As I look back through the photos of the last week, it strikes me that they are on the whole pretty melancholy shots, lots of greys and browns and sepia.  I thought I should brighten it up.  All of us in the Northern Hemisphere could probably use a shot of color right about now anyway.

This is the ornamental kale, photographed while standing under the eave of the house carefully shielding the camera from the pouring rain.  (Can you see the drops actually falling in the shot?)

I’m sure my neighbors thought I’d lost it for sure, or perhaps wasn’t the smartest of human beings to begin with.

“Her porchlight doesn’t shine very bright, bless her heart,” as they say in the South.

On a side note:  Why is it that Southern women, when we are saying something vaguely insulting, add the phrase “bless her heart” or “bless his little heart” to the sentence?  I’m not sure any heart but our own needs blessing when we are gossiping and speaking less than kind words.  Nonetheless, I find it a strangely charming affectation.  (Such is the power of culture, I suppose.)

My mother took it to new heights whenever we would pout or whine as children, saying in tones dripping with mock sympathy, “Well, bless your little pea-pickin’ hearts, y’all have got it so bad!”  And it always made us laugh and realize we were being rude and ungrateful.

If I’m able to restore part of that garden plot, I may be pea-pickin’ for the first time in my life.  (Well, unless you count crowder peas.)  After yesterday’s flash flood damage, I’m even considering growing the peas in pots and letting them vine up the porch railing.

Has anyone grown peas in containers?  I’d love some advice.

No damage was done to the area slated for cabbage.  (Knock on wood.)  In fact, this photo makes me imagine the fat red heads of cabbages to come.  My transplants are arriving the second week of February, and according to my regional info for the Piedmont of South Carolina, we can plant as early as Valentine’s Day.

Wonder if F. will think I’ve lost it if I suggest that the gift I really want on lovey day is some help putting in the transplants and generally getting everything spiffy out there for the spring season kitchen garden.  Hmm…

Ah, well, he knows all about my porch light’s eccentricities by now.  After all, I wrinkled up my nose at the idea of a diamond but squealed with excitement when he bought me some red worms in a plastic bucket.

Bless all your little pea-pickin’ hearts this Friday — even though I am sure you are never rude or ungrateful, but always lovely and kind.   If your comments are anything to go by, readers of this blog are the soul of graciousness and gentle wit.

The high today in Seneca, South Carolina is 41 degrees Fahrenheit.  (By the way, when in doubt, this blog will always be written in Fahrenheit.  But I believe that’s about 5 degrees Celsius.)

Right now, it’s 32 outside, and I’m dreading running my errands and putting them off until the weak winter sun “warms” things up a little.  I’ve even delayed going out to the compost pile with the kitchen scraps.

Can you tell I’m not a fan of the cold?

For the rest of the week, we’re barely cresting above freezing each day, and there’s a chance of snow flurries on Friday night.  Since F. loves snow so much, for his sake I’m glad.  But for my sake, I’d just rather we skipped right on to mid-March.

The oldest leaves of the ornamental kale are showing a bit of their blue side, too.

This photograph reminds me to mention that for those of you following along, or attempting to, at both blogs, I did indeed choose my word of the year and wrote about it here.  That word is Focus, which seemed just right for me on so many levels, once I got over my initial discomfort with it.  (The word seemed to choose me, not the other way around.  F. says there’s a name for this in psychology, and that it’s all a self-made mind game.  But then, he’s never been chased around by a word for two weeks.)

I can’t remember if I wrote here on this blog about choosing a word for the year, rather than doing traditional resolutions — which I usually avoid like the plague.  The last month is such a blur, frankly.  But I did get a nice e-mail asking me if I’d ever made up my mind and posted about it, and the answer is yes, but on the other blog.

New Year’s resolutions are a common topic in the blog-o-sphere right now.  If you’d like to read a lovely little post about why one woman avoids them, a post that’s beautiful and clever and succinct (I could certainly take lessons on the latter), take a look at this one by Talon from 2008.  I found it while browsing her archives and was struck by its depth, camouflaged in simplicity.

And if you’ve set some intention or made any resolutions for 2010, I do hope they’re going swimmingly for you so far.

I’ll close by sending y’all a warmth-inducing shiver from down South.  Maybe we should all meet and get in a huddle somewhere in the middle of the continent… or head to Australia where some of my blog acquaintances are now complaining of the searing heat.  Lucky dogs.

Just yesterday I was musing on the idea of us all being “green under the skin.”   I didn’t mean the kermit kind of not-fitting-in-with-the-mainstream green.  Nothing so symbolic.  I was really thinking of how our entire existence is built upon the work of chlorophyll in transforming sunlight into a kind of energy that may be transferred between lifeforms all the way up the food chain.

Without the initial energy transfer done by the plant cells, none of this would exist.  No green plants, no world.

The “green fuse that drives the flower” drives me and you and everybody else.  Such power is awe-inspiring.

And it was this photo which somehow set off that train of thought, with my bemused noticing of the bit of lichen growing on the end of the pine straw, and how it echoed the lowlights and hints of green in the kale leaf.

I realized this morning that it’s the Solstice, celebrated some places under the name Yule, and thus Greenman is being born today.  He’s an ancient character, and various versions of his face pop up all over the globe. You probably have an image of him pop into your mind’s eye, even before you click on the link, if I tell you Greenman is the one with the vaguely-human leaf-covered face, the one who looks like the personification of my thought about us all being green under the skin.

It seems strange that he’d be born today, when it’s so cold and the world looks, well, dead.

But then again, his birthday does make perfect sense.  Solstice means “a pause, apex, or turning point.”  Yule originated from the Norse and means “wheel.”  The great wheel of the year is indeed at its turning point all over the world today.  Every day for the next half a year, we’ll be getting more minutes of sunlight until we reach the next Solstice in June*, when the green that clothes the Earth will be at or near its seasonal peak.

We couldn’t have a plant-faced deity being born then; he’d need to be his grown-up self to take full advantage of all of those rays; right?

The Earth is turning, and I’m taking this pause at the top of the wheel’s flight to recognize how much I am supported, by all of the green life and all of the mysterious, interwoven, organic systems on this planet, and to observe with awe and gratitude how very much we are all intertwined.  You and I, and the bees, and the trees.  I’m grateful that reality could penetrate my busy modern consciousness for more than a flash.  So often, I forget.

In that spirit, I wish everyone a joyful Yule, a deep and meaningful Solstice, and the wonderful reminder that we are all green under the skin.

*This reality, of course, is reversed for those of you reading this in the Southern Hemisphere.

Related Posts with Thumbnails

Tags

wonder(5) winter(6) weather patterns of autumn(5) vines(5) vine(6) victory garden(31) the Victory Garden(11) The Four(5) sunlight(8) sunflower(5) spring(9) South Carolina Botanical garden(13) snow(6) seed saving(6) seeds(7) seed leaves(5) seasonal changes(6) saving seed(8) pollen(6) photography(4) perspective(5) paying attention(4) patience(5) parsley(4) organic gardening(36) organic garden(12) okra(6) National Breast Cancer Awareness Month(6) nasturtium(9) mystery(4) Mother Nature(4) Morning Glory Grandpa Ott(6) morning glory(9) morning glories(4) Love(8) Louisiana Purple-podded Pole Bean(4) living in the moment(5) lettuce seedlings(4) Leo Chapo(4) kitchen garden(29) joy(10) Ipomoea batatas 'Black Heart'(4) Ipomoea batatas(4) Ichiban eggplant(4) hummingbird(5) heritage(5) Herbs(5) heirloom vegetable(6) heirloom tomatoes(4) heirloom tomato(5) heirloom seed(5) heirloom okra(4) heirloom morning glory(7) heavy rain(4) heart(4) harvest(4) half-runner beans(11) growing heirloom vegetables(7) growing heirloom tomatoes(9) gratitude(14) gardening through the seasons(5) gardening for hummingbirds(4) garden(8) Foliage(5) Focus 2010(16) focus(7) Flowers(6) flowering vines(5) flowering vine(7) flower(4) Fife Creek Cowhorn okra(4) family heirloom seed(4) family heirloom(4) eggplant(4) easy to grow(5) drought(4) cucumber(4) crookneck squash(5) Cracoviensis(4) Costoluto Genovese(4) cosmos(5) compost pile(4) Christina Martin(5) Cherokee Purple(7) changing seasons(4) cardinal climber vine(17) cardinal climber(12) Capturing Beauty's Rainbow Challenge(18) cabbage transplants(5) bumblebee(7) breast cancer awareness(4) breast cancer(4) blossom(7) bee(9) Beauty(90) basil(5) awareness(4) autumn in the garden(6) autumn color(5) autumn(4)
© 2012 The Enchanted Earth Suffusion WordPress theme by Sayontan Sinha
Rss Feed Tweeter button Facebook button Reddit button Delicious button Digg button Stumbleupon button