Sunday, December 25, 2011
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Decorate the Garden Gate
How to keep Santa's reindeer (and other deer) out of the vegetable garden?
A couple of years ago, i pushed 10-foot tall rebar poles into the ground beside my fence posts. Then i strung nylon twine between these tall, but slender, "fenceposts."
For the gate, i had the building supply store bend a 20-foot piece of rebar into a big upside-down U, 8 feet tall on each side and 4 feet wide at the top. Not until the second summer did the deer figure out that they could jump over the gate (and under the rebar) and munch their midnight snack in the garden.
What to do? I cut a shiny old Christmas garland into sections and hung them from the top of the rebar |¯|.
How do we keep our mental, verbal, and behavioral pests at bay? Mindfulness is our first and strongest deterrent.
First, we have to get to know that pesky thought, that nettlesome rejoinder, or that vexing action. Notice how the body feels just after your particular "pest" has appeared. No need to judge yourself; what's done is done. We are on the hunt, so we have to be stealthy--alert and calm.
When we finally see how our particular pest gains entry, then we will know how to strengthen our defenses. It may be something as fun and flowing as an old Christmas tree garland.
A couple of years ago, i pushed 10-foot tall rebar poles into the ground beside my fence posts. Then i strung nylon twine between these tall, but slender, "fenceposts."
For the gate, i had the building supply store bend a 20-foot piece of rebar into a big upside-down U, 8 feet tall on each side and 4 feet wide at the top. Not until the second summer did the deer figure out that they could jump over the gate (and under the rebar) and munch their midnight snack in the garden.
What to do? I cut a shiny old Christmas garland into sections and hung them from the top of the rebar |¯|.
How do we keep our mental, verbal, and behavioral pests at bay? Mindfulness is our first and strongest deterrent.
First, we have to get to know that pesky thought, that nettlesome rejoinder, or that vexing action. Notice how the body feels just after your particular "pest" has appeared. No need to judge yourself; what's done is done. We are on the hunt, so we have to be stealthy--alert and calm.
When we finally see how our particular pest gains entry, then we will know how to strengthen our defenses. It may be something as fun and flowing as an old Christmas tree garland.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Winter Rallies
The first day of winter is feeling like the first day of spring. Temperatures in the 40s. Slightly muddy dirt roads. A dusting of wet snow that melts as soon as the sun hits it. Blue skies. Chickadees singing. Where am i? Out in the vegetable garden, picking bok choy, mizuna, and red Russian kale. Okay, and maybe some johnny-jump-up flowers for the salad :)
This is a winter like they have in the Pacific Northwest. Fall followed by a cold snap, maybe a dusting of snow, and then a spring that ever-so-slowly unwinds from the end of January into May. But here in the North Country, we do not have the moderating influence of the Pacific Ocean. We are on the tail end of Alberta clippers, the winds that come racing down the plains, and the snow that is born out of the Great Lakes.
So far, winter is only teasing us with almost-cold and almost-snow.
As a hospice volunteer, i know that sometimes a dying person rallies when she knows her loved ones are coming from far away. All of a sudden, she looks pretty good, and maybe she's actually eating too. The loved ones think Maybe she's not on her deathbed, after all. But a day or two passes, the rally ends, and the dying person sinks, perhaps into a coma.
Winter is rallying now. She's looking very good. Haggard and barren, yes, but also somehow young.
Simply live this day.
This is a winter like they have in the Pacific Northwest. Fall followed by a cold snap, maybe a dusting of snow, and then a spring that ever-so-slowly unwinds from the end of January into May. But here in the North Country, we do not have the moderating influence of the Pacific Ocean. We are on the tail end of Alberta clippers, the winds that come racing down the plains, and the snow that is born out of the Great Lakes.
So far, winter is only teasing us with almost-cold and almost-snow.
As a hospice volunteer, i know that sometimes a dying person rallies when she knows her loved ones are coming from far away. All of a sudden, she looks pretty good, and maybe she's actually eating too. The loved ones think Maybe she's not on her deathbed, after all. But a day or two passes, the rally ends, and the dying person sinks, perhaps into a coma.
Winter is rallying now. She's looking very good. Haggard and barren, yes, but also somehow young.
Simply live this day.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Solstice Bonfire
My solstice party. It's always a task to move a convivial gathering out of our cozy candlelit house into winter coats and boots and down the driveway to the solstice bonfire.
This solstice day, rain began in mid-afternoon--a cold, raw rain--but the forecast showed a few breaks in the clouds. I kept my ear tuned to our metal roof, and at 6:45, after it had already been dark for 2 hours, the pitter-patter stopped.
The fire signs (2 Leos and 1 Sagittarius) dashed out of the house into the dark with paper, kindling, and matches. We didn't want the influence of any water signs (Pisces, Cancer, Scorpio), thank you very much.
Within minutes, the fire blazed, and we invited the rest of the party outdoors for smudging, pomegranates (a la Persephone), and anointing.
The solar year died this morning at 12:30 EST. Now the sun begins its long trek north again. The large brush pile, which became a corpse of glowing embers, also died. Meanwhile, we sang and talked for an hour outdoors before i felt the first raindrop, which died its raindrop death on my cheek, where it became running water.
Winter begins.
This solstice day, rain began in mid-afternoon--a cold, raw rain--but the forecast showed a few breaks in the clouds. I kept my ear tuned to our metal roof, and at 6:45, after it had already been dark for 2 hours, the pitter-patter stopped.
The fire signs (2 Leos and 1 Sagittarius) dashed out of the house into the dark with paper, kindling, and matches. We didn't want the influence of any water signs (Pisces, Cancer, Scorpio), thank you very much.
Within minutes, the fire blazed, and we invited the rest of the party outdoors for smudging, pomegranates (a la Persephone), and anointing.
The solar year died this morning at 12:30 EST. Now the sun begins its long trek north again. The large brush pile, which became a corpse of glowing embers, also died. Meanwhile, we sang and talked for an hour outdoors before i felt the first raindrop, which died its raindrop death on my cheek, where it became running water.
Winter begins.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Extreme Darkness
Today is winter solstice--a day of extremes--the shortest day, the longest night. The year 2011 has slipped away, never to return. Our life is slipping away. One year: Gone.
Shall we take the hedonistic approach to "eat, drink, and be merry"? Shall we consume as much as our pocketbooks and consumer society will allow? Or does that wind up feeling like "empty calories"? Full of stuff, stuffing ourselves and our homes, yet oddly dissatisfied, oddly empty.
In the Buddha's time (and also in the Middle Ages), some people thought they could attain heaven by self-mortification.
These are the extremes: hedonism or self-mortification.
But let us consider The Middle Way, the way between extremisms, a path of moderation. In this time of extreme darkness, how might we practice the Middle Way between self-judgment ("I'm so bad.") and ego-tripping ("Look at me! Aren't I great!")?
"Be a lamp unto yourself," the Buddha said. In these days of darkness--external or internal--notice your inner light. Sit. Meditate--even if only for 5 minutes.
Notice the flicker of kindness in your heart. Fan that ember so that it glows throughout the front of your body. Spread that feeling of goodwill throughout the back of your body. Spread it through the right side of your body. Spread it through the left side of your body.
Sit. Feel the body filled with kindness.
Shall we take the hedonistic approach to "eat, drink, and be merry"? Shall we consume as much as our pocketbooks and consumer society will allow? Or does that wind up feeling like "empty calories"? Full of stuff, stuffing ourselves and our homes, yet oddly dissatisfied, oddly empty.
In the Buddha's time (and also in the Middle Ages), some people thought they could attain heaven by self-mortification.
These are the extremes: hedonism or self-mortification.
But let us consider The Middle Way, the way between extremisms, a path of moderation. In this time of extreme darkness, how might we practice the Middle Way between self-judgment ("I'm so bad.") and ego-tripping ("Look at me! Aren't I great!")?
"Be a lamp unto yourself," the Buddha said. In these days of darkness--external or internal--notice your inner light. Sit. Meditate--even if only for 5 minutes.
Notice the flicker of kindness in your heart. Fan that ember so that it glows throughout the front of your body. Spread that feeling of goodwill throughout the back of your body. Spread it through the right side of your body. Spread it through the left side of your body.
Sit. Feel the body filled with kindness.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Distress and Eustress
My gardening is reduced to puttering in my solarium, which is crowded with houseplants. Yesterday i took cuttings of a leggy coleus, and they are making an interesting "bouquet" in a glass of water while i wait for them to root.
Time to give several plants a "haircut" while i'm at it. Several plants are leggy from reaching for the distant sun.
Distress and eustress. Distress: the dissatisfaction of not gardening outdoors. Eustress: the stress of happiness, puttering with houseplants.
Time to give several plants a "haircut" while i'm at it. Several plants are leggy from reaching for the distant sun.
Distress and eustress. Distress: the dissatisfaction of not gardening outdoors. Eustress: the stress of happiness, puttering with houseplants.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Heat Loss
The bare ground is freezing now. With no snow cover, the frost begins t sink into the earth. Water, though is still not frozen.
Heat recedes as the sun is veiled by a thin haze day after day. Nights are clear and crisp, the waning moon in sharp focus. Nighttime radiational cooling is not balanced by daytime radiatinal warming, so the cold is winning over heat loss.
Winter winds win. The body of earth gives up its heat. Do we think our own bodies are any different?
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