Listen, Follow and Enjoy

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It had been a week since I’d visited my favorite place, Bok Tower Gardens. Puttering in my own garden wasn’t enough. I needed to walk in nature too. On the way to the grocery, I took a side trip to the public garden, handed over my membership card at the front gate and parked beneath the shade of a live oak. The early morning was heavy with humidity from the much needed rain the previous day. I brought along my butterfly book, water and iPhone

As I walked under the arch with the quote, “Make you the world a bit better or more beautiful because you have lived in it,” I pondered my own life. This quote had been a part of the gardens since it opened in 1928. As a child, I read it in various locations every time my family and I visited. Perhaps it influenced my lifelong love of gardening, especially flowers. Or maybe I’m drawn to this place because I have the same philosophy. I just knew I was happy to be in the midst of the beauty this garden offered. I continued along the walkway outside the visitor center, paused to enjoy the blossoms picked and identified by volunteers. My head bent, I inhaled the heady aroma of the gardenias, one of my favorite flowers. That day I felt I needed to forgo formal gardens and walk among the native plants.

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Southern Magnolia

Gulf Fritillary

Gulf Fritillary

Just past the Pollinator Garden, I entered the large oval, my first intersection. I checked my inner voice for direction. It led me left, toward the Southern Magnolia. Fragrance once again pulled me forward. Ahead I saw Gulf Fritllary butterflies as they flitted about above the native purple passion flower vine, aka maypop, Passiflora incarnata. I looked under the leaves with holes eaten hoping to find a caterpillar, bright orange with black spines, without success. The adults, however, gifted me with  opportunities to photograph them.

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On the edge of the Wild Garden I heard the “Chee-wink” call of an Eastern Towhee. As I searched nearby trees I found the less colorful female perched on the limb of a sumac, the male furiously vying for her attention. My wanderings led me into the nearby bog where carnivorous pitcher plants fed on hapless flies and ants. A native milkweed bloomed among the native grasses, the leaves a larval food for the Monarch Butterfly.progeny.

Native Milkweed

Native Milkweed

Pine Ridge Trail

Pine Ridge Trail

SaveFinishing out my hour in nature, I walked the gravel section of the Pine Ridge Nature Trail, returned to the formal gardens via the Edible Garden.

My spirit renewed and a little damp with perspiration, I paused to drink water from my day pack, and turned back toward my car.

Parked under a strip mall parking lot tree, the prospect of my errands seemed lighter and my smile brighter as I gathered my reusable bags, and entered the local Publix grocery, where “shopping is always a pleasure”, especially after a visit to the garden.

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How to Keep it Light

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Are you wondering what subjects are acceptable in polite conversation? It seems there are so many pathways leading us into a swamp of quicksand. Here is a broad subject you can safely navigate. Ask about their worst times. Offer up some specifics; the worst meal they created or ate, the worst grade they received in school, the worst motel they stayed in, the worst movie they saw. Chances are time has turned these experiences into humorous events.

I remember my worst sewing mistake. My father was 5’ 11” with a wiry build. His arms belonged on a linebacker, requiring a 36” sleeve. It had become increasingly difficult to find his preferred Western style shirts in a Medium size with a 36” sleeve. I had successfully sewn many tailored shirts, even for my dad. For Christmas 2008, I purchased a bright red denim and found the well-worn pattern in my sewing box. I laid out the pieces, measuring the sleeve length of 36”. I sewed the top-stitching perfectly, aligned the Mother of Pearl snaps with care, added the stitching on the pocket for his ever-present pencil with the clip, and cut the shirttail long, just as he liked.

As I carefully wrapped my gift, I imagined his face brightening into a broad smile as he lifted the lid and unfolded the tissue paper, knowing he would have a shirt that ended at his wrist instead of pulling four inches up his forearm. As he lifted my gift up from the package, I thought the sleeves looked odd. Dad hurriedly removed his 32” sleeved shirt and tried on my gift. We all laughed long and hard. The end of the sleeves reached 2 inches below the tips of his fingers!

crazy sleevesWhat had happened? After some discussion with my mother, I realized I had forgotten men’s sleeves measured from the nape of the neck, not from the shoulder. I promised I would take it home and fix it, but try as I might, it was impossible. He never got another handmade shirt from me, but we still have the precious memory and the photo. I imagine he is laughing even now on the other side as he looks over my shoulder.

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Living in the Moment

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Yesterday I accompanied a friend, Susan Swern, on her eight hour round trip to Aspen. Her goal in town was to speak to an art dealer and an autograph expert. We both love road trips, so it was perfect. She is also my eating coach with Eating IQ. At various times during the drive, she asked me to join her in an exercise in “Living in the Moment”.

“For 5 minutes, observe the scenery. Just notice.” she said.

I thought, that will be easy. Boy was I wrong! Everything reminded me of my husband who had passed 18 months earlier. Tears streamed down my cheeks. We talked about how my thoughts were intruding, bringing in sadness.

She said, “You control your thoughts. Let’s try again.”

The second time was easier. I saw the fences in the snow and noticed the posts were thick, then thin, then thick. My thoughts invaded again. “I remember learning to draw perspective with fences and telephone poles when I was practicing drawing as a girl.” Oops! Those thoughts are persistent! But it also reminded me how I would always be in the moment when I was drawing or painting. Hours would pass without notice. Only the act of drawing was reality.

The third time was the charm. We were in Glenwood Canyon, the Colorado River slowly flowing west, dark against the snowy shore. Red rocks formed the canyon walls with tall dark spruce clinging to cracks with a backdrop of bright white snow. I achieved the joy of Living in the Moment by simply observing what is.. now. Ahhhh.