My days revolve around my flowers, which is a helluva lot better than revolving around economic tumult. The dahlias are coming into their own, in all shapes: balls, anenomes, cactus, decorative, lacinated, collarette, waterlily. In the photo above, in a wonderful vase I bought in New Mexico, are an anenome dahlia, "Lucky Ducky," a waterlily named "Giraffe," a couple of ball dahlias, "Ruskin Gypsy," and a pair of anenomes named "Riverboat."
Life isn't all about flowers. It's about having courage and faith in the winter seasons, when life hands you killing frosts and death and other creepy things. It's about having faith in the future and being willing do the work required today. Here's the same vase a few days earlier, with the ball dahlia and a lacinated dahlia, "Pinelands Pam."
I must like the red palette, or else they happen to be strong varieties that thrive for me, because here are some more of a different type:
With some of my prize money from the regional fair's floral competition, I hunt down vases in thrift stores. Here, in a vase I found at Goodwill, are a red waterlily dahlia and a pink semi-cactus, "Heather Marie."
Most of my dahlias are three to four inches, a size I like for flower arranging. But a few larger varieties are blooming now. Here, in a tall pilsner-shaped vase from a local thrift shop, are "Spartacus," an informal decorative dahlia, "Grand Finale," a semi-cactus, and "Curly Que," an incurved cactus.
As I tend the garden and mess around with the flowers, I think about how courageous are some of the people I know. I see a lot of hope and resilience. I think about grace and mercy, how they keep marriages intact and help us all forgive each other. I think about the nature of faith; I've been told it's an active verb. I think about shit: did I use too much? not enough? Funny how shit is a word we use for fertilizer, which is a good thing, and for lousy things that assail us. Then I hum a few bars of some unidentifiable tune, and there's my day: part shit, part grace, and full of flowers.
I'm a poet, gardener, and freelance writer who lives in California by the coast, in a small town surrounded by pastures, woods, and vineyards. Other things I am: recovering LA magazine editor and recovering alcoholic, wife of a tolerant man, mom to two beautiful daughters, mistress of beagles and cats, lover of mysteries and photography, a survivor of suicide, depression, addiction, and sundry minor ailments. I write for a living and write poetry for life.
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“Things turn out best for the people who make the best out of the way things turn out.” (Art Linkletter)
We are continually faced with a series of great opportunities brilliantly disguised as insoluble problems. (John W. Gardner)
Survival Tip #19
My strength lies solely in my tenacity. (Louis Pasteur)
I'm a recovering Lutheran
"This life therefore is not righteousness, but growth in righteousness, not health, but healing, not being but becoming, not rest but exercise. We are not yet what we shall be, but we are growing toward it, the process is not yet finished, but it is going on, this is not the end, but it is the road." (Martin Luther)
A Philosophy of Life
“It is by studying little things that we attain the great art of having as little misery and as much happiness as possible.” Samuel Johnson
Visitors are beautiful people.
Global Poetry, Cheap
This debut volume of the legendary Poetry Bus contains the world's greatest poetry from the world's finest obscure poets, and it’s practically free. Click on the photo to do your wee bit to support global poetry for a paltry 6+ pounds (Paypal friendly & includes shipping!)—a real steal since the premier issue is sure to become a collector’s item worth millions. The Poetry Bus itself, invented by Ireland’s own Totalfeckineejit, tours the planet every Monday and welcomes all riders. You’ll find the Eejit on my blog roll.
The day the Lord created hope was probably the same day he created Spring. (Bern Williams)
My AA Recovery Story
I got sober in 1990 after a life of drug and alcohol addiction, and I had 15 wonderful years. Then I moved and left my homegroup behind. I didn't replace my sponsor, who had died. I didn't work with newcomers, and I went to only one meeting a week. Ultimately, I didn't stay sober. I experienced that strange mental twist, and I picked up. But I jumped back into the program, and my life has continually gotten better. I'm married to a man with 23 years of sobriety, and we work our program at home. AA is the hub the wheel of my life revolves around. I've been able to explore a creative side of my personality that once lived only under the influence of drugs. I have perfect moments during each of my precious days. We are none of us invulnerable to that strange mental twist that precedes the first drink, and all that stands between us and the drink is our constant thought of others. My prayer these days is: God, do your will in and through me today. If I can be an inspiration to others, then my life is rich. God bless you all.
Rosebud on Ice
If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant; if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome. (Anne Bradstreet)