How To Raise A Flower

 

Life is tumultuous and as you age, the days turn into months, months turn into years and decades.  Take a look over your shoulder for just a minute, let your eyes gaze lovingly and the memories will swell from your brain straight up into your soul, reflecting many emotions into your misty, knowing eyes.

Love is a flower that you plant, gingerly, as a seed. You caress it, you whisper encouragement to it, place it with a couple of brother and sisters, gently into the little opening you have made for it, prepare it for it in the warm, raw, earthy ground.

You feel the warmth of the soil through your fingers, meditation, for your mind and your body, you gently cover the mound with loving fingers, with sensitivity and quiet blessings.

You learn patience, consistency, respect, work ethic. You must nurture every day yet give these flowers the opportunity to blossom on their own.

Allow them every chance to help grow with some assistance from Nature’s wily forces. You are a caretaker now.

The sun chuckles and smiles brightly, water is given to quench the Earth’s soil, keeping in mind, the right amount of water, not too much, not too little. Life, as you are learning, is about balance.

You talk to the buds starting to flourish with gratitude, thanking them for their presence in your life, for their gift to you, as they murmur their silent thanks to be alive.

Everybody brightens, the flowers flourish and your soul is filled with happiness and gratitude. Every day you say hello and good-night. Take a photograph, show your loved ones, perhaps sit next to your flower with your favorite book. You already know that it will only last a short time so enjoy every second it is alive. Their lives, like ours, live for only a short time. Embrace that time with gratitude.

Soon, when the buds dry up, we understand things don’t last forever, in your heart you will carry a picture of your journey.

Loving the process all the way through, knowing you helped nourish it, all along, having a friend.

Thank you, dear flowers for your place in our lives, in many people’s lives, for the absolute joy of watching you grow, for the perfumed smell of sweet ecstasy that slips into our hearts and whose memory lasts forever.

Advertisements

I Will Pay For This (But I Don’t Care)

A poster with twelve species of flowers or clu...

Image via Wikipedia

This afternoon was a day that gave birds reason to fly and sing. The budding trees are smiling with green flowers, the sky is light blue with puffy cotton-candy clouds. I wanted to do something that I haven’t done for so long because the pain I have from Fibromyalgia stops me. Today I wouldn’t let it; I refused. I went to the tiny patch of garden we have in the front lawn and replanted a pot full of old flowers into the ground. Granted, I couldn’t kneel because I knew I would never be able to get up but I improvised. I admit digging the dirt with just a little hand shovel was too hard but I gave it my best try. After that I hauled my eighteen year old son out, who cursed the entire time, to dig deeper for me. He doesn’t get gardening, doesn’t understand the point of it but he doesn’t have to; he just needs to help me when I ask. I also bought a little plant  at the grocery store today that looks like a round puffy white ball with red and white edges. I planted this little sweet flower by myself.  I pointed out a worm to my son, forgetting he’s 18 and not 7, and that amused me but not him.

After that I went into our shed and got out bird food for the cardinals. I have wanted to do that, literally, for years. Today, with the weather encouraging me, I did it. I felt bad in the winter when I couldn’t go in the backyard for fear of slipping in a foot of snow and ice but I knew the birds would forgive me. There are black sunflower seeds now in the lopsided bird feeder and some on the grass and the table because I don’t mind feeding squirrels either.

Doing these things made me feel alive even if now I am so stiff and achy I can barely move.  My back already hurts on my right side and my trusty old heating pad is in its proper place. I know I wasn’t standing or  bending the right way; but it doesn’t matter. This was good for my spirit: earth, grass, flowers, birds, sun and the wild wind bouncing off the houses and trees and through my shiny brown hair. Today, I felt normal, human,  real and I felt happy.

I had forgotten how much I like to put my hands in the earth, smell the musky scent, feel the softness of the dirt intertwined with harsh roots. The earth didn’t mind that my fingers were swollen and even my joint pain got swallowed up in the beauty of the sun-kissed daffodils. I will not complain tomorrow even if I am twisted into a painful pretzel. Today, I needed to do this, I needed to feel like I was part of the world. I wanted to feed the chirpy bright red cardinals that wake me up in the morning and even the fuzzy, fat squirrels that my dog wishes she could play with.  I wanted to replant something that was old and try putting something new and dainty in the ground. I brought out my empty plastic jug of pomegranate lemonade, filled it with fresh water and tended to my two plants. My knees are stiff and I had trouble walking down the stairs to get to the kitchen tonight holding on to the banister with every ounce of strength that I had left. Today, I learned, that maybe more pain is worth it if it means feeding your own soul.