Lisianthus with white peonies.
You know your friends know you, know you well, and care very much,
when they bring you groceries, and think to add cheese, and extra tortillas, and when they include fresh cut flowers, particularly the ones you would have hoped to bring home yourself. Janece and Paul are such friends. I am reluctant to say anything about this, because I feel spoiled, indulged. They pick up our food, and deliver it to our home. If the circumstances were turned, I know I would do the same, and gladly. They know that we have health conditions in our family that make us high risk, vulnerable.
I am so much more than thankful for their help. I am humbled, and I am something
that I cannot find the word for... awe, gratitude, perspective, aware, moved by
: I feel this sense of awe and gratitude and point of view about how generous, supportive, and good our community is, how each of us can give and receive and be stronger, better for it.
What we give cannot always match what we receive, and I've come to believe that when it comes to sharing it's a waste to look for equity, to keep tabs. What I appreciate, and want to build on is, each of us doing what we can, to contribute to the betterment of each other, our neighborhood, the community, our town, the state, the nation, our planet. Let our best actions be like a ripple that moves outward and grows, so that everyone rises, everyone gives, and receives.
It's not only our concern about getting sick, but a question of being able to recover. Sometimes I forget, or I feel apologetic and want to downplay it, but objectively, rationally, our family should not take chances. There is a lot we do already to take precautions, to protect ourselves, and these habits are our personal responsibilities, that we manage. Now, in this pandemic, we are more guarded, and we are surprised, yes, but also disappointed, at how many people are flouting the courtesy and personal responsibility of wearing face masks. It's not alarmist, I am not hiding in a bunker, but the pandemic hasn't been called off. The virus is still taking lives, the risks are real, and numbers are rising. Whether we test, or not, COVID 19 is a healthcare crisis that could be better managed, and that is everyone's responsibility to slow down. Even now, I feel apologetic. Like I parked my feet on a soapbox, and am lecturing. But then I pop over to FB and see these debates... people calling the pandemic "fake!" And other conspiracy garbage, and I can't believe that it's come to this. So, be sure, this is true... Climate change is real. Black lives matter. Love is love. Keep families together. Be kind. Be kind. Be kind. And wear a mask when you go out, because it's an easy thing to do that could save a life.
We love that both of the kittens expose their bellies. Not only that, but they do not retaliate when you give them scritches! Here we have Feynman, taking his nap, in one of his chairs, and he's so content, so certain of his place in the universe, he lays on his back, carefree, and at peace. Seeing him this way always makes me wish this same confidence and sense of worth for everyone. Freedom from fear. Beloved.
Harvests! The gardening we began in March
is yielding fruit! Grow potatoes. I tell you, they are so easy, it's ridiculous. These are from our Perseverance bed, that we planted with sprouted potatoes we found in a drawer. There are probably correct times of year to plant, to harvest, and other details that would make us better potato farmers, but our success with growing these should be encouragement for anyone: It is not hard to get delicious spuds, from old duds.
I hadn't counted in a while, but the chiclets came home March 20th,
so that means they are three months old. I think I have already stated, but I am darn sure they are, after all, pullets. No roosters. Yeah, I still have just a hint of reservation in my voice. I still cross my fingers.
Without any hesitation I will say, they are sweet Chiclets, sociable, and pretty.
Another thing we did last March was rake the rain softened ground and sprinkle some bags of wildflower seeds. In retrospect, I realize they could have done better in a spot with irrigation, and amended soil. That they are "native" flower seeds may be the only chance they had of ever popping out of the ground at all. It's only hard and dry in this end of the yard. And yet! Some success, little beauties. Really, little.
I adore them. I see lupine leaves, and the sunflowers are obvious. Marigolds, yes. The frilly magenta ones, though, and those blue clusters, the pale-pale pinks... those are new to me. Do you know any of these? We got borage, too. I am glad we have tomatoes, and I will devour the potatoes, but it's the flowers. The flowers will always get me. I am ordering mulch. And I am going to find more native wildflower seeds, fairy garden seeds, butterfly garden seeds, and next year, I hope we will see something like a meadow, a billowing lea of little blossoms. Next year,
there is something pretty.
Did I say? Something about mimosa? I love that there are still surprises in the world, in my own backyard. This tree is so drab, so nondescript, until June, and then it bursts with these pink feather flowers. Poofs of pink. And one time, I learned it's a mimosa tree, and promptly forgot that it's a mimosa tree. And then I was reminded... reminded in the sort of way that will stay with me, and make me smile. I follow High Hog Farm
on Instagram... they do so much!
On their Instagram, I saw a familiar flower
on a post about making "mimosa tincture.
" At first I confused "tincture" with what I am doing with the calendula flowers. I have calendula flowers in olive oil, for an infusion
. The tincture
she's making is with the fresh flowers of the mimosa tree and vodka. Should I? Even before this lesson from High Hog Farm,
I was reading about vodka tinctures and I bought a bottle of the alcohol. I don't even know why. Except, I guess sometimes I manage to devise my own surprises.
I'm not much of a drinker, but evidently I am destined to make a tincture, and it might be a mimosa tincture... Keisha says "... it's supposed to help bring forth happiness."
I like that.... to help bring forth happiness.
Cairo takes his naps, and his rattys, to bring forth his happiness. Flowers, taking pictures, reading maps, sharing, those bring forth my happiness. Yesterday, Maria and I poured over a book with thousands of beautiful images, pages and pages, and then we fell asleep, Cairo at our feet, and a cool breeze floating in, and that was a healing, soothing joy. Sometimes I am reluctant to say anything about happiness, and joy, because I feel spoiled, indulged, because I have been called naive, sensitive, a buttercup.
I am sensitive and optimistic, idealistic, I do love pretty,
and even wildly imaginative.
Hello, I am a Buttercup. I want everyone to enjoy comfort and happiness, to have opportunity, justice. Good things are better shared. I am tired of suppressing my nature, my wild imaginings, my hope for my neighbors, our community, your family, our world.
I want to live in a world where we don't need to explain why
Black Lives Matter, and it's not necessary to fight for civil rights, insist on access to healthcare, quality, affordable education. I want to live in a world where safety nets are dependable and accessible for anyone, for everyone, where basic, essential rights and freedoms are embraced, protected, maintained, taught, instilled. Imagine all of the growth and creativity, the well being, and learning we will achieve, when we enjoy true freedom, and liberty for all. Imagine if we all give what we can to help bring forth happiness.
Love you, your writing, your photos, and your heart. <3
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