Thursday, April 4, 2013

How Does My Garden Grow?



                     Pallet Garden


With thoughts of harvest

I turn once more to gardening, in pallets

of all things.  So small and manageable

as my hands spread  dirt

in neat rows between wooden slats.

Seeds of herbs and vegetables nestle in, bide their time,

while water and sun nurture small shoots.

Soon the small corner of the yard

fulfills that pull of nature.

The ripe joy of freshness, just born,

picked moments before gracing the table.

Sating a desire – providing sustenance

for the body, yes, but more the soul.


The idea of a pallet garden this summer sprang from a random glance on Pinterest which produced an immediate spark to have a garden again, without the work of having the large 12 x 12 raised bed garden that used to sit where the new two car garage now rests. 

http://gilannie-goddess.blogspot.com/2012/04/my-new-pallet-garden.html
I mentioned it to Steve who just happened to know where to get me a couple of pallets and my spark was on its way to becoming reality.  It’s a fairly simple process, and there are quite a few websites (best so far) I’ve found to help me along with suggestions like making sure the pallets are heated treated wood, how much soil it will take, watering tips and of course  the best vegetables for this type of growing venue.  A quick Google image search gave me the idea of adding another pallet vertically just for herbs and maybe a few strawberry plants for good measure!

And already what’s grown?  A poem!  It’s been a long time since I’ve written a poem and don’t even know how to begin apologizing for its form or meter or lack of thereof.  (Let’s just call it free verse and leave it at that.)

So how does a poem grow from my pallet garden? I can thank an online writing course I started on a whim last evening.  One of the exercises was to explore whether I prefer to write poetry or prose. Since I haven’t written any poetry for a very long time, I was surprised the above verse came so quickly.  It was a nice reminder that I enjoy writing poetry too.  And, the exercise helped me process this blog post as well that was at the idea stage but hadn’t been started yet. 

So already, my pallet garden has provided a lovely mix of passions, writing and gardening.  All this, nurtured on a whim…

Stop by again this summer, won’t you, and see what else the harvest brings?

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Prince Charming? No. Best Husband? You Bet!


Dear Buffalo Magazine,

Like most little girls I grew up wanting to marry Prince Charming. Lucky for me, that didn’t happen.  Instead, I married Steve Morgan, an honest to goodness, real life “good” guy. You know, the ones that when women talk over drinks, they list off the qualities that REALLY matter.

Every day, in some way he enhances my life. His dry wit makes me laugh, his intelligent banter provides fascinating conversation and his charm, well, he still sweeps me off my feet and makes me feel sexy at fifty years old! 

For thirty years he’s made going to the car wash a “date”, opens doors for me and clears the dinner dishes.  He plans mystery dates, ranging from sunset picnics to the occasional weekend getaway which never fail to entertain and make me feel special.

Steve’s take on the world is black and white.  There’s not a reading in the gray area on his moral compass.  Choices are based on whether it’s just the right thing to do and his mantra is to always have respect for people and their beliefs.  The faith he shows in me as an individual and as a partner laid the foundation for me to believe in myself.

You can’t be married thirty years and not go through some rough patches. There have been enough trials and tribulations to remind me that we don’t live in a fairy tale world.  He’s pulled me through the darkest times of my life and has been through a dark spell or two of his own.  But always, without fail, there is that real-life goodness providing steady ballast. 

Prince Charming?  No.  Buffalo’s Best Husband?  You bet! And my personal dream come true. Like I said, lucky me.

###

In January, a call for entries went out from Buffalo Magazine for their Buffalo's Best Husband Contest. So of course I fired off my letter, with my favorite photo of Steve and told them what made him so amazing.   Although he wasn’t the "big" winner, he was listed with his picture and a quote from my submission as one of their "favorite entries"! As I said, I am a LUCKY woman indeed and he's #1 in MY book!

 

Sunday, March 17, 2013

30 Years of Love, Honor and Cherish



In love and naïve, we stood at the altar March 19, 1983 and promised to love, honor and cherish each other.  At 20 and 21½ years old, we had no idea where those promises would lead us, only that we were committed to being together.  On Tuesday, we’ll pause to celebrate and reminisce over some of the highs and lows those promises carried us through these last thirty years.  Then on Wednesday, we’ll head into the next thirty, with the same promises, still in love, albeit a little older and wiser.    

Steve and I moved straight from our parent’s homes to our home together.  Some would say that not having that individual time of being on our own wasn’t good, but for us, it worked.  We learned early and fast how to be flexible with each other and laid the groundwork ~ in compromise and laughter. It’s been the foundation of our relationship and how we’ve approached everything, from our finances to our social life to parenting.   

We’ve been blessed - there’s been a lot of joy and laughter.  I mean lots of laughter.  Steve’s penchant for puns and dry sense of humor has carried us far.  Of course it also helps to be married to your best friend, someone you like as well as love and the one who knows you better than anyone else in the world. 

The first three decades flew by in a heartbeat. We learned what it was to be married, established our household, and became parents, settled into our careers and our community.  We lost both sets of parents and became empty nesters for a time.  On the strength of the good times, a strong foundation of teamwork, and yes, at times just sheer luck, we made it to the other side of some brutally dark times as well.  There’s nothing like coming out of a dark place to find the other standing there, realizing they helped you through it and are waiting with open arms. 

Steve supported my desire to be a stay at home mom and homemaker for the first two decades of our marriage and my lifelong quest to be a writer.  I’ve supported his career choices, his involvement in EMS and firefighting, his devotion to community service and his commitment to being a Mason.  We’ve had fun projects, successful and questionable ventures and more mystery dates than I can remember. Above all else, we’ve been truly blessed to have our son Abram, the maker of The Morgan Three, along with us on the journey for the past 24 years.    

It’s been said that a successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person.  I believe you “fall” in love once, by chance.  Staying in love is a purposeful choice. It’s work through years filled with highs and lows supported by honesty, humor and commitment.   It’s a purposeful choice to remember and practice the vows to love, honor and cherish …

It’s good to pause now and again to take a look at the whole of your life in relation to the day to day living.  Thirty years seem a good marker for that.  I don’t know what March 19, 2043 has in store for us but I do see us working our way there, through the inevitable highs and lows with love, laughter and promises.

Monday, March 11, 2013

Photos That Dance




I miss the cadence of photographs.  I mean honest to goodness, photographs taken with film that’s dropped off to a store, developed and put into albums. I miss the value of them - the value of time. Of expectation.

Steve had a simple request for me the other night.  Could I find a picture that included him, my dad, brother Keith and brother-in-law Rod?  The Fire Co.’s celebrates its 75th anniversary in May and they’re looking for “family” shots of members for the program booklet.

“Sure,” I said.  I could see the picture in my mind – knew it was somewhere in the house.  And so I started to look.  Two and a half hours later I’d gone through over 15 albums and speed glanced at hundreds of loose photos.  The picture in my “mind’s eye” was nowhere to be found, but I did chance across one taken at least 25 years ago and a few others I pulled out for good measure. 

Neither the albums nor the loose photos were in chronological order so I jumped through the past 50 years or so, setting down the box of loose photos with my first grade picture to open an album and find Steven and me when we started dating, 13 years later. There were trips that spanned the last thirty years by planes, trains and automobiles.  I was heavy, then thin (more than I remember) and every size in between.  My hair was long, then short, poker straight and permed like wild a couple of times (again, more than I remember).  Abram passed from soccer games to school concerts and Steven flowed through fire company events and his paramedic career.

There used to be a dance you had with photos.  It started before an event or holiday, when you made sure you had enough film, batteries and flash cubes.  It wasn’t a cheap venture, so quite often the one receiving the “big” Christmas gift that year was tipped off to that fact when the camera was taken out to capture the “special moment”.   There were group shots where one person inevitably blinked or that family member who always managed to be talking to the person next to them during the shot.  Pictures were taken with a specific plan in mind of it being a future gift and always, always, there were promises to get “doubles” and share.  

When the roll was finished (and sometimes this would take months and you would have Christmas, a birthday or two and the following fourth of July on the same roll), you dropped it off to be developed at the little yellow capped Fotomat booth, an island unto itself in the middle of the plaza parking lot.  Like magic, in a few days you’d go back and from inside that amazingly little space, they’d hand over your pictures. I spent many days dreaming of growing up and working in that little booth, and really believed they somehow developed them in there!    

Growing up our family pictures weren’t put into albums; you’d stumble across a box of them, or open a desk drawer to find a few hundred of them.  When I got married, I put mine in albums and did so until the middle 90’s.  Soon I didn’t drop the film off to a store, but sent the roll by mail to be developed and the pictures (with doubles to be sent to my mom in Florida) were delivered to my doorstep.  I didn’t even feel the falter in my dance step.   

In the early 2000’s I got my first digital camera and pictures got downloaded on my computer and placed in albums in the “My Pictures” tab.  Rarely were any printed – they just got sent as an email attachment.  Then came Facebook and the ability to share with family and friends online.  The dance came to an end. 

Don’t get me wrong.  I love my digital camera.  I appreciate the ability to see a picture immediately and do a re-take until everyone is smiling and looks good.  I have thousands of pictures of remodeling the house, vacations and family events.  I love posting a quick snapshot on Facebook of Steven and I as we enjoy a glass of wine while cooking steaks. 

But still, I miss the dance.  I’ve never lost myself to strolling through my online albums for hours at a time like I did the other night with my albums and loose photos.  Those photos whirled me around ‘til I was near breathless. 

Friday, February 22, 2013

My Boot Camp Touchstone

Photo courtesy: http://lumberjocks.com/projects/24369
I had to rewrite this post a couple of hours before it was scheduled for release because it was eerily similar to one my good writing friend, Elaine Kehoe posted earlier this afternoon.  We had both written about the six week “I Should Be Writing! Boot Camp” that we just finished, led by our “drill sergeant”, Lisa Romeo. 

Elaine gave an eloquent account of the class and the most important accomplishment she got from it.  Don’t miss her post.  I’m going to break the #1 blogging rule and tell you to go now - really – go read it now – then come back if you want to read my re-written post about Boot Camp and what I’m taking away as my touchstone from the class.   

You’re back?  Thanks…. so we begin… last November I wrote Lisa about participating in Boot Camp.  I told her I was thinking of investing in myself and my writing with the stipend I’d received from a piece published in Chicken Soup for the Soul and wondered if the course was for me. 

By now, you know what the course was by Elaine’s account.  So let me start with Lisa’s account to me last November of what the course is not: 
“To explain how Boot Camp works first let me tell you what Boot Camp is NOT – not a craft class (though there is an option each week to submit work for private feedback); not a motivational seminar or support group (though some writers use it solely for that); not a guilt trip; not a score-keeping situation where you compare your writing output to others. It's also not easy, in the sense that it requires you to take it on, take it seriously, not simply think of it as an extra little something.”
And she was right.  It was NOT easy.  She was TOUGH. She was DIRECT. She was HONEST. She is the most challenging, resourceful and inspiring mentor I’ve ever had. 

The six weeks were filled with lessons, assignments, daily prompts and briefs, feedback on written pieces, suggested readings, resources, techniques, tips suggested readings, and one-on-one phone calls with Lisa.  We looked at our habits, our vices and our support systems.   She ran me through my paces and helped me take stock of myself as a writer.  What it meant to me to be one. Where it wove through my past, present and future and how being one fit into the fiber of my life.  And of course, the PRIMARY GOAL OF BOOT CAMP:  To be a writer who writes regularly and to incorporate change to CONTINUE to write regularly AFTER Boot Camp ended.   

And my take away touchstone?  That would be the dual tag team of commitment and accountability. 

As a good little beginning boot camper, I wanted to please the drill sergeant and started out by feeling that the most important thing was following through on the commitment(s) made on a Monday by email to Lisa about what I would accomplish the coming week and to report favorably on them during my accountability check-ins. 

You see, commitment and follow through to others has always been a strong motivator for me.  Commitment and follow through to myself…not so much.  But a funny thing happened as I passed through those accountability checks.  I began to value the work of the commitment as much as I wanted to report it “being done.”  The work, my development as a writer, and the scope of my writing began to grow. 

Before I knew it, I’d begun to create a “writing life” for myself through my commitments.  Being a steadfast calendar person, I took to plotting my commitments by the day, week, month and year.  I penciled in time to make a writing space for myself, to write and post a blog piece, to do my assignments for Boot camp, scheduled time for writing and researching markets, and wrote down the deadlines for submissions I found interesting. 

This was a major breakthrough for me and my key to continuing to write regularly after Boot Camp.  Seeing the commitments on the calendar broke what I wanted to do into manageable pieces, gave me a sense of control over what I wanted to accomplish and nudged me into areas I’d never ventured before. I even applied for a position with a new online literary magazine as a “staff reader.”  (Application acknowledged and just waiting, waiting, waiting to hear back – keep your fingers crossed!) How the commitments grew on each other and led to different areas added variety and reignited an interest in writing that I’d lost.    

However, I know myself well enough to know that valuing the work of the commitment won’t carry me for long.  I need to be accountable.  The commitment process developed and worked for me on the basis of being accountable to someone.  So now that the six weeks have ended and my accountability to Lisa has come to a close, I’m fortunate to have made a commitment with my good friend Elaine, to be accountable to each other for our writing. AND it’s super helpful that we have all the resources Lisa put at our fingertips to help guide us. 

It’s not easy to invest in ourselves.  But every once in a while when we do, the investment comes back tenfold.  I know Boot Camp is one of those rare items that will increase in value every time I go through the materials; utilize a tip, technique or writing prompt.  It’s carrying me “onward” into my writing future. 

I’ll end as I began, breaking that #1 rule and suggest you head over to Lisa’s site now and check out the next Boot Camp that starts April 8th.  Click on the other classes and/or private coaching she offers.  She’s an investment you just can’t beat. 

Do it. Do it for yourself. Do it for your writing. Do it now.

Saturday, February 9, 2013

Be EXCELLENT to Each Other



I spotted this bumper sticker on a parked car as Steven and I strolled along a sidewalk in Maine last summer.  I actually stopped and took a picture of it.  Why?  It’s a good reminder.  It’s direct.  It’s simple. It’s honest.  And yes, it’s easy.  Easier than you think.

The word excellent scares people off.  They think it’s “over the top” and “highly ambitious” when really the definition is just “very good of its kind:  eminently good”.  Not so scary or unattainable in that light.

Being excellent is being mindful of the mundane, routine, everyday life most of us live and purposefully taking it up a notch.  It’s making life more enjoyable with an action for another, your tone of voice, a thoughtful task done. A please and thank you. It’s giving consideration to someone else’s point of view or situation – sometimes making a concession.  It’s in following through on your word and keeping a promise. 

So while it’s not anything over the top or highly ambitious, it is being eminently good, and being so consistently. It’s within everyone’s reach.  It costs nothing – it’s only the giving of yourself.    

You can be excellent in any relationship whether it’s with a partner, a child, a parent, a coworker, a sibling or a friend. We’re naturally excellent in the first blush of our relationships.  It’s easy when things are fresh and new.  Personalities haven’t clashed, differences in thoughts and beliefs haven’t surfaced, and often the challenges of life that tend to wear you down haven’t happened yet.  But then they do.  Months and years pass and it’s easy to hold a grudge, fall into a rut or begin to take for granted this other person who truly does mean so much to you.  You lose what being excellent to each other brings your relationship. 

Spotting that bumper sticker stopped me in my tracks.  You can’t be on a 30 year journey with someone and not stumble a time or two, which Steven and I have done.  But our past practices of embracing the little daily things we do for each other, the respect we feel for and show each other, the humor and the love, and the mindset of being a team, are what’s always brought us back on course and to the incredible place we are now.  A lifelong set of practices wrapped up in 5 little words on a bumper sticker.  Be Excellent to Each Other. 

Take a moment and think of the ones in your life who are important to you.  The ones you love. Go be excellent with them.  Be excellent to each other.  Do it now. Do it today. And every day that follows.