Vacation Day

 Merry Rainy Day. 55 degrees and 2 inches of rain, which melted our 20 inches of snow. 

I took advantage of the thaw to run out to the garden and dig up more Jerusalem artichokes and pull the last of the turnips. Now there is truly nothing remaining in the garden. Nothing. Empty.

Still, i feel delighted to wander around my garden. Some green growing plants give me joy as a warm southern breeze melts more snow.

Winter returns tomorrow. But today, we had a vacation.

Camellias

We are taking a break from mud season in the North Country by taking a vacation in the Florida panhandle where camellias are blooming. Delicate camellias are short-lived; they quickly turn brown and pass away. Yet while they live, i can't take my eyes off them. So lovely. So young. So full of promise.

A 38-year-old friend has been diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer. She is opting for wholistic treatment, and she is extremely clear about this. She has two young children. She bought an old house a couple of years ago and has refurbished it. So lovely. So young. So full of promise.

Houseplants in the Tropics

The very small garden (4' x 4') at our vacation condo's front door is crowded with plants that i have in my solarium at home. Banana tree, variegated scheffilera, agave.

Here in their native habitat in the tropics, they thrive and look lush. My houseplants at home--banana tree, plain green scheffilara--look pathetic in comparison.

During their summer vacation outdoors, my houseplants perk up and look lush. Then i bring them in doors and they start to decline and look piqued.

I have houseplants in the first place for the joy they bring me. Ahhh. Green and growing plants. Some, like geraniums, with flowers.

When the mind compares my housebound North Country plants to the tropics, i and my houseplants always lose.

The comparing mind can't help but compare. That is its main job. And the comparison? Useless. Really useless.

I'm sinking into the beauty of what is. Right here. Right now.

Walking on Ice

Baby, it's cold outside. 

It was 8 degrees this morning. The driveway has turned into a rutted ice sheet, which fortunately has been sanded. Still, i strap grippers onto the bottom of my boots, just in case. Last week, Bill slipped on a patch of ice hiding under snow, and ka-boom, was suddenly lying on his back. Our 81-year-old neighbor strapped on his ice skates for the first time this season, fell on the ice 5 minutes later, and broke his elbow. Ouch!

I'm very grateful that Bill was unscathed from his fall. We are leaving soon for a tropical vacation, so i'm thankful Life didn't throw me a curve ball last week. For the moment, we can go on pretending that we are in charge of our lives.

I walk across the ice gingerly--never knowing, for sure, what will happen with the next mindful step.

The Negativity Bias of the Mind

Pam's question about the heat, humidity, and mosquitoes of September demonstrates an interesting fact about our minds.

Our minds are like Velcro for the negative and like Teflon for the positive.

Millennia of evolution have created our brains to be on the look-out for danger, so, of course, we are alert to heat, humidity, and mosquitoes. This is called the Negativity Bias. It enabled our cave woman ancestors to survive.

For some of us, a positive outlook goes against the grain. So it takes some mind-training to accent-u-ate the positive.

Begin by noticing the little good things--people, events, situations--in your life. These are probably very ordinary. Write down 3 gratitudes. Right now.

Today the purple asters are blooming.
The chickadees eat seeds out of Bill's hand.
We are going on vacation.

Feel into each one of gratitudes. Savor it. Soak into it in the body.
Smile.

Keep it up.
In time, this positivity and happiness will become natural. But in the meantime, fake it till you make it.

Loose Strife

I did find 3 weeds to pull here at the vacation house on the lake. Down on the beach, i pulled up 3 plants of the invasive purple loosestrife.

"Oh, but it's so pretty," more than one gardener has said to me. "I'll keep an eye on it."

Keep an eye on 3 million seeds per plant?

Listen to the name again, my dear: loose - strife. Strife means conflict, discord, and opposition. Why would anyone want to let strife loose in their garden?

Oh, this loose strife has such a lovely disguise. Perhaps not unlike the opinions and judgments we let loose toward friends and family. Ouch, that hurt.

"Oh, they're just a wuss if they can't take it," we rationalize.

Once we have loosed strife into the world, we are the owners of our actions. We cannot retract our words.

Our tender hearts are kind and friendly. Pull those strife-causing opinions, and don't let them go to seed.

Remember your intentions: We want to harvest calmness and happiness.

Vacation from My Garden

I'm relaxing at the lake this week. The vacation house has a lawn, a few trees, and a view of the lake. Ahhh. So relaxing.

The flower gardens consist of 2 flower pots on the deck. That's it. There's not a single weed for me to pull. And i have to admit, it's pretty relaxing not to have to be at the mercy of pleasant and unpleasant. It's pretty relaxing to simply relax into is-ness. The lake is lapping. The breeze is blowing. That's all.

As much as i love my gardens, it is very relaxing to have a vacation from looking at them.

AstroTurf in the Backyard

The Airbnb condo we are staying at in Aruba has a backyard covered with AstroTurf. I've never lived with AstroTurf before, but it's a great solution for this enclosed yard that's the size of a living room and in a desert climate.

Of course, AstroTurf looks fake. It looks like green carpet, which it is. And i have to say, it looks boring because it's so uniform. Yet, the green (plastic) grass feels cool and inviting.

This is just the formula for how we are seduced into things / people / situations that we think will make us happy. It (whatever "it" is) looks lovely and inviting. Not until we are walking on it or with it or through it do we realize "it" is fake--that mundane happiness doesn't last.

Yes, this mundane happiness of vacation in Aruba won't last either.

Tropical Plants in the Tropics

My sweetie and i are vacationing in Hawai'i for a week. Croton, ginger, and bird of paradise are growing right outside the door of the condo we are renting for a few days.

Oh, how i love to see these "houseplants" in their native setting. They look so happy and vigorous. I used to aspire to growing these tropical plants at home, but now the sight of tropical plants in the tropics is enough to make me want to stop growing these plants at home. Their cousins in the North Country--at least in my solarium--are pale and leggy by comparison.

We are at our best when we put ourselves in the proper environment to grow the beautiful qualities of mind we want to grow. Sometimes that means not listening to the news.

Or, if we decide to listen to the news, take it in teaspoonsful and antidote any negativity with 5 teaspoons of goodness.

This week, the good i am focusing on is being on vacation with my sweetie and luxuriating in the tropical foliage i love.

Late Harvest

photo from www.quickcrop.ie

We are leaving for vacation tomorrow, which means giving all the vegetables in the refrigerator away. Finding a home for the red peppers was easy. I sun-dried one rack of Sungold cherry tomatoes. I decided to keep my 6 red cabbage, ranging in size from small to smallest.

In order not to have any leftovers, i cooked up the smallest cabbage tonight with some homegrown onions and the only remaining apple. Delicious.

When it comes to the end of our own season, we will be harvesting the mind we've been training all these years. The untrained mind may be unpredictable. The trained mind, the mind accustomed to mindfulness, has a much better chance of viewing the ending of the season of the life more calmly.

The seasons change.

Sunflower Bouquet

My neighbor's mother is dying. While i was on vacation last week, my neighbor, Dee, came over and cut some sunflowers from my gardens to take to her mother, who hasn't eaten for days. I feel so happy that Dee made herself at home in my flowerbeds and felt free enough to simply take what she needed.

I let go of flowers.
Dee is letting go of her mother.
Dee's mother is letting go of life.

Houseplants Come Indoors

The houseplants have come indoors after a 5-month summer vacation. Wow! That is the longest summer vacation they've ever had.

For years, i brought my houseplants in on Labor Day weekend. Then... Shall we call it global warming? This is the first year the plants have stayed outdoors until October, and still there's no forecast of frost.

We can put our minds on vacation, any time we want. Simply pause the story you are telling yourself. The mind-vacation may not be long. Maybe half-a-second. Maybe a whole second. Notice it. Breathe into it. Before the mind launches into its next "and then...." Pause. Take a break from that stressful story. Notice you are breathing.

The houseplants are breathing indoors now. Ahhh. Fresh air!

Chinooks

The wind blew all night long, making us restless sleepers. We assumed it was a cold front blowing in, and yet, this morning is (relatively) warm--34 degrees, which even feels warm.

Here in the North Country (of the east), we are not accustomed to the chinooks of northern Montana and southern Alberta--the warm, dry air that blows down the eastern slopes of the Rockies and melts a foot of snow by noon. Chinooks give  a mini-vacation from the Arctic deep-freeze, and then, winter returns, full blast.

The breath of winter is warm now. We could call it the January thaw, although, surprisingly, the skiing is still good (i.e., not icy).

Feel the warm air exhaling from your body right now.
Cool air in.
Warm air out.

Take a mini-vacation from stress.
The wind of your body, always changing, sometimes restless, sometimes calm.

And how is the wind that enlivens your body different from the wind that surrounds you?
That wind may be restless, or it may be calm.

The wind is blowing.
That is all.

Latest Sunrise

Today is the day of the latest sunrise. Beginning tomorrow, we gain a few more seconds of daylight every morning.

Evenings already have 16 more minutes of daylight than they did on December 7, the day of the earliest sunset. Beginning tomorrow, we gain daylight at both ends of the day. Glorious daylight.

In our darkest days, we keep practicing mindfulness, sometimes through sheer faith. Then our faith is verified as we see occasional glimmers of light resulting from noticing the serenity of the present moment. In this moment, the mind calms and a flicker of happiness gleams for half a second. Notice this mini-vacation from darkness.

Could we take a vacation in the present moment? A stay-cation of staying at home in the here and the now.

Chasing the Pleasant

My plants are like pets this week. Outdoors. Indoors. Outdoors. Indoors. Now that the freezing weather has ended, they can go outdoors again and stay there.

People around here are returning from a week of spring vacation, but for my plants, summer vacation is beginning.

Our own constant motion is an attempt to find a pleasant place to abide. But pleasantness is fleeting. Out bodies keep chasing warmth--sometimes flying thousands of miles to find it. Or we chase coolness. We chase comfort. When we sit still, the body in meditation, our mind continues to chase pleasantness by daydreaming or dozing.

Come home to your body. Rest right here in its changing sensations.
Come home to the mind and its kaleidoscope of changing thoughts.

Allow pleasantness to come and go, just like it always does.

Grounded in Meditation

My sweetie and i vacation a few times a year. He would love to travel now to see spring gardens in the South, but i'm grounded.

April and May are intensive gardening months here at home. I'm not going anywhere. I can't even imagine why people would willingly leave home, because the schools have spring break this week. Outdoors is sufficient vacation for me.

Wherever you are, ground yourself in your meditation practice. Vacation is a particularly difficult time to keep meditation practice going. Just sit in bed; fold your bed pillow in two, and sit with your back against the wall.

I don't need a vacation from my garden, and none of us needs a vacation from our meditation practice.

Summer Vacation

Summer vacation begins early for my houseplants, like schools in rural counties that let out early so kids can work on the farm. I grew up next to a cornfield and a soybean field. My school year ended in mid-May. A generation earlier, my Depression-era farmboy father graduated from high school on April 30, 1936.

My houseplants have been cooped up indoors since last September and are looking a bit pale and piqued despite frequent trips to the water fountain and their cafeteria lunches of fish emulsion.

Outdoors, houseplants love being exposed to the elements--rain and wind strengthen their leaves and their roots that wiggle their toes ever more deeply into the earthy soil of their containers. Although they are sheltered from direct sun, they catch the bouncing rays.

Earth, air, water, warmth. We ourselves are made of the same stuff as the geraniums and the jade plant.