Plant Whatever Brings You Joy

Recently I was very delighted to receive email from Becky, a second cousin of mine in Utah, suggesting I might be interested in a little book called Seedfolks by Paul Fleischman. She said the book was a charming story of a group of varied urban people coming together for the purpose of creating a community garden. She thought that might appeal to me, and, as I discovered, she was quite right.

Seedfolks, in a surprisingly streetsmart vernacular, tells the tale of the unfolding and spontaneous creation of a community garden in Cleveland, Ohio. The story is told through the voices of each of the participants, so one is treated to the particular lens through which each person views the experience, and deftly the stories begin to overlap and weave together as any actual garden might do. The tiny Vietnamese girl who plants the first seeds in the garden, a secret and solitary act, she thinks, is viewed by an elderly neighbor, an Eastern European woman, from an upstairs window. Gradually other neighbors discover the garden activity and lend their own voices and points of entry. Ultimately each finds his or her inspiration, connection and place in the garden, as gardeners everywhere understand, until something bigger and better than any one of them might have created on his or her own unfolds. More importantly, bridges are built between cultures, transcending prejudices, fears and misinformation to create a better understanding, and ultimately, a stronger community in which to live. It appears this would be a very timely book, indeed, as we witness leadership setting the tone for that very important step in our history: to rise above difference and embrace our common interests. Timely indeed.

I found it very interesting that simultaneous to reading Seedfolks I heard from a friend of a community garden that existed in Mendocino. The plot thickened when I discovered after a couple of phone calls that a piece of property I had recently found myself drawn to was, in fact, the garden itself. It is located behind a Native American museum/art gallery I sometimes visit. In spite of the numerous times I’d been there, one particular afternoon I suddenly noticed a fence at the back and rather than going into the museum, I walked toward the back and found myself peering through a rather tattered fence, where children had clearly torn back the wire in order to have access to what they must have considered a shortcut to wherever they wanted to be going. Rather captivated, I stared into what looked like the remnants of a very large garden. Strange, I thought. What had they been growing? And who? It had obviously been the subject of much work, but now lay in apparent disrepair and neglect.

Well, that’s about to change. In part I was viewing a Garden in Winter, so no wonder its state. But also, as with many community projects, let’s just say it’s had its history. It is now firmly under the umbrella of a non-profit organization called Cloud Forest Institute which is able to offer it the insurance it needs to continue, and enough guidance to have secured the promise of an experienced, committed Hispanic-American man who has worked the garden previously, who knows most of the participants and will see to it that it moves along smoothly.

Upon learning that the garden I had been peering at through the fence was the place I was now seeking I was happy to have the reason to now further explore. I went to a house nearby the garden as I was instructed and met a lovely young Hispanic-American woman named Fabiola who immediately walked me over to the gardens with her precious little daughter, Pearl, as she told me what she knew of its history and what current plans were. Here is what greeted us as we entered the large property. (Wouldn’t you know it?)

As above, so below.

Apparently Fabiola’s parents have been very involved in the gardens, and Fabiola walked me back to her parents’ large plot where two very tall thick stately rose bushes, one red and one pink, had been planted and stood watch over their onions, garlic, leeks and strawberries. The ground has been prepared for many more things to come. I was particularly moved that the mother had also planted a long row of cactuses, reminiscent of her native Nayarit, along one end of her garden, acting as a reminder, no doubt, of her own early years in a garden in Mexico, but also serving as a deterent from those who might want to enter her plot. Here was one such garden sentry:

I’d be thinking twice before entering, wouldn’t you?

The other twenty-two plots lay in various states of being. Some were full of foxtail (eeeooouu), plantain, lots of mature onions, a thicket of California poppies, a long raised bed of strawberries, and two very long board-sided boxes from a former participant, now moved away, leaving behind her many many irises, left to chance and their own destinies.

But it is spring. I’m anxious to see how this project looks midsummer. I will surely return and admire the hard work and determination of this little community’s efforts to create what is happening in towns all over the country, as we turn our attention to growing food. The return of the Victory Garden, some are calling it, coupled with an energy conscious public looking for practical solutions to the rising costs of carting foods half way ’round the planet, all so unnecessarily. Eating locally, again and at last.

The most promising sight for me in the community garden at Cleveland Lane was this…

…a perfectly executed “empty” plot beckoning a vision and dream of the plot’s owner. I can’t wait to see what he creates in that verdant space. Can you?

Love and garden blessings,
Kathryn

Posted on May 7th, 2008 by Kathryn
Filed under: Book Notes | 18 Comments »

“Full moon in Scorpio!” my darling daughter advises me Saturday afternoon. “Can you feel it?” Uh, not really. Maybe tonight? “3:25AM.” Okey dokey.

Sure enough, 3:25AM I find myself wide awake. The doggies stir and I decide to let them out to pee. Why not? Immediately the moon sears through the back yard onto my face. Yep. I’m feelin’ it now. OK, back to sleep, doggies, back to sleep. We tumble back into the warm bed.

Somewhere in this general timeframe, under the lunar influence, no doubt, (the ever-talented) David Perry posts about his illustrious encounter with not one, but three rats. If you haven’t read about that, do. Not to be missed. Not at all. Shortcut: he kills three siblings in a single whack and leaves them on the fence lined up as dinner for the local crows. Mmm-huh. Would I kid you? And what do I leave as a comment? “I would have expected turkey vultures.”

OK, I’m getting the picture. Intense energies. Death. Rats. What’s next?

Like clockwork, next morning I see a cop car out front, slowing down. Now what? I open the front door for a wider view and smile. Small town charm. He’s slowed down for a dead animal on the street. “Cat?” I call. “Nope. Possum.” Strangely, I’ve never actually seen a possum even though I’ve known for decades they were around in all the neighborhoods I’ve ever lived in the Bay Area. I go out and pay my respects. Interesting critter. Kinda cute in a toothy sort of way.

Within the hour I look out and there is a turkey vulture also paying his respects. Sort of. I fleetingly think back to my recent comment on David’s post but shrug it off and go about the day’s business and I don’t think much about this again until I happen to glance out the window late in the afternoon and there is a second turkey vulture, landed on the fence across the street with his wings fully outstretched. A twenty-five pound bird with a full four and a half feet wide wingspan? Now they have my attention. I am in total awe and run for my camera. By the time I’m at the door this one is gone and I’m left as my focus the one on the street delving into the possum dinner. I step outside and begin snapping, taking baby steps closer, knowing the inevitable will occur, and, of course, within steps the vulture flies up into a large cedar and observes me safely from above. Fine. I’m standing here until you come back down. The standoff goes on for a goodly five minutes, until he resigns himself that I’m not leaving. He unexpectedly soars down the block and then back again over my head. OK, I can go with this. Snap. Snap. Two seconds later I notice a second vulture joining this activity and can you imagine my surprise when a third suddenly shows up, seemingly out of nowhere and I am now the triangular focus of three huge vultures swooping overhead in wide block-long circles, each flying closely and deliberately over my head as part of their path. I am elated. Clearly they have engaged me in this activity and for several long group of seconds I am no longer Earth bound, but part of a vulture dance, only sky-focused as they repeatedly, blessedly fly into my camera’s range. I am keenly aware of their surfing air currents in the process, and I have to think they are having fun! Who knew?

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, –and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of –Wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air…
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark or even eagle flew –
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

John Gillespie Magee, Jr.

One. Two. Three. And then they are gone, as suddenly as they appeared.

Wow.

I am laughing out loud, overjoyed to have participated in these unusual moments.

Within seconds one returns, most likely the one that started it all, and he resumes his interest in the possum. And I am left to ponder the turkey vulture and my brief wonderful exchange and to contemplate his place on the planet Earth, which I have now been doing for two days. For, indeed, the turkey vulture has made a survival art out of recognizing what has lost its usefulness on the planet, and he proceeds to clean it up. He rolls up his proverbial sleeves and sets to work upon what we would find the daunting work of the unthinkable. Yes, he impassively confronts what we would find most distasteful, not fun at all, and makes it his business to make short work of it, and be nourished in the process. What a metaphor for the Greening of the planet. If we were to take it upon ourselves as the turkey vulture to set about facing the uncomfortable mess we find ourselves in and make it our business to not only set to the task of cleaning it up, but also to be nourished in the process, what might we accomplish?

Love and Earth Day blessings,
Kathryn

Little note: I promised Ewa in the Garden to join her in an Earth Day post, after she posted this fascinating photo from South Korea from folks there trying to help this beautiful planet we all share.

Posted on April 22nd, 2008 by Kathryn
Filed under: Planet Earth | 18 Comments »

While I had over the years experimented with various herbs in my garden it took having dinner with Bill Greaves, book artist extraordinaire, and his wonderful wife, Amy, in Cave Creek, Arizona to change my views on growing herbs by stepping up my knowledge and commitment to doing it right. Amy took growing herbs very seriously. In fact, when they first moved to the desert from Hawaii, it was the very first garden project she undertook–get in her herbs. Shortly after I arrived she took me out onto an outer patio that ran across the back of their lovely desert home, and sure enough, she had pots and pots of herbs–all handy to the kitchen. I think this proximity to the house was one of the things that really impressed me. As if the visual were not enough to bring this point home, Amy served these potatoes with dinner, which, if you are handy in the kitchen perhaps you’ve tried, but just in case, I offer her very simple recipe here, as they are now a favorite and delicious.

Rosemary Potatoes

Ingredients:
As many potatoes as you want to eat
Fresh rosemary
Course salt
Extra virgin olive oil

What you do:

Peel the potatoes and cut them as if you were making big french fries.
Place the potatoes in a large pyrex baking dish.
Pour olive oil over them.
Chop the leaves of a couple of fresh cut sprigs of rosemary. Sprinkle over potatoes.
Sprinkle all with a bit of course salt, to taste.
Toss lightly with a spatula or large metal spoon.
Bake at 350 degrees for an hour, peeking in and rearranging the potatoes once or twice within that hour to assure even browning.
Remove and enjoy! You will now make these a hundred times and people will love you for it.

Note Amy made us this same recipe during Thanksgiving, using parsnips and those were scrumptious.

So when I moved back up to Mendocino, I straightaway put in a rosemary, which is now very large. But it took finding a very large clay pot at Home Depot to really establish my herb garden and I highly recommend this idea–put the majority of your herbs in one big pot, as near as possible to your kitchen.

Here is mine.

Don’t you just love it? I do! It’s one of my very favorite things. Mind you, it is only two or three steps from the back patio, in the frontmost corner of my vegetable garden. So, very handy, and this makes all the difference, I do believe.

Starting at midnight, and moving clockwise, if you look closely you will find a new addition, which is sage. You have to look closely, or you will think the little sage is part of that next largest group, the Greek oregano. The oregano is now getting so big it’s creeping out onto the other side of the next herb, the curled parsley. Both survived winter perfectly fine, freezing temps at all, to my great surprise and delight. Maybe that would not be true where you live. We had only one brief snowfall.

Between 9:00 o’clock and 10:00 you will see my reliable thyme, now two years old. And the little yellow/green one is lemon thyme, which my dearest friend Conny just gifted to me as part of a larger assorted birthday pot, from which I transplanted it in with these guys, and then we are back to the teeny new sage. I’ve given the sage and lemon thyme room to fill out, as you can see.

Last year I had cilantro in here, but it did not get employed quite as much, so I’ve eliminated. Also I tried a Thai plant which so eluded me I can’t even remember what it was for. So there’s some experimentation going on here, but these are probably the staples now, as I will use each and every one. I cannot begin to tell you how much I appreciate that these herbs, which tend to be smaller and more vulnerable to, say, wild doggies herding balls, are now up off the ground and protected and together. There is something just right about their being together. Maybe it’s an extension of a Place for Everything and Everything in Its Place. But I think it goes beyond that. I’m just going to say it feels Right, and I do recommend it. The pot itself was a bit pricey, and it’s quite heavy, but it truly is one of my most treasured things right now, a kind of institution in and of itself, and I’m so glad I made the investment.

Now, to underscore the protection of this lovely group of herbs, which grace my cooking immeasureably, and upon which I so rely, I have added something new this year, done especially for a certain Mr. Conner B.C. This new addition I believe spells out in very explicit terms: No Balls in My Herb Pot, a phrase he heard, oh, about a hundred times, as it is always his habit to put a ball, upon which he has been chewing incessantly, into whatever container is most convenient, as I garden, in hopes I will pick it up and throw it. No savory among the savories. You know? So here’s what he now encounters. I think it does the job, don’t you?

In case you are curious, that is my arugula in the background, gone to seed for the second time this spring already, and due for a major cropping, any day now. I’m finding it so difficult as those white blossoms in the moonlight are as unexpectedly a magical place as you would want to be.

Love and spring blessings,
Kathryn xoxo

Posted on April 9th, 2008 by Kathryn
Filed under: Plants | 20 Comments »

I will never forget the moment I heard Oprah say to a guest who was speaking about gardening, “I don’t understand what kind of exercise you can get by gardening. What is there to do?” HAHAHA. What??? I wanted to write to her immediately and say, “Oprah, spend a day with me in my garden and I will show you a workout!” Oddly, it’s not thought about in those terms. As physically demanding as gardening can be and usually is, the general focus on gardening is on what we are planting, when and how, not on the bodies who are performing those what/when/how activities. In reality, you know and I know that gardening is a challenging athletic endeavor with great rewards for our bodies. But also some perils and pitfalls if we stop listening. And this last post I did, reviewing some basic yoga poses that would assist the gardener in her practice, brought in some comments and email that made me realize how much we all have in common when it comes to gardening: We Aren’t There. We are lost in the zone, that seductive, all-encompassing passionate drive of creative vision and doing. What we seem to have in common is an experience of being completely absorbed in manifesting our various visions of beauty and creativity. We simply expect our bodies to be natural extensions of that vision, which seems to have no edges, or limits or sense of time. We override stretching and resting. We barely take time to pee. You know it’s true. Because we are lost, hopelessly, in the beauty of flow and design and manifestation in nature. There is no other place we want to be. Nothing else we want to be doing. Nothing else we want to hear or see or touch or smell. We are enraptured with the Universe, with the Greenest of Goddesses. With Pan himself. I know you know what I’m talking about.

Courtesy of artist Marsha Mello

The focus that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.

Dylan Thomas

Then the next day we get up and we are perhaps a bit creeky. Or stiff or sore. Or we ache. Especially at this time of year, I find. And we think the magical formula is to do it all over again.

A few years ago, strangely just as Grandma was nudging herself towards the edge of the Earth, I was unexpectedly offered an opportunity to be a contributing writer for a book being published in London called The Financial Times Guide to Business Travel. What it turned out that I could best contribute was practical advice on staying healthy on the road, drawing on my multiple decades in Northern California, a rather progressive island of health conscious folks completely comfortable with all manner of alternative healing modalities. Today I’d like to tap into that wealth of knowledge and share a bit with you, for you to consider incorporating into your daily practices to enhance your gardening experiences even more, by taking care of the very vehicle that allows you that blessed luxury.

We’ve rather covered yoga, if you refer to the previous post. Since writing that, I have chosen the spot where I’m going to have my Handy Man build me a little wooden deck where I can practice yoga daily out of doors. I realize it’s more precious that way. I’ve elected a place I have been fond of as it catches the earliest morning sun’s rays, just adjacent to the rose arbor, not yet in bloom, but here’s what the arbor looked like last summer:

Can you imagine what it will be like once I’m lying there doing my final relaxation pose, looking up at the big blue California sky through those large red roses spilling across that old arbor? Wow. So that’s my plan. Build a space.

I think I very much like the idea of stretching beforehand, yoga or not. We do it for running and walking, right? Why not gardening? It makes sense. And I personally want to try to build perhaps a five minute stretch break periodically into my gardening. Maybe I will take this funny little black and white hen I bought to time stuff in the oven, which I have used all of one time, out into the garden and just let her ring me to a stretch break. Why not? It has its charm.

Are you all pretty good about keeping bottles of water around when you are out in the yard? I have to admit, I still have to work on this. When I do rehydrate, if it’s hot I choose something like SmartWater, as it will give me back the electrolites I’m losing. I never drink Gatorade. I can’t believe they tell you it’s good for you. See the color? Think oil products. Here are the ingredients for Gatorade Raspberry Lemonade: water, sucrose syrup, glucose-fructose syrup, citric acid, natural and artificial flavors, salt, sodium citrate, monopotassium phosphate, ester gum, sucrose acetate isobutyrate, red 40, blue 1. Are you kidding me? Please.

Now, comfy clothes and shoes. I bet you all do that really well by now. Right? If you’ve read me for any length of time you know already that I frequently can be found totally comfy in the early mornings gardening either in private out back or in public out front in my pajama bottoms and a sweater and scarf. I do. And usually I have on appropriate footwear, like those rubber gardening shoes you will remember the name of and I don’t, because I have some wannabe version. Or boots. Not flipflops as they will not protect my feet from chill or bugs or the straying mean plant that can stick me. Gloves? I know; gloves are tough. Some-times I do; sometimes I don’t. I love my hands in the actual dirt. I absolutely do wear them for any place where I could get pricked (leather for roses and black-berries) or bitten (we have black widows).

I am religious about sunscreen. Are you? I hope so. I’m not as good at the hat, though I certainly have no excuse as I own them. I even put one on a hook in the hall that leads out back. Maybe this year I will grab it on the way out. Why do I think they get in the way?

I wonder if we could start a little picnic/snacky thing we could do for ourselves? Because you know once you are in the thick of the Green Zone you are not going to go in and make a sandwich, are you? I thought not. Yesterday I was examining those wonderful picnic baskets that have everything you need inside, but I know that’s hoping for too much. (I was thinking more Earthquake in looking at those anyway. I thought that when the Big One comes I could maybe be surviving with a touch of class. You have to admit it would be convenient.)

And what in the world are we going to do about the reaching beyond our bodies’ means? Like the woman in Portland who wrote to me last week and said she lifted too much compost. This is going to be just a task we each face on our own, that perhaps begins with, “Do I perhaps need some help?” Asking for help is a good thing. Learning to receive is a good thing. Yes, you, Superwoman.

OK, so the sun is setting, hubby is coming home for dinner, whatever. You have to go in and shift gears. You’ve gotten a lot done today, you realize, as you look around with satisfaction, making a mental note on what you will do tomorrow. (I know The List.)

I personally don’t know if I can get myself to then do some kind of cooldown afterward, but maybe you can. I know I am headed straight for a bath after getting dirty. I just am. And it’s going to have bath oil in the water, probably lavender to get me to relax. If I’ve been exposed to pollens I’m going to choose eucalyptus oil. And bath salts, even if it’s Epsom. Also, there is something to consider about baths vs. showers. When you bathe you immediately begin to rehydrate. And there is nothing like soaking. Just a thought. I know you have your preference etched in stone.

OK, bath toys. Fingernail brush. Found the best one at a little drug store, cheapo and one of my favorite bath accessories. Pumice stone for those drying feet. Loofah or body brush for the skin. And I just love good cotton washcloths. They do the trick. Dry off. Moisturize. Now here’s the thing I particularly wanted to tell you about. There is a homeopathic remedy called arnica gel. I know about it because when my daughter was still little I ran the language program for a Waldorf School and we always had it around for kids who bumped or bruised themselves. You can get it in the health food store. I’m telling you right here. I could not make it without arnica gel. It has saved my back a billion times. I just rub it into any muscles where I know I’ve unduly placed too much stress, right after the warm bath. I also look myself over and put it on any little bruise, which will accelerate the healing process. We all get bruised in the garden pushing things around. And in the morning I’m right as rain.

I don’t know about you, but I absolutely make it a priority to get enough sleep. I need minimum of eight hours. I consider it one of the cornerstones of my good health. In the evening, in preparation for that precious restoral, I lower all the lights in my house and turn off all but the most necessary ones and have a nice cup of chamomile tea. Ahhhh. Nice. Ready for the good night’s sleep and a blessed new day.

‘Till soon,
Kathryn xoxo

Posted on March 27th, 2008 by Kathryn
Filed under: People at Work | 22 Comments »

By now most gardeners are rather chomping at the bit to get some seeds in the ground and get things moving, right? However even reckless I am watching the mountains that lie out at the perimeter of this valley eyeing the snow with respect and making the decision to wait it out until the ground is a tad friendlier-warmer to embrace my plans. So what do we do meanwhile? I’m a woman with a home and I know some of the things you do. You clean. You mend. You bake. You sort out papers and the closet and piles that were neglected during summer and fall. And strangely, for some of us (more than you might think if the poll I took today is any indication) we look at that jar of coins and think perhaps it’s time to get them processed and start over. Am I right? Anyway, that’s how it is here. I have been throwing extra (read, weighty) silver coins in a crystal jar and all pennies in their own separate container. (It was pink. Yes, I say was.) Periodically, probably around now, I pull out those little paper sleeves they give you at the bank and count them up and take them to the bank. I started recently with the pennies, which were spilling out of their (pink) pot. As I was counting (and recounting) pennies I watched the aggravation mount in my mind and found myself thinking what an enormous waste of time it was to sort pennies and bind them in round paper rolls. SURELY there was something better to do with them. The time expended was not worth the value of what they were going to return.

And then a little light went on and I thought with a big smile:

Find a penny
Pick it up
All day you’ll have good luck.

Bingo. And so on the spot I decided that if I couldn’t seed my garden, I could seed the sidewalk out front. With pennies. But only the shiny ones, I decided. Otherwise, it wasn’t the same. And so ever since, over the last couple of weeks I have religiously been planting a penny at a time directly in front of my house on the sidewalk. Oh, I’m very sneaky. I really don’t want any neighbors to catch on to what I’m doing. It’s my secret. So I bend over to pick up a “weed” which has traversed the lawn, or, whatever. You get the drift. And I leave the shiny penny.
And then I simply go back inside. And during the day when I feel like a nice stretch I go out front and see if it has disappeared. And usually it has. And then I leave another! How fun is that??

So largely I had decided I did not want to see who was finding those pennies. It was more fun to just imagine. And my intention, simply, was based in the realization that the value of the penny, IMHO, was more to be found these days in the old addage which we apparently all grew up with, than in any true monetary value. I mean, come on.

The Universe did give me a glimpse, however, into how this little secret might be panning out. I happened to legitimately be out in the lawn pulling up an offending little weed when two rather middle aged women who were out for a walk suddenly came to an abrupt halt as one eyed the penny. She snatched it up in a single sweep and held on to it like a victory, displaying it to her friend. You can imagine the smile that stretched across my face, as I deliberately turned away, when her friend pronounced animatedly, “And it’s a nice shiny one, too!” Oh, joy!

Satisfied that my secret foray into penny seeding indeed had merit, I decided to write about it and post it here. I needed a photo of a penny on the sidewalk. I went out and placed one squarely in the sun. Click. Refocus. Click. Refocus. Click. Refocus? What the hey? This is not working. Why not? Maybe it’s too flat. Maybe my camera (set on auto-focus, mind you) can’t DO flat. I look up. Two young Hispanic boys are approaching me. Ah-ha. Boys? I need you.
OK, here’s what you do. See this penny? YOU, I point at one, pretend to be walking along, spy the penny and pick it up and show your friend. Easy, right? Kids always think I’m slightly nuts but in a good way. They go along. Click. Refocus. Etc. Ad nauseum.

OK, reluctantly I accept that after all these years and all these photos my Pentax has a boo-boo. I take it to a camera store, straightaway. They say they will send it in for repair until they ask a critical deathly question. “How old is that camera anyway? Ten years?” Uh, more like 18. Uh-oh. I can see on their faces this was the Wrong Answer. They pronounce it dead and obsolete. (How could THAT BE? Did they see my photos on my post last week? Come ON.)

I turn this over in my mind and I decide to “Ride the Horse in the Direction He’s Going” as Werner Erhard used to say, and I ask immediately about a digital, rationalizing with amazingly rapid speed that maybe the Universe is sending me the message to Go Digital. As in finally. Hasn’t it been just a week since a visitor to my blog asked me what kind of camera I use and I confess it’s a 35mm? Did I tempt fate?

In ten minutes time I’ve decided I want the new Pentax digital. It just feels right, it looks right, and, besides, my birthday is right around the corner (always the driving post in any expenditure decision in my book–did you read about my diamonds???)

I come home. I hit google. I find three offers. I email David Perry WHILE I’m on hold at Abes of Maine. (Please be home. Please be home.) And as I’m placing the order David kindly emails me that, no he has not done business with Abes, but his father has and that’s all I needed to seal the deal. (Thank you, Mr. Perry.)

So it’s on its way. And then I wake up at 4:00AM and I find myself asking myself, “What if it’s not dead? What if it’s the auto-focus? What if it’s not the Universe necessarily wanting me to Go Digital? What if it’s the Universe telling me to stop using auto-focus and (gasp) learn to use a camera???”

At dawn I dig out the manual, which, mind you, I have basically not read in 18 years. It’s true. And I find the page on auto-focus and I turn it off. (Hello? It’s a little button on the front. As in On/Off.) And I grin as I put FILM in my Pentax. And I aim. And I shoot. And it takes.

I am now meditating, being a metaphorical kind of girl, on what “being on auto-focus” means to the Universe. If you have any particular insights, do tell.

Love and blessings,
Kathryn

Oh, yes, Happy Birthday to Me. Official Birthday Girl photo herewith:

My cake said, “Happy Birthday Beautiful Me.” I kid you not. Here it is!

And here I am. Do I look HAPPY??? I am!

Posted on March 15th, 2008 by Kathryn
Filed under: People at Play | 26 Comments »