Cotton Head

It began in my forties. Now, where did I put...?

After nearly obsessing, okay obsessing, about the item, I usually find what I am looking for – eventually. Then, there are the times I head upstairs for a particular reason, and only upon coming back downstairs find I had gotten side-tracked and done something else, or three something else’s instead. Oh, and I mustn’t forget, pun intended, about the times I go barreling out to the garage while making a meal, where I store canned goods and have an overflow refrigerator, only to stop dead in my tracks and can’t think of what I was going to get. Even after a detailed racking of my brain about exactly what I was doing, picturing what I was doing, and looking through the cupboards, many times I can’t remember what it was I wanted until I get back into the kitchen. And, I am not alone in this!

If you are unaware of the term cotton head, it refers to fuzzy thinking or short-term memory loss associated with women as they approach menopause, and can carry on through menopause. It’s thought to be related to estrogen levels, or lack thereof. It is considered temporary. Ha! I know a number of women who are post-menopausal (50’s-80’s) and it is a regular topic of conversation for everyone. And no, it’s not like it’s a new topic every time someone brings it up. We aren’t that far gone.

I was a little more than annoyed by all of this in the beginning, then realized I had better success remembering when I didn’t obsess about it. I remember, yes, it does happen from time to time, thinking of it in a funny way when the memory lapses first occurred. I would smile and think to myself, oh well, it will come to me at some point. I did this for some time with no improvement. I thought perhaps I was letting my brain get lazy, so I tried memory games, and the like. These seemed to help speed the process along, and I would remember what it was I had forgotten seemingly faster. What I most often do now is force myself right there and then to remember. No obsessing and going on about it. I just simply relax and focus. I swear I can even hear my brain snap to attention. It’s been affective but is not foolproof.

Is all this cotton head, loss of control business something to worry about? I am sure there are those who feel like they are losing their minds and worry about Alzheimer’s. But what I understand is this: If you misplace your keys, let’s say three times a day or more - no worries! Seriously, no worries! If you don’t know what the keys are for – that, my friend, is different.

So cotton heads of the world – don't worry about it. You’ll think of it – eventually. Just smile and know you are not alone standing in the garage wondering what the heck you are doing there. If it helps, picture all sorts of people standing right there with you having a great, big laugh.

Cotton candy head courtesy of Thomas Galvez

Plucking Weeds

A weed is a plant, or thought, habit, person...growing where it is not wanted. Some weeds may be easily plucked out and never seen again; others sprout even more weeds where there had been only one. What to do? As a Master Gardener, I was taught to identify the weed, and then determine the best strategy to eradicate it. Why is this important?

• Weeds can be competitive – as in more successful, sometimes to the detriment of everything else in their wake.
• Weeds can be pernicious – as in having a harmful effect to the health and environment it resides.
• Weeds can be persistent – as in continuing to exist or endure; otherwise known as tenacious.

Consider Equisetum, or Horsetail as it is called. It is a true living fossil, and can adapt to even the worst growing conditions. It does not respond to threats by herbaceous weed killers or rooting out because their roots extend to China! Actually, roots or rhizomatous stems can be up to 6 feet long and send out horizontal runners sending out new shoots and even more runners. Try yanking on that!

Weeds mean different things to different people. What I may consider a weed, someone else may cultivate and care for. So, I say again, what to do? The best thing I have found in dealing with weeds in my garden, and in my life, is to remove them as soon as possible. Because sooner or later - what was a weed will still be a weed - only bigger. And since they are competitive, pernicious, persistent, and can only become more difficult to eradicate the longer I wait to get rid of the thing, I have adopted the practice of mindful plucking when I first identify a weed. The more mindful I am about identifying weeds, the better I become at getting rid of them. And when all else fails, I find satisfaction in getting my blowtorch out and taking aim. Flame on!

Horsetails a poppin' photo courtesy of Bradley Davis

Path to Peace

On April 29 - I consider the life of a man struggling with countless complicated issues. My brother, Mike, took his life two years ago today. Many may still wonder how this could happen and why. What I will say is this: In the end, every corner of his life seemed to be failing. So let us not just consider his life, but take note of his death. This was his choice, and I honestly feel a great relief for him. His struggle is over and he is now on a path to the peace he had long searched for.

If Mike had died of a heart attack or cancer, we would not be asking why, we would not be contemplating the what-ifs. There are no do-overs in this, and there are no what-ifs. It is up to us, the living, to accept Mike’s choice, send love his way, and move forward. His family and friends have different memories of him, the best of these we should hold near our heart.

While I know Mike has found his peace, I am not so sure some of those who loved him have. So I offer you my favorite prayer by St. Francis of Assisi, in the hopes you may find your path to peace.

Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is doubt, faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

And where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,

Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;

To be understood, as to understand;

To be loved, as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;

And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Amen.

On this day, my thirty seventh wedding anniversary, I continue to light a pathway of peace for Michael.

Pretty lights photo courtesy of ANDR3W A

Resetting the Highs and Lows

My grandparents were orchardists, and weather was a vital part of their livelihood. In order to track weather trends, Grandpa Leo would head outside to his thermometer hutch every morning and evening to record the high and low temperatures for the day. He had a U-shaped maximum-minimum style mercury thermometer with two magnets that would move along as the temperatures went up or down. After resetting his thermometer, he would note the temperatures in a little black notebook he kept in the hutch.

When I was little girl, staying at their home, Grandpa Leo and I would head out to reset the thermometer together. He would pick me up so I could reach the stylus magnet and move the internal temperature magnets to the current temperature. This needed to be done in order to guarantee a proper maximum-minimum reading. As I grew older, he and I would sit underneath the big, gnarly apricot tree on summer evenings and talk about the weather – how he could smell the rain coming, what the wind direction indicated, what the color of the morning or evening sky might mean, and what the various cloud formations suggested. To this day, first thing in the morning and the last thing at night, I check the outside temperature readings. Grandpa would have loved my weather station because I can track not only highs and lows, but also rain accumulation, wind direction and speed, and an assortment of other weather related data.

Being a gardener, I follow weather trends closely. As if I have a crystal ball, people are always asking me what my weather forecast may be for the week ahead or a particular season. Years ago, weather seemed to be more predictable. In recent years, though, forecasting has become a bit more difficult. With record setting temperatures, rainfall, and snowfall, or lack thereof, my forecasting is not as reliable. But still, I watch the trends, keep an eye on the color of the sky and those cloud formations, take note of the wind direction and how it feels, stick my nose in the air and take in the smell of moisture heading my way, while always tracking those highs and lows. All in all, I do a pretty good job, and I think grandpa would think so, too.

My forecasting isn’t always sun filled days, but swings in temperatures, storms ahead, and everything in between. I’ve learned that weather, as well as the ups and downs of life, can sometimes be predictable; but like most things, out of my control. In order to weather the storms ahead, it is up to each one of us to take note of the trends, keep an eye on what's going on around us, and stick our noses in the air to sense what may be heading our way. But most importantly, we must never forget to reset our highs and our lows on a daily basis. After all, tomorrow is a new day and the forecast ahead is always changing. As I look into my crystal ball, I predict winds of change for all in the days to come.

Max, min and reset button photo courtesy of florriebassingbourn

Do the Right Thing

Thinking about Bucky Beaver in my last post, and continuing to stroll down the memory lane of a young girl, I am reminded about the time I adopted a rather awkward cousin.

Once I learned the basics of swimming, I was a regular at our local swim pool. Joe, one of the lifeguards, was a tall, gawky guy. He wore heavy lensed black framed glasses, had large ears, massive puffy lips, and a very interesting way of moving those long legs of his as he walked the deck around the pool area. He was someone the kids were always snickering about. Having been taunted by the Bucky Beaver moniker, I made sure to not go along with what the other kids were saying, but I had not stood up for him either. One day, I had had it with the funny things they were saying about him, and the who’s this mockery. When they started in, as they usually did when he was on deck, I spoke up and said, “That’s not nice, and by the way, Joe’s my cousin!” They all looked at me, then turned to him and yelled, “She says she’s your cousin.” I looked right at him with a little nodding of my head, and he replied, “Michelle? Of course she is, who didn’t know that?” Those pool kids never made fun of him again. Afterwards, Joe and I always called each other cousin.

When shy me spoke up, I remember my heart beating rapidly, my breath slowing down, and my ears throbbing, as I worked up the courage to speak my mind. I had thought about the moment and knew it could backfire, but I didn’t care anymore. Once I said my peace, I felt an enormous amount of happiness flood through my body like a burst of sunshine. I knew I had done the right thing.

As I grew older, when my friends would make fun of someone, I would not hesitate to say, “Hey, that’s my cousin!” They would turn to the kid, ask them if I was their cousin, and whoever it was always smiled and said, “Yes!” It stopped the taunters dead in their tracks, and stopped the taunting. Back then, I was known to have many cousins.

What did I get out of all of this? Well, for one, Bucky Beaver was fighting back with one little victory at a time, and the other thing I could see happening was a moment of shameful insight realized by those who did the taunting. Perhaps it was a lesson learned going forward in life for some of those kids, I will never know. What I do know is this, doing the right thing always outshines anything else. You can feel it light you up from the inside-out. How cool is that?

The sun shines on everyone photo courtesy of lee