Greeting Spring in the Garden

My sweetie gave me a garden sign for Christmas. It's a quote from Ruth Stout, who became famous as a garden writer in her 50s and was still lecturing in her 90s. Here's a link to her famous video.

The day of the vernal equinox is even (equinox = equal nights), with 12 hours of daylight and 12 hours of darkness. The sun rises due east and sets due west.

We aim for evenness, balance in our own actions and perhaps, especially, in our speech. This balance is not a static thing; it's constantly moving--like the sun.

So, we greet spring in our garden, knowing that the next moment will change.

The Meditative Gardener is On Retreat

I return to the garden on April 5.

Sow Poppy Seeds on Snow. Now.

Is this the last snow of the year? We can't be sure, but if it is, it's time to sow poppy seeds. Strap on your snowshoes and trek out to the flower beds where you want your annual poppies to grow. April is too late. Sow poppy seeds on snow. Now.

(If you need poppy seeds, email your snail-mail address to me at cheryl.wilfong at gmail.com, or message me through Facebook, and i'll send you some.)

What seeds do you want to sow in your life? Kindness, patience, tolerance, skillful speech?

We can sow those seeds now, even if our inner climate is cold and snowy, dark and dreary. Simply begin now with a few moments of mindfulness.

Standing Meditation at the Post Office

I went to the post office this morning and bought stamps. Flower stamps of course. I always buy flower stamps. And i got some of the new postcard stamps of blue hummingbirds.

I still use stamps, lots of stamps actually. I'm always amazed at the person in front of me in line who buys 1 stamp. Wow. I have no idea what their life is like. Mine involves paying bills. Even though many bills are now paid by automatic withdrawal from my checking account, i still need several stamps a week for bills. A couple of postcard stamps each week to send postcards to our grandchildren whom we don't see very often. And (hint, hint) stamps to send poppy seeds to faithful readers like you. (This is an enticement to read Friday's post.)

Standing in line at the post office is a great opportunity to practice standing meditation. Simply being mindful of standing. Or mindful of eavesdropping. Or mindful of the opinions and judgments running through my mind. One stamp! How do they do that?

Back and Forth

The other person in my house moved the winter flowerpot, with greens and a gazing globe, off the front step in December. He didn't want to shovel snow around it. So today, while he was taking the lights off the outdoor Christmas tree, i surreptitiously moved the greens + gazing globe flowerpot out of the garage and back onto the front step.

A month from now, i'll decorate the front step with pansies, but until then, a dash of green looks pretty good. Well, yes, snow is predicted for tomorrow, but shoveling the front step is my job, so i'm happy to have snow and a flowerpot.

The flowerpot stresses him; it doesn't stress me. Taking the lights off the outdoor Christmas tree stresses me (sigh!); but not him. He dislikes gazing globes; i enjoy them.

We could go back and forth all day, claiming our point of view is right, and his (or their) point of view is wrong. The mind seems to love this right/wrong, good/bad duality. And therein lies the source of our stress.

In truth, the Christmas lights have been taken down. I don't really need to have an opinion about it. My opinion = stress. I've moved the flowerpot to the front step, but tomorrow i may find it back in the garage again. Change happens. That is all.

Photo from greenlandgarden.com

Generous with Daffodils

Yesterday i gave a Dharma talk at Valley Insight Meditation Society in Lebanon, New Hampshire. Doris, who sets up the room, drives more than an hour to sit with the sangha on the second Sunday of each month.

The group gathers in the lovely library of the AVA Gallery and Art Center, located in a former factory. Doris arranges the chairs and sets up a little side table with a Buddha, a votive candle, and a small bouquet of flowers.

Both the candle and the flowers remind us of impermanence. The flame flickers, never the same flame, but never exactly different either. The daffodils remind us of upcoming spring and the impermanence of winter and the snow that surrounds us.

At the end of the sit, when Doris extinguished the candle, she offered the daffodils to me. Oh, graceful generosity.

In the Pink

"In the Pink" is the theme of the Smith College Bulb Show, with the centerpiece of the show being entirely pink.

The word "pink" comes from Dianthus, commonly called pinks. And they were called "pinks" due to their pinked edges (think: pinking shears).

Dianthus a.k.a Pinks

We no longer use the word "pinked," but the noun "pink" is part of our daily vocabulary.

Shakespeare first used "pink" in the sense of "the best of," as "the pink of health" or "tickled pink."

The best qualities are the Divine Abodes, also called the Heavenly Houses or the Sublime States:

1. Loving-Kindness
2. Compassion
3. Appreciative Joy or Gladness
4. Equanimity

I've never thought of these Sublime States as pink before, but why not? They put us in the pink of mental health and happiness.

I was tickled pink to be at the Bulb Show with some of my best girlfriends.

Tickled pink--another word for joy.

Photos from wiseacre-gardens.com and parkwholesaleplants.com