at peace.  I am hopeful that everyone has some memory or experience that can help them remember these feelings.  Failing that, I can hope that those who have tumultuous lives can use their imagination effectively and create that place and time for themselves.

It shouldn't be a surprise that I often visualize scenes in the natural world even though I am fully aware that nature is not always gentle - as recent storms remind us.  Still, I dug out some pictures and thought I would share in hope that others might find something good in either the images or the words. 

Snow Muffler

The camera comes out in the winter months nearly every time we have a hoarfrost or rhyme ice.  This is especially true if we have also just had a recent snow.  

One such event happened several years ago.  We had a snow that covered things with a six-inch deep blanket of soft flakes.  There was no wind and the night brought about the hoarfrost.  The next morning was gray, with leaden, heavy skies.  No wind stirred the new snow and the hoarfrost clung to every surface it could find.

It was cold, but I really didn't feel it.  The sound of my footsteps were muffled - yet they were the loudest thing my ears detected.  It was almost as if all of nature was holding its breath.

Perhaps it was stunned to see how good it looked in this new garment.

Close Up

Bleeding Hearts were probably one of my first introductions to a perennial flower.  A very large, nice example resided on the north side of our house in Newton, Iowa.  

These plants can be very attractive plants for a good part of the season if they are placed in the right location.  When they bloom, they can certainly add a nice splash of early color to the landscape.  But, you are missing something if you don't take a moment to get up close and personal when they are in bloom.

Sometimes, I would go sit next to the plant and just observe the shape and texture of the flowers.  Each flower was incredibly soft, yet quite sturdy.  The fine details of each bloom were captivating - encouraging my mind to be at peace with the world.  If my Mom ever wondered where I went sometimes, now she knows.

Wonder

I am not sure a picture of a kitten is entirely peaceful.  And, yet, this picture of Bree as a kitten reminds me both of how small she was then and how much wonder there is in the world.  There is so much in this world to see and explore... even in your own home.  Sometimes it takes the exploration of the young to remind us how to find things that ignite curiosity and wonder.

Bree is an older cat now and is less prone to the foibles of a kitten.  Yet she can still be persuaded to imagine that the hand under the blanket is a mysterious and wondrous occurrence.  If she can be persuaded, then so can I.

Washing Away Worry

Tammy and I are both attracted to waterfalls.  Obviously, the natural beauty is part of what leads us to find and observe them.  

Waterfalls are made of constant motion and sound.  But, the consistency of that motion and sound becomes soothing if you take the time to allow it to work its magic.  Sometimes, I can imagine that water cleaning out the rubbish left by worries in my mind and crushing it at the base of the falls.  The remains are then carried downstream - banished for a time from my memories.

The Value of an Individual

I am sure anyone who knows me will not be surprised to see yet another flower here.  In this case, it is a columbine.  The flowers for these plants are wonderfully complex in their form, holding two different sets of petals that have surprisingly different shapes.  Columbines are covered by a solid flush of blooms for about ten days on our farm.  Then, they rapidly fade.

I am reminded of the beauty of the community of flowers on each plant at peak bloom, but I am also reminded of the beauty of each individual flower when I allow myself to enjoy them.

And those are some of the peaceful visions that came to me as I selected these pictures.  I hope one or more of these also speak to you.  And, if they don't, it is my wish that you are able to find your own image, your own music, and your own story that works for you.

Thank you for visiting the blog.  Have a good remainder of your day.

Will You Walk With Me?

--------------------

Here's hoping she'll say yes... again.

When You Feel Down

I go through cycles where I seem to be happy and productive, which are often mixed in with times where I struggle to get things done and/or I am, perhaps, a bit depressed.  Lately, I have struggled with the knowledge that former friends and acquaintances are no longer with us.  

But, the down cycles are mostly just because I am human.  I'm not always happy.  I make mountains out of mole hills.  I let other people's anger and discontent depress me sometimes.  I also wonder why I bother putting it in a blog.  And none of this has to make sense, either. 

When I feel a bit down, I try to dig around deeper so I can find some of the good things that I have buried.  Not unlike the Clematis flowers that open near the base of the plant or... perhaps next to the trellis where we have to move a few leaves to see them.  

I am pretty sure that they are there... somewhere.  But, I don't always have the energy to do that sort of digging.

That's why I sometimes need a bold statement.  One that stands out like a German Bearded Iris.   

I may not have the energy for subtle and perhaps it will work to just hit me with something grand and beautiful.  But, sadly, this does not always work.  These ostentatious blooms might feel a bit like they are trying too hard to impress.  It's almost as if they are saying, "You are not allowed to feel down - smile!  Or else!"

I suspect that those who know me will tell you that this is NOT necessarily the best way to turn my mood around.

Perhaps what I need is something in between.  Something that stands out, but it isn't quite so overpowering?  Maybe a Columbine?   Each healthy plant usually has many flowers open at once and you take the plant and its flowers as a whole.  It's almost as if the flowers are saying, "Hey!  We're all happy to be here.  Maybe if you joined us you would cheer up some?"

There are times when this works too - just like the other two bloom types.  But, sometimes, a person actually starts feeling a bit trapped when everyone around them seems to be doing just fine.  If not trapped, then maybe isolated because you feel like you're the only one feeling as you do.  It's a reminder that feeling sad is okay sometimes and that being told you shouldn't be sad isn't always the best solution.

The Mock Orange tends to get my attention first when I pick up its aroma as I walk by.  Again, there are many flowers open at once.  Unlike the Columbine, where a single flower can captivate you as much as the group does, the Mock Orange relies on the group and your sense of smell to entice you to smile in appreciation.

But, if you're feeling a bit cynical at the moment it tries to capture your attention, you might find yourself saying, "Nice try, Mock Orange!  But, I am not in the mood for sweet smells and bright flower petals.  Even if you are putting yourself right next to the path I walk from one farm task to another."

Maybe what I need is something a bit more practical.  Potato flowers normally come in clusters, but it isn't a huge bunch of flowers on a stem.   Their presence typically signals some of the next steps in plant development that will result in some tasty tubers in a month or so.  

A promise of good things to come, brought forth by a good thing now.  A little companionship that comes with the cluster of flowers, but no tendency to overwhelm with numbers or with drama.  Maybe that will work for me now?

Except, potatoes at this stage usually also bring work, and I might be having trouble getting everything done as it is.  Apparently, I think too much, because the potatoes almost got me.

Well, let's try the snow peas instead?  The flowers are delicate and quite beautiful when you take the time to observe them.  They promise tasty peas in the not too distant future.  In fact, you can often view a flower and munch a pea at the same time.  

Maybe.  Just maybe?  Yeah.  But, harvesting peas take a fair amount of time.  So... maybe not?  

What about a chorus of day lilies?  Yes, they are a bit ostentatious, like the iris.  They typically come in groups, which means they could be a bit overwhelming.  But, they, like sunflowers, are captured rays of sunshine that glow on a bright day and bring out the light when the rest of the world appears dark.

This is the part where I realize that sometimes I actually need a little bit of all of these flowers.  It's not that I am demanding or anything, it's just that I know I can get a boost in so many ways.  I just have to accept the help as it is offered - taking what I need and leaving the rest for someone else who might want it.

Throw in some bursts of Garden Phlox and few spikes of Culver's Root and it starts getting pretty difficult to keep a small smile from showing up on my face.  Yeah.  That does look pretty nice.  

And so do the other pictures in this blog.  

It's okay to be sad.  Just like it's okay to feel better after the flowers try to coerce you into improving your mood.  But, even if it doesn't help right now, the flowers won't be offended.  They'll just keep doing their thing in the hopes that it might help when you are ready and able to receive that help.

I'm good with that.

Keep Eyes Open for Moments of Awe and Wonder

This is one of the times of year where we have the opportunity to see some of the most amazing color displays in our skies as the sun comes up and when the sun goes down each day.  Tammy and I are fortunate to live in a place where we have mostly unobstructed views if we wish to observe sunrise or sunset.  So, it should not be a surprise that a common exclamation to be heard at the Genuine Faux Farm is "Oooooh!  Look at that sunset!"  And, yes, you can substitute sunrise in that statement if it is morning.

Both of us agree that if we could capture some of these colors, we would love to paint them on the interior walls of the house.  But, we don't (and likely won't) do that because there really is no way to catch the complexity of it all.  Any approximation supplied by paints would be a pale shadow that would not inspire - unless it were to inspire us to pick a new color to cover our failed attempt back up.

On this particular morning, the sunrise was one that started inauspiciously.  It didn't look like it was going to be one of the more outstanding shows.  Suddenly, the interest level went up as things changed over a period of five minutes.  It was enough to get me outside with the camera sans coat, glove and (believe it or not) hat.

I was able to grab a few pictures, but I wasn't quite willing to go traipsing about to find the perfect bit of landscape to frame it.  It turns out that was a good choice, because the colors rapidly faded.  Sometimes the sunrise seems to go on and on, with a light show that lasts long enough that you realize you really should have done your farm chores quite some time ago.  Then, there are mornings like this one.  A quick moment of brilliance, and then we go about our day.

Don't get me wrong.  The rest of the day has its beautiful things, its awesome and wondrous moments.  But, this moment might have been so glorious that it made many other good things pale in comparison.

Keep your eyes open.  These moments that inspire your awe and your wonder for the world around you don't always announce themselves.  We've got to be ready for them, so we can celebrate when they happen - and then celebrate again when we remember them.