A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort. ~Herm Albright

I have a friend who makes a habit of finding the "beauty-full" things in her life.  She isn't a tranquil soul sitting isolated on a rock while contemplating the sound of one hand clapping.  She is a single mother, much put upon middle manager, and the type who plays Russian Roulette with her finances.  Her car breaks down, car keys get lost, and someone always puts the empty milk jug back in the fridge.  She has the same frustrations we all do....difference is she doesn't let them pile up on her.

She takes the problems as they come but doesn't allow them to take up residence.  When the car sputters and stops working, she doesn't tear out her hair and burst into tears.  Instead she welcomes the kind stranger who stops along the side of the road to offer assistance.  She welcomes the trip to the miracle working mechanic who puts things right in the machine and allows her to pay out the cost.  She reveals in the love and concern given by her offspring who come to her aide.

Man, is that annoying.

Oh, don't get me wrong.  She is no saint.  She can be self-indulgent, self-critical, and selfish when it comes to chocolate ice cream.  She can cuss like a sailor and likes to tell dirty jokes just to see you blush.  Occasionally important things get put on a back burner until she has to no other choice but to deal with them.  She can throw up so many romantic roadblocks that only the truly valiant can surmount them...and even then there is a fire breathing dragon to contend with because she has been hurt before.

But even with those foibles, she is an optimist.  She looks for something good even as she prepares herself for the bad.  In a sea of overwhelming demands and problems, she finds an island of hope.  I admire that.  She knows that no matter what path she has to walk down, no matter how dark or rocky it may be, there is a destination.  And she finds joy as she walks it, despite the stones in her shoes or the blisters on her feet.

I think I shall try to annoy some people today too.

The greatest gift of the garden is the restoration of the five senses. ~Hanna Rion

March 21st was the first day of Spring, the Vernal Equinox, and what a wonderful day it was.   I'm an optimistic gardener to my core, even if I see my plants wilt under the harsh summer sun.  That is why I try to plant something every year.

This year I've started out simple.  Just a couple of tomatoes and peppers with a side of basil.  There's still a good amount of potting soil left, so more planting is definitely in my future  But for now, on my humble apartment porch, it is a start.  But it calls to mind a garden from several years ago.

I used to work for a garden center. I came home tired, hot, sweaty, and smelly... but happy. I enjoyed walking up and down the rows of annuals, perennials, and shrubberies as I watered all of the stock. I delighted in reading the numerous gardening books, covers fading from the sun and pages curling from moisture, that were offered for for sale but never seemed to get sold. I especially loved imparting that information to anyone who asked for my gardening advice.

One of the perks of my old job, was taking home dry and damaged bags of soil for a pittance. This was especially welcomed since my husband and I had just purchased our first home and to call it a fixer-upper was being kind. The back yard was small and dominated by a huge pecan tree and a sad little peach tree. Most of the space was covered with a concrete driveway. What little dirt there was, was hard packed and littered with long forgotten nails, glass ...and pennies for some strange reason.

Being young and full of energy, my husband and I spent most of our time either fixing the house or working in the yard.  I sprinkled soil and grass seed over the small back yard until the grey dirt turned into a lush green carpet.  I dug beds in the front and back yards, no easy task since the soil was thick and black with clay.  In these beds I planted the scraggly plants I had saved from the dumpster.  Some were so sickly looking, I even questioned if I was planting or burying them.  My husband called this "Darwinian Gardening" since only the strong and best suited for our environment would survive.  Not all did.

But those that did not only lived, they thrived.  Soon, what was once a desolate waste land that even weeds found hard to survive in became an oasis in a hectic city.  Along the front fence and arbor (built from recycled wood...see earlier post) grew Morning Glories greeting the morning with purples and blues and and Nasturtiums seeing the sunset with a blaze of yellow and orange.  Amazingly, corn grew and produced a few small ears, potatoes defied pill bugs and tough soil to increase their numbers, and even a few tomatoes managed to grow to maturity.   The noise of the city faded as the growing vegetation seemed to muffle the sounds of car horns and alarms.  I even found myself altered by the creation going on around me. I found more and more calmness in my garden.  We harvested and dried so much fragrant Basil and Lemon Balm that memories of the summer were remembered in my cooking all winter long.   

I loved that garden; I loved the sweat, the dirt, the disappointments and the sore muscles. I continue to plant despite not owning a patch of ground on which to plant. I still find calmness in the dirt under my nails. I breath deeply the scent of lavender and basil. The sight of tiny flowers and fruits growing day after day fills my heart with joy. I look forward to tasting the fruits of my labor (quite literally).  Noises still seem to fade when I sit amongst my plants. My senses and my soul are restored with each new leaf.

For my friend who asked about planting tomatoes, and anyone else interested too.....
http://www.ehow.com/how_4546092_when-plant-tomatoes.html

“An optimist stays up until midnight to see the new year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves.” Bill Vaughn

In my youth, I stayed up to ring in the new year in every time zone.  I raised my glass of sparkling grape juice and blew my horn along with all the drunken fools on television.  When I was a little older, I continued the tradition with the younger children I watched, so their parents could join the revelry themselves.  Those were some of the best New Year's I think I had. 

The birth of a new year is steeped in tradition and superstition.  The Romans' held the month of January as sacred to Janus, for whom the month January was named. Janus was portrayed with two faces, one facing forward to the future and one looking back on the past.  He was a door keeper between the past and future.  Today we take this time to remember those events of the past year and ponder on them.  We rejoice in our accomplishments and mourn our losses.  It is a time of taking stock of our lives and preparing for the coming rebirth in Spring.

The tradition of Old Father Time with his sickle and hour glass passing on the torch to the youthful Baby New Year also has Ancient Rome to thank for it's association with our present day tradition.  The old and haggard Father Time is in fact Cronus, the father of Zeus.  Cronus is often depicted with a sickle since it is the weapon he used to dethrone his own father, Uranus (Father Sky and the base of the word universe).    Zeus, the youngest child of Cronus and Rhea, defeated his father after a long and bloody battle.  Since gods can not be destroyed, he banished him thus repeating the cycle of the youth defeating the aged.

And so it goes on today.  Birth... life...decline...death.  Youth overcomes and surpasses age.   The future leaps through the present on it's way into the past.  The cycle goes on.

In these first few days of the new year, I have two wishes for you.  May you look forward with joy and hope and backwards with understanding.  I also hope that when it comes time for our spirited youth to seize their day, we will witness a calmer transition than those of the old gods. That is to say, free from fighting, intrigue and banishment.

Happy New Year