Garden of Weedin'

WEEDS!!!!  My garden would look so much better without them.  They are uninvited guests to my party.  Some say that weeds are just flowers nobody wants or they are flowers that haven’t been cultivated.  Fine, but they’re still weeds to me.  If it weren’t for them, I could reduce my garden work to pruning and watering.  

The worst offender is something called Creeping Charlie.  It has small leaves; they range in size from about a nickel to quarter.  “Big deal”, you say, “What’s the problem with a nickel size weed?”  The problem is that it clones itself every inch or so, sending out runners in every direction.  The runners set-down roots every three to four inches.  As the runners begin to crisscross each other, they form a thick mat which kills off all other growth.

 

Like most weeds, if you don’t get the roots, the weed comes back.  So, it’s possible to pull on all the runners, and miss the roots.  In addition, Creeping Charlie likes to hide at the base of other plants.  You can get all the visible runners and roots, only to have the hidden Creeping Charlie send out runners in days.

Toss in all the other possible weeds, and they can over-run a garden very quickly.  They get a head-start, in the cooler, wet weather, before most gardeners are even interested in being outside.  They continue to flourish during the “monsoons” we get here in the Midwest.  The weeds grow, while I’m trying to stay dry; totally unfair!!!!

 

Okay, so what do weeds have to do with Lessons from the Garden?  Weeds, like bad habits and bad attitudes, don’t wait to be invited in; they just show-up.  They invade in every direction, moving in, taking over.  Like Creeping Charlie, they can hide at the base of our intentions and actions, without our even noticing the impact they are having.

I doubt most children dreamt of finding ways to screw-up their adult lives.  Yet, we can start to take on attitudes and habits fairly young which start altering the course of our lives.  Those attitudes/habits might be “transplanted” by family, friends, education (or lack-there-of) even our entertainment.  There are a myriad influences washing over us.

As an example, take smoking.  Most of us have heard since we were very young, of the harmful effects of smoking cigarettes.  Nonetheless, how many new smokers are added to the ranks each day?  What percentage of the adults wish they had never picked-up the habit in the first place?  My guess is that the vast majority of smokers never foresaw the impact that first puff would have on their health, and self-esteem.  

If you’re a smoker, or can easily ID a bad habit in your life; what got you there?  Was it the influence of a friend or peer group?  Was it something you thought you could control; now it controls you?

Self-examination and evaluation of our attitudes is an even more difficult task than overt habits.  We can dismiss our unproductive mindsets by comparing ourselves to our perception of those around us.  “I’m doing much better than most of the people I know”.  “Sure, I’ve got a bad attitude, but I’ll never carry it to the extreme like so-and-so has”.

Lousy attitudes can cost us employment, or advancement, impact relationships, limit our horizons, or tell us a situation is hopeless, and take the wind out of our sails.

The fictional country in TEN DAYS suffers from the results of attitudes and thought patterns embraced and accepted in the country for years.  Some of those ways of viewing life were like weeds, choking-out opposing views, and warping the values which they once held dear. 

Getting my garden clear of weeds takes hours, days, or weeks of hard work, and vigilance to keep it from being over-run.  Isn’t the man I’m becoming or the person you’re becoming worth more than any garden?  Yes; we’re always in the state “of becoming”, always going through a process of change.  We need to keep on the look-out for the weeds which can ruin the garden of our lives.

The Three Year Rule

I’ve got a “three year rule”.  It applies to the plants in my garden.  “What is the three year rule?”  I’m glad you asked. Most perennials take at least three years to even begin to look like those wonderful plants you see in the catalogs. It’s easy to become discouraged when my well (?) thought through plans for the garden don’t match-up with the visual image I had in my mind.

Many folks may not know that plants will often perform better in some places in the yard than in others.  Not only is there a difference in the amount of sunlight, but the soil type and the amount of water that an area receives can differ, even within the same yard. Often finding this right place for each plant is as much guesswork as it is anything else.  Different plants require differing amounts of water and sunshine. Since Hostas are generally shade loving plants, it drives me nuts to see someone plant Hostas in full sunshine, in the middle of their yards.  Talk about asking for failure. The Hostas might survive, but their leaves will burn, and the plant wilts.  They never live up to their full potential. 

 

Even within the Hosta family of plants, the different members of the family like differing amounts of sunshine, water - not to mention soil type. I have at least eight types of Hosta.  One kind took me trying four different locations to find just the right place for them.  The other types of Hostas around them were doing well, but they weren’t. After years of them barely looking alive, they are now flourishing.

Besides the overall condition of the plants, I need to consider the total scheme of the garden; how does one plant look next to another and how does it contribute or detract from the appearance of the garden?

Some plants require a lot of water; others will wilt and die if they get too much water.  Years ago, I planted Hydrangeas (water loving) next to Cone flowers (not big fans of water). What a mess!  What was good for the Hydrangeas was the kiss-of-death for the Cone flowers.

Humans could sometimes use a “three year rule”.  Maybe not exactly three years, maybe 5-10 years, occasionally something far less than three years. We get comfortable in our surroundings, even though we’re not flourishing – we could even be wilting.  Life is just there, lacking passion, a sense of purpose.

It could be our job or our circle of friends, family, patterns of thought and of daily living, that are keeping us trapped.  We’ve stopped dreaming, stopped setting goals, we are no longer challenged to be more than we currently are.

None of these things, friends, jobs, the patterns of our thought-life, family, have to be inherently bad to be not doing us any good.  They just aren’t providing venues for intellectual, mental, physical, emotional, or spiritual growth. We could be just living, just getting by, just here.

As I wrote Tens Days, I had to be willing to make changes, to listen to others.  Some of my favorite parts of the book developed because someone said they didn’t understand what I was trying to say.  Still others wanted to be drawn into some scenes more, and therefore, the scenes had to be expanded.

I’m not encouraging change for the sake of change. Merely look around and evaluate. Like when a gardener decides to move a plant from one location to another; what are you trying to achieve?  What do you want the “new” you to look like, what’s it going to take to get there? Most of the time, my garden doesn’t need a complete makeover, simply some adjustments.  Things die, become overgrown, aren’t living up to their potential.  You might be in just the right place, or maybe it’s time to make changes.

Down Unexpected Paths

 The last couple of weeks, I’ve been putting forth a major effort to get my gardens cleaned-up and ready for some new plants.  It gave me lots of time to think.  Hours in the hot sun, fighting with the weeds-from-hell will do that to you.  

More than fifteen years ago, I started on my perennial flower gardens.  It wasn’t intentional, I sort of fell into it.  Back then I had no idea what an impact my new hobby would have on me.  There are tons of lessons to be learned from gardening.  I’d like to share some of those thoughts.

First is that life can lead us down some totally unexpected paths?  I had no real plans to get into gardening.  My wife and I had tried a couple of vegetable gardens, with less-than-encouraging success.  I never really got excited about it.  Covering the yard in cement and painting it green sounded like a good idea, back then…..at times, it still does.

It wasn’t until I planted my first rose bush, that I got “bitten-by-bug”.  It was called a rose blanket.  Simple to plant, and easy to care for, I loved it.  The soft pink, tiny, roses added a splash of color to our otherwise bland backyard.

I experienced success with that little bush, and it lead to a desire for a bit more.  My wife had been encouraging me to find a hobby, maybe this was it!  Since I’m a visual person by nature, it was a near perfect fix.  I started to look at flower catalogs, and visit the various garden shops with Connie.

I said “near perfect” for a reason.  While I have always enjoyed flowers, when it came to gardening, I didn’t have a clue what I was doing.  In a future blog, I’ll share some of my missteps I experienced along the way.

So, the lesson from the garden today is - be willing to travel down some unexpected paths.  We can get in ruts, limiting ourselves.  Sometimes it’s because of fear of failure in trying something new, other times it’s because we have failed, and didn’t like the experience.  Maybe it’s just a fear of the unknown.  

I have started down the path of an author/writer, and have no real idea where it will take me.  Like gardening, I know I’ve got a ton to learn.  There is no question in my mind that there will be some failures, but I can learn from those.

The book itself, Ten Days, took unexpected turns as I was writing.  A minor character became a major character.  I saw the need to include more supporting information into manuscript; there were facts I knew about the storyline as the author, that weren’t entirely clear to the reader.  Finally, writing the book pulled things out of me on a level that were very profound.

In Ten Days, the characters themselves have twists and turns impacting their lives that they never saw coming.  They are each, in different ways, called to a “greater good” than they really foresee at the beginning of the book.  I speak more about all of these things in future blogs.

How about you?  Are there whispers of another interest, another life, faintly working their way into your thoughts?  Explore - be willing to fail.  Don’t let fear hold you back.  There are more lessons coming from the garden.  

Let Me Introduce Sam

Have I started to spark some interest in my book Ten Days? I thought for this blog, I’d provide a sample:

Sam carefully slid out from underneath the rubble and righted herself to a crouching position. Stealthily, she then moved into the shadows of the landscape. Her progress was painstakingly slow. She knew she not only had to stay out of the line of sight of any patrols, but had to be cautious of her footing. Stepping on a branch or tripping over something might draw unwelcome attention.

Sam reached Steward Street. She knew she needed to find shelter somewhere. Staying in or around the Square, which seemed to be a hub of Enemy activity, just wasn’t safe. The street was pockmarked with craters from the explosion of various military ordnance used by both the defenders and the invaders. She decided to cross the street, hoping to find somewhere to hide until she could decide what to do next. Large and small chunks of concrete littered the road. Sam felt exposed as she worked her way around the potholes and concrete.

          As she progressed to the other side of the street, she couldn’t help but think how things had changed in twenty-four hours. Last night, the Square had been a center of culture and beauty. Tonight, the same area was ugly, in ruins, and a place of indescribable terror. Where there had been gentleness, there was now brutality. Music had given way to screams and torture.

          Finally, Sam made it across Steward Street, to the south side of the Annex. She was grateful that the floodlights on the Annex and the streetlights weren’t working. They would have made her an excellent target as she made her crossing. The darkness provided her with additional cover.

          It appeared that the Annex was undamaged, but blown-up military equipment and other rubble offered an effective screen between her and the Enemy on the Square. A truck of some sort lay on its side, a black, hulking, twisted mass. Scattered around the truck was debris from the looting: tossed papers from file cabinets, broken furniture, and dead bodies.

          The bonfires from the Square provided uneven light as Sam carefully picked her way through the mess; her goal was to make it to the east entrance of the Annex. It was while working her way through the bodies that she felt something grab at her ankle. It was a human hand, weakly tugging at her. She had to suppress a scream.

          Sam had to quickly decide to either move rapidly from the spot or investigate. She had no way of knowing if the hand belonged to a civilian, a defending soldier, or the Enemy. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she chose to investigate. Bending down in the dim, flickering light, she saw a young soldier lying on his back, eyes fixed on her, blood matting his hair and covering his uniform.

          In a weak voice, he pleaded, “Don’t…don’t let…them…take me…alive.” His breathing was labored. What was Sam to do? She couldn’t see herself leaving him, but also couldn’t possibly grant him his wish.

          At the point of exhaustion and in pain herself, she lowered herself to sit next to him, gently couching his head and shoulders in her lap. He wheezed, breath now coming in short, uneven gasps. Sam was certain he could only have but a few minutes more, at best.

          “Thank…you,” was all he could manage to say.

          “What’s your name, soldier?”

          “Pri…pri…private…Nic…Nic Longacre. Tell…my…parents…I...wasn’t captured…” He let out a gasp and was gone.

          There was no time to mourn the young patriot, or even process what had happened. Sam would have to deal with it later. She eased his head to the ground, wiped dirt from his face and tears from her eyes. Getting up, she continued her movement along the south wall of the Annex.

          She was almost to the intersection when she heard the sounds of at least two sets of hobnailed boots hitting the pavement. The sound of the boots had almost been muffled by the noise coming from the Square, but apparently her senses were heightened by the stark fear she was experiencing.

          Quickly she ducked behind some rubble, hoping her pounding heart and labored breathing wouldn’t give her away. Two Enemy soldiers dressed in their black combat uniforms stopped at the corner. They had some sort of rifles slung over their backs. One offered the other a cigarette and they both lit up. After a brief conversation Sam couldn’t hear clearly, they turned left on Steward Street, away from her hiding place.

          After waiting a couple of minutes to make sure the men would not double back, Sam moved to the street corner. She scanned the side street for Enemy troops and saw some of them pillaging a house a couple of blocks away. The noise from the Square and the ranting of these men as they fought over some spoils covered her footfalls as she ran to the side entrance. The entire time, she kept saying to herself, “Please be unlocked, please be unlocked, please be unlocked.”

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