Stolen Gold

Greenish yellow Dill and little yellow weeds from the
ditch just outside our yard soften and charm this bouquet.

Zip!  Just grabbed that idea and tucked it in my pocket before anyone noticed. I love yellow--yellow anything, so on the way out of our local market, passing the floral section, I snatched the idea of an all-yellow bouquet.  It was sitting on the counter, freshly arranged with large, open umbels.  The whole image smacked my upside the head.  That's when I stole it.

Special guests were coming for dinner all the way from the East Coast, and a bouquet of fresh Western cheer was the greeting I wanted for them. Fortunately, early last spring, a little bird knew this and planted a sunflower seed next to the fence.  Various other golden beauties had self-sewn and were now in bloom.  It took only a moment to gather them up.  Why is everything so easy in the Things I get to do today?

Why is Everything SO delicious and easy?

Gravity

Yellow foxglove pointing the way

It makes flowers grow up.  It seems that no matter the direction of the stem, the flower itself knows how to hold its head up. Weighty blooms on long stems often are not well supported.  The stem leans more and more, but the flower always knows up.  The yellow foxglove just turns up the end of the stem.  Shasta Daisies put their yellow faces up.  My tomatoes were lying down a bit.  When they were tied to their supports, the stems had some pretty odd angles, but in the day or so they all straighten out and knew which way was up.  Gravity is the friend that shows the way.

Stems flat but faces turning up

Some times when it seems there are too many Things I get to do today, or I feel too distracted to know which way is up, looking at a simple, elegant flower will give me my directions.  Settle into the energy of the earth (gravity) and you'll see which way is up.

For Evelyn

Rhodies--magnificent, exquisite, luscious

My mother-in-law, Evelyn,  loved flowers.  Mother's Day was her favorite time of spring--a son was born May 10th which often falls on that special day--partly because the rhododendrons are in full bloom.  We always hope that a few will still be fresh on Memorial Day.  We know she gets a special zing from having several lush blooms on her grave.

Tuesday's Things I get to do today usually includes a letter with pictures to my elderly Aunt Freda. She'll love these flowers from Portland.  While I'm at it, let's just toss this picture out to the whole world--for Evelyn as well.  All souls love beauty--and this one is a beauty, indeed.

Tooth Fairy Flower

Today is the day to come clean, to fess up, to no longer keep this dirty little secret.  Well, maybe it’s only dinge.   You decide.  Deep breath, here I go:  in the very recent past I’ve not practiced excellent  oral hygiene. 

There.  I said it.  Right out loud before God and all of you.  Understand, I’ve brushed my teeth all these years pretty faithfully twice a day.  I’ve used my little jet-spray-water-between-the-teeth-and-on-the-gums tool.  OK.  Maybe only three times a week or a little less.  And I’ve flossed a couple of times a week.  All right—if I’m really tell the truth—there have been weeks on end when I’ve not flossed at all.

In a previous blog I touted the virtues of doing something better if faced with a task that one doesn’t really relish.  In the spirit of “practice what you preach,” I’ve begun to apply the principle of “do it better” to my mouth care.

Instead of rushing the brushing so I can move on to the Things I get to do today, I’ve created a very short morning hygiene ritual (6 minutes--I timed it) to honor the years of service my teeth have given me and, equally important, to perpetuate their future years of service.  I want us all to be in great shape to the very end.

Deep, deep breath.  Final part of the secret and this one is dirty.  I’ve never flossed under my bridge.  Even the threat of having to have it replaced—a painful and expensive ordeal—did not motivate me.  I disliked getting out the little loops, putting the floss in, and then putting it in again because it had fallen out, etc.  so I glossed over the guilt and went out to plark*.

Last week I discovered some bridge-flossing loops that looked like plastic darning needles.  They appealed immediately to my sewing instincts.  Tried one.  Liked the ease, but thought of having to add that to my ritual and realized I probably wouldn’t.  But what if I. . .  The lights came on, the flower sprouted.  Minutes later my floss flower was in full bloom and ready for nearly a week’s worth of bridge maintenance.

Little floss stamens, newly sprung from a salt center.

My mouth is happier than it has ever been before, and the weight of guilt over such a small thing has floated up and away like the seed from this tooth-fairy flower.

*You remember what that means.  See post of 9/20/11.