Gardening for Sanity

I've been depressed. Not the "tears in my ears from lying on my backing crying over you" type depressed. Just the don't-wanna-do-nuthin' kind. The kind that makes you no fun to be around.

Finally, a helpful thought blossomed: You need to dig in the dirt!

You see, I'd been doing two things with most of my time: writing and studying. That's all well and good, but I needed some nature time.

So, last evening, I spent two hours in the garden pulling weeds, digging out a path, hauling gravel. When it was too dark to see, I came in and, while physically tired, I was emotionally revved.

This morning I faced the computer with aplomb, verve and - dare I say it? - happiness.

What is it about gardening that turns a sour hag into a serene matron?

I think it's largely due to the fact that I cannot think while gardening. Or if I do, it's in a very limited, detached way. My mind floats in and out, mostly out...and is occasionally yanked into stark awareness of the incredible intricacy of a fern, or the heady fragrance of a lily...I pause and marvel at the exquisite complexity of Creation.

And then I drift off into la-la land for awhile and come back refreshed.

And that is why we use the word recreation: it is Re-Creation!

What feeds your soul? What re-creates you?
And, when was the last time you took time for Re-Creation?

Blessings on you!
Miz Woody

Why I Work at Home: Reason 432

During my morning commute to work - from downstairs to upstairs - I paused to look at the backyard. I love gardening so I'm constantly checking to see if anything new has blossomed. My daughter came to stand by me for a minute and instead of, "Good morning," I said, "Oh, what's this?...It's a fawn!"

We stood enchanted for at least 10 minutes, watching a spotted White Tail youngster race around the yard. His mother stood just in the corner, where the tree line intrudes, making sure all was well.

When mother decided Speedy had had enough time in the open, she just disappeared into the trees. Speedy noticed within 2 seconds and jetted off after her.

My sweet daughter (whom, at three, resembled Speedy more than I care to recall)
said, "Well, that was nice." I replied,

"Yeah, that doesn't happen if you live in town...

...or have to go to work."