Slow living: Gardening

We've been deluged with 
rain this spring.  My front yard is a virtual swamp, and I'm about ready to go find a little flat-bottomed boat to get in and out of here.  The mud-boots I bought last year have been a Godsend.

I've started a little garden. Everything is in pots: some small, some larger and some that will be in grow-boxes made from storage tubs, with a special watering system.  (not an affiliate link: http://www.gardenanywherebox.com/) 

I'm absolutely delighted that the beans, peas and carrots I planted in two inches of soil have taken root and begun to sprout. I purchased larger tomatoes, squash and zucchini that will go in the grow boxes along with the seedlings.The rain barrel is finally set up, and the boxes are ready for soil and plants, as soon as my weather-related asthma lets met get busy.



 

The only things of my porch-garden that survived the winter were a pot of chrysanthemums (about to bloom!) and a thyme. So I replaced the herbs: basil, oregano, English Thyme, sage, lavender, flat-leaf parsley, dianthus (Odessa Pierrot), rosemary (not doing well) and some sedge that is drought tolerant.  I plan to put that in a border along the front of the house, along with some yarrow.


    


There is something deeply spiritual, calming, rejuvenating about digging in the dirt. Tending a garden takes us right out of the hectic man-made-time, and brings us back to Earth, back to the rhythm of Nature herself.
This is the basis of my simple and charmed life: getting out of the rat-race, and embracing a slower pace; breathing and taking as much time as is needed.

Spring forward

It's Spring here in North Texas. Volatile weather conditions are normal; thunderstorms,  warm fronts, cold fronts, tornadoes, and flash floods abound. But so does the simple beauty of wildflowers lining the roads, and trees in full bloom, exhaling a cloud of yellow pollen.

Mother Nature is busy now. Plants are growing,  blooming; birds are nesting,  hatching, singing, flying.

I have been busy,  too. Unfortunately I have allowed myself to be distracted by the needs of "the job", to the detriment of my creativity and spirituality. I'm staying longer hours at the job I'll be leaving in a few short months. But I've also been trying to make time to write, letting characters grow and allowing the story to wind vine-like, until it takes on a life of its own. And I'm working on other projects that I intend will bring in another revenue stream in the future.

Gypsy Reno is my ever-present editorial assistant.  She has a wonderful sense of story, and she's a grammar fiend!  She also reminds me to slow down and enjoy the process, whether it's writing,  editing, or simply sitting on the porch watching the storm come in.

I feel like I've gotten myself on the highway by accident,  and I'm caught in traffic and can't find my way home (to quote a favorite songwriter). I'm trying to remember to breathe and pay attention,  to move into the slow lane, and spot the exit ahead.  Soon I'll be able to focus on the things I love: reading,  writing,  sewing,  traveling.   And above all,  resting. 

I'm ready now to fully embrace my simple and charmed life.  It's about time.

Slow Living: Zen and the Art of Knitting

There is something deliberate about working with needles and yarn. It requires thought, focus.

I started with someone else casting on for me; just a few stitches, so I could re-learn what I had forgotten over the past way-too-many years. I fiddled with holding the yarn: too tightly, and I couldn't get the needle tip between the yarn and the other needle. Then too loosely, and the stitches bulged and sagged. The sides - at first so tidy, the stitches so tight! - became wider and wider as I added stitches to my row by (accidentally!) splitting the yarn.

I just kept knitting.


But I soon learned that my real issue was not getting used to holding the yarn.  It was getting used to holding the needles.  They didn't feel natural in my hands, like a crochet hook does. (Yarn in one hand, hook in the other & off you go!)

beginning

There is a rhythm to knitting, almost like breathing, and I was just huffing and puffing with that sharp pain in my side that says I've gone too far, too quickly....



And then... disaster.  The cat jumped in my lap, knocked the yarn to the floor, and my untidy mess of a beginning was undone.  Because it all slipped off the needle, and there I was, unable to save it.

And I just started laughing.

#justknit

I undid the sloppy beginnings, and looked up a *very slow* tutorial on casting on. (All Hail YouTube!)  I started over.

And this time, I remembered to breathe.  I let my hands relax, and my wrists, and my neck.  I didn't fret about how to hold the yarn correctly, or worry if I dropped a stitch.

I just kept knitting.
And when I sit down to watch something on TV, I pick up the project, and with no end goal in sight, I knit.  Perhaps only one row, perhaps ten.  It doesn't matter.  My racing thoughts slow down. My breath is easier, my hands relax.  This simple practice has become my meditation.


#justknit