September thoughts, before the end of the month
It has been a very dry month--after a cooler and wetter summer than we have been used to in recent memory. Oh yes, about 4 years ago there was that June that was so wet parts of Ontario were flooded, crops were sown late because the fields were so muddy, but they caught up as the summer warmed up.
This year, the vegetable garden required very little watering, until late August and now September. Ornamental gardens did well also, although in my sandy soil, the shade beds under the maples, continued to remain quite dry, and if moistened a little by the weekly rains, they dried out quite quickly. These shady beds benefited from a mulch from the compost bins. Of course, the potted plants needed nearly daily watering, as rain was shed off the pots by the plants.
I tried to take cuttings of dwarf burning bush, berberis, bridal wreath spirea, and rosemary--unsuccessfully. Well, there may be hope for one each of the berberis, and spirea. That will be something I'll have to work on. I did succeed with cuttings of Japanese spurge, and weigela.I had much better luck with the seedlings of gold mound spirea that I replanted as a hedge along the driveway, and the self sown seedlings of nicotiana, dill, cosmos, borage and mullein which I replanted in various spots about the garden.
The nicotiana around the front walk and front porch, shaded still by the remaining half Manitoba maple (see below re how it became a half) are lovely, particularly in the evening, when their whiteness pops out of the shadows, long after other flowers disappear into the dusk. On some still evenings, if there is some moisture in the air, the scent of nicotiana is bewitching.
I planted the cosmos in the vegetable garden where the cheery pinks were a pretty contrast to the blue borage blossoms. I hope they reseed again next spring, when I hope to start a cutting garden of annuals somewhere in a sunny spot.
Some things planted under the huge Manitoba maple when I moved here, have languished in the sudden exposure to more sunlight. This is due to the crash of fully 1/2 of this huge tree last fall. The remaining 1/2 is leaning dangerously. I moved three clumps of a yellow-blooming dead nettle to the shady beds under the maples. It has suffered also from the dryness, so I have had to water it frequently.
The Unbelievable lack of hydrangea blooms for the family celebration of my daughter's marriage on the Labour Day weekend, prompted me to plant an Annabelle Hydrangea on the southeast corner of the house, which is partly shaded by maples and a crab apple. It too suffered from the dryness and I wondered if I shouldn't have added some humus-y compost to the soil. Another task to add to my wishful to do list.
I celebrated my 50th birthday this month. I was quite elated about it all, finding myself proud of being here at this milestone--in years, anyhow-- in a certain state of health, happiness and growth. I'm proud of what I've endured, survived, and grown through in my life. While emotionally, psychically, and spiritually I feel pretty whole, I am still working on my physical health and strength. I find yoga and belly dancing are invaluable in both the physical and psychic regard. The other area of my life that suffers still at this point, is my financial health. However, I remain optimistic that through perseverance, hope, learning, and work, this will also improve.
My conclusion therefore is, that although I'm embarking on the second 1/2 century of my life, I might need several 1/2 centuries to accomplish everything on my life's-to-do-list.
My friend Bruce suggested that while before my birthday I was 49, today I'm only 5, because everyone knows 0 is nothing! Being 5 again is pretty good! The possibilities are quite intoxicating to think about. I would not have imagined such possibilities when I was 5 the first time around. I had already discovered that I was not allowed to do an awful lot of things. The first time around, I had to just accept that the answer was "No", and the reasons for it were incomprehensible or bizarre.
Strangely enough, I believe I began to self-edit my questions pretty efficiently at a very early age, only asking about things that I expected might receive a positive answer. However, the proportion of "no's" remained the same, in relation to the number of questions I asked. By the time I answered my own questions as an adult, many permanent grooves looped from any old question at all to an automatic "no". Isn't that a sad observation of my education and upbringing?
Imagine the the joy I discovered when I realized the answers I had learned "should" be no, even when I felt the answers were really positive, were actually positive as I had felt they were all along! The converse principle in that confusing world was that things I did not want to do, did not believe I ought to do in any rational part of myself either, were things I was compelled to do by the authorities in my life.
Obligations came out of nowhere! Responsibilities extended to any number of unhealthy places. Boundaries were incomprehensible and arbitrary and changeable.
By comparison, I'm in love with my granddaughter who at age 3 is eager to "do it myself" or quite consciously manipulates people to do things for her when the mood strikes her by claiming that she "can't do it". Dressed up by her Auntie Maria for the family party to celebrate her parents marriage ( we finally celebrated over 1 1/2 years late ), she was quite matter of fact when complimented, that yes, she was very pretty. She was Cinderella and she was a Princess. Such self-assurance.
The other gift my granddaughter has, which I sometimes wish we as adults had not been disciplined to lose, is the gift of wailing or roaring our unhappiness, disappointment, frustration, pain, whatever. How brief these storms usually are in children, but we repressed adults forget to give these feelings an honest outlet. They stew away under the proper lids we placed on them, to simmer and brew and rot until the lid blows off, or lifting an innocent seeming lid one day, we are horrified to find what has been festering there in the dark. Cleaning up those messes takes a lot of work. How much better it would have been to express our feelings, let them blow away in cleansing fresh air.
As I grew up I was certainly taught that it was not safe or ok to express my feelings. And feelings not expressed soon translated to feelings that I could not even recognize and identify after a time. Now I am at the point that I have to work when I feel vague unease and discomfort, to recognize and identify my true feelings in those situations. When I do know what I'm feeling, it is much easier to act in an appropriate way to protect my self or others, because the feeling leads me reasonably directly to the cause.
Then there is the gift my granddaughter has for imaginary play. She can easily, at a moments notice, be anything! She knows the difference between "reality" and imagination, but has no reservations in switching in a split second into an imaginary persona or situation. She is a drama queen, running around the banquet hall in a sweat, hand to brow, exclaiming : "I can't let anyone see me like this!" Or we make an "appointment" , switch roles, she is Gramma and I am Kaylee. Kaylee talks like Gramma and I talk like Kaylee. But she doesn't like to have me mimic her tone too exactly--having to defend her honour after all--forgetting that we are playing at roles, chiding me, "Don't say that, Gramma," meaning she does not care for my caricature of her at all.
She really enjoys the way certain words and phrases feel when she says them. Recently it was "very funny, ha-ha" repeated in very appropriate places in conversation, over and over again. Also, lately she's been heard to ask: " What's all the commotion?" That is a phrase which feels deliciously full and impertinent in the mouth, doesn't it?
An odd man approached Kaylee in the store the other day when she ran a little further away from Gramma than Gramma likes. He really insulted her intelligence by asking her if she could say "baby boy", noting inconsistently that she could talk very well.
How to protect your children from potentially dangerous people? Are all strangers bad? Gramma tried to talk it over with Kaylee, explaining that neither Gramma's friend,( whose baby boy we had been admiring) nor Gramma knew the man in question, and Gramma just did not like him, Gramma did not think he was nice although he tried to be friendly, and that Gramma was glad when he went away! Kaylee had no thoughts about him at all, at least none that she wanted to express.
Hopefully, continuing the discussions regarding people Kaylee meets will allow her to make judgments, preparing her for the day when she is alone and will have to make good decisions. In the meantime, I believe the adults who care for her must protect her for many years to come, while teaching her to believe in herself and her growing ability to discern between good and bad people.
This year, the vegetable garden required very little watering, until late August and now September. Ornamental gardens did well also, although in my sandy soil, the shade beds under the maples, continued to remain quite dry, and if moistened a little by the weekly rains, they dried out quite quickly. These shady beds benefited from a mulch from the compost bins. Of course, the potted plants needed nearly daily watering, as rain was shed off the pots by the plants.
I tried to take cuttings of dwarf burning bush, berberis, bridal wreath spirea, and rosemary--unsuccessfully. Well, there may be hope for one each of the berberis, and spirea. That will be something I'll have to work on. I did succeed with cuttings of Japanese spurge, and weigela.I had much better luck with the seedlings of gold mound spirea that I replanted as a hedge along the driveway, and the self sown seedlings of nicotiana, dill, cosmos, borage and mullein which I replanted in various spots about the garden.
The nicotiana around the front walk and front porch, shaded still by the remaining half Manitoba maple (see below re how it became a half) are lovely, particularly in the evening, when their whiteness pops out of the shadows, long after other flowers disappear into the dusk. On some still evenings, if there is some moisture in the air, the scent of nicotiana is bewitching.
I planted the cosmos in the vegetable garden where the cheery pinks were a pretty contrast to the blue borage blossoms. I hope they reseed again next spring, when I hope to start a cutting garden of annuals somewhere in a sunny spot.
Some things planted under the huge Manitoba maple when I moved here, have languished in the sudden exposure to more sunlight. This is due to the crash of fully 1/2 of this huge tree last fall. The remaining 1/2 is leaning dangerously. I moved three clumps of a yellow-blooming dead nettle to the shady beds under the maples. It has suffered also from the dryness, so I have had to water it frequently.
The Unbelievable lack of hydrangea blooms for the family celebration of my daughter's marriage on the Labour Day weekend, prompted me to plant an Annabelle Hydrangea on the southeast corner of the house, which is partly shaded by maples and a crab apple. It too suffered from the dryness and I wondered if I shouldn't have added some humus-y compost to the soil. Another task to add to my wishful to do list.
I celebrated my 50th birthday this month. I was quite elated about it all, finding myself proud of being here at this milestone--in years, anyhow-- in a certain state of health, happiness and growth. I'm proud of what I've endured, survived, and grown through in my life. While emotionally, psychically, and spiritually I feel pretty whole, I am still working on my physical health and strength. I find yoga and belly dancing are invaluable in both the physical and psychic regard. The other area of my life that suffers still at this point, is my financial health. However, I remain optimistic that through perseverance, hope, learning, and work, this will also improve.
My conclusion therefore is, that although I'm embarking on the second 1/2 century of my life, I might need several 1/2 centuries to accomplish everything on my life's-to-do-list.
My friend Bruce suggested that while before my birthday I was 49, today I'm only 5, because everyone knows 0 is nothing! Being 5 again is pretty good! The possibilities are quite intoxicating to think about. I would not have imagined such possibilities when I was 5 the first time around. I had already discovered that I was not allowed to do an awful lot of things. The first time around, I had to just accept that the answer was "No", and the reasons for it were incomprehensible or bizarre.
Strangely enough, I believe I began to self-edit my questions pretty efficiently at a very early age, only asking about things that I expected might receive a positive answer. However, the proportion of "no's" remained the same, in relation to the number of questions I asked. By the time I answered my own questions as an adult, many permanent grooves looped from any old question at all to an automatic "no". Isn't that a sad observation of my education and upbringing?
Imagine the the joy I discovered when I realized the answers I had learned "should" be no, even when I felt the answers were really positive, were actually positive as I had felt they were all along! The converse principle in that confusing world was that things I did not want to do, did not believe I ought to do in any rational part of myself either, were things I was compelled to do by the authorities in my life.
Obligations came out of nowhere! Responsibilities extended to any number of unhealthy places. Boundaries were incomprehensible and arbitrary and changeable.
By comparison, I'm in love with my granddaughter who at age 3 is eager to "do it myself" or quite consciously manipulates people to do things for her when the mood strikes her by claiming that she "can't do it". Dressed up by her Auntie Maria for the family party to celebrate her parents marriage ( we finally celebrated over 1 1/2 years late ), she was quite matter of fact when complimented, that yes, she was very pretty. She was Cinderella and she was a Princess. Such self-assurance.
The other gift my granddaughter has, which I sometimes wish we as adults had not been disciplined to lose, is the gift of wailing or roaring our unhappiness, disappointment, frustration, pain, whatever. How brief these storms usually are in children, but we repressed adults forget to give these feelings an honest outlet. They stew away under the proper lids we placed on them, to simmer and brew and rot until the lid blows off, or lifting an innocent seeming lid one day, we are horrified to find what has been festering there in the dark. Cleaning up those messes takes a lot of work. How much better it would have been to express our feelings, let them blow away in cleansing fresh air.
As I grew up I was certainly taught that it was not safe or ok to express my feelings. And feelings not expressed soon translated to feelings that I could not even recognize and identify after a time. Now I am at the point that I have to work when I feel vague unease and discomfort, to recognize and identify my true feelings in those situations. When I do know what I'm feeling, it is much easier to act in an appropriate way to protect my self or others, because the feeling leads me reasonably directly to the cause.
Then there is the gift my granddaughter has for imaginary play. She can easily, at a moments notice, be anything! She knows the difference between "reality" and imagination, but has no reservations in switching in a split second into an imaginary persona or situation. She is a drama queen, running around the banquet hall in a sweat, hand to brow, exclaiming : "I can't let anyone see me like this!" Or we make an "appointment" , switch roles, she is Gramma and I am Kaylee. Kaylee talks like Gramma and I talk like Kaylee. But she doesn't like to have me mimic her tone too exactly--having to defend her honour after all--forgetting that we are playing at roles, chiding me, "Don't say that, Gramma," meaning she does not care for my caricature of her at all.
She really enjoys the way certain words and phrases feel when she says them. Recently it was "very funny, ha-ha" repeated in very appropriate places in conversation, over and over again. Also, lately she's been heard to ask: " What's all the commotion?" That is a phrase which feels deliciously full and impertinent in the mouth, doesn't it?
An odd man approached Kaylee in the store the other day when she ran a little further away from Gramma than Gramma likes. He really insulted her intelligence by asking her if she could say "baby boy", noting inconsistently that she could talk very well.
How to protect your children from potentially dangerous people? Are all strangers bad? Gramma tried to talk it over with Kaylee, explaining that neither Gramma's friend,( whose baby boy we had been admiring) nor Gramma knew the man in question, and Gramma just did not like him, Gramma did not think he was nice although he tried to be friendly, and that Gramma was glad when he went away! Kaylee had no thoughts about him at all, at least none that she wanted to express.
Hopefully, continuing the discussions regarding people Kaylee meets will allow her to make judgments, preparing her for the day when she is alone and will have to make good decisions. In the meantime, I believe the adults who care for her must protect her for many years to come, while teaching her to believe in herself and her growing ability to discern between good and bad people.
posted by Kati at 3:04 p.m.
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