Gardening, Weeds, and Life

One benefit of gardening: It reminds you of your connection to the natural world and your dependence on nature. Sure, I could walk into the grocery store and buy whatever I need, but growing my own food reminds me of the natural order of things - and has helped me empathize with farmers a lot more! Last week, West Sacramento was hit by a hail storm which left significant damage to our still-young plants. Check out this sad spinach :

And these hole-ridden green bean plants:

My hope is that, since the plants are still young, that they will eventually recover. But hail isn't the only problem we're encountering. Because we failed to mulch initially or put down plastic or anything to prevent weed growth, our naturally weed-prone plot is already overgrown with grass. If grass were edible, we'd be all set to feed ourselves, but sadly the weeds only compete with our plants for nutrients and sunlight. So every weekend we're out there pulling weeds.

Still, the fact that anything is growing at all is a huge encouragement compared with years past.
(Lettuce is above and baby carrots are below.)

After harvesting radishes and fresh butter lettuce for a big salad for Sunday night dinner, my dad made an interesting comment. "That was growing out there? How come all I see in the garden is weeds?" It made me think about perspective and life and how we see what we look for, what we focus on, either in a garden or in life. If we focus on the negative things, we may miss out on the beautiful, delicious elements that make it all worthwhile.

Things to Anticipate

The Press Bistro

When I go through things that are hard for me, one thing I have found to be essential is to always have something to look forward to, today, tomorrow, next week, and next month.

Today, I am looking forward to trying the Mini Burger Truck. I was foiled at the Sacramento Mobile Food Festival when we waited in line for over an hour only to be turned away and told that they would run out of time before they got to us. I hope for greater success today.

Tomorrow, I am looking forward to going out to dinner with a special friend and checking out Sacramento’s Press Bistro. It has a communal table with a sophisticated Mediterranean vibe. I can’t wait to try it!

Next week, our town is getting our own Farmer’s Market (for the first time ever!). I can barely contain my enthusiasm! Bring on the fresh produce, local businesses and the Hotdogger!

Finally, next month is our family vacation to Vancouver, B.C. (Yes, we are still occasionally invited to go on family vacations - particularly when the location is somewhere I have always wanted to go, as in this case.) I already have a list of sights, stores and restaurants that I am aching to see. Ok, fine, I'm a compulsive planner and made the list months ago. But I'm hoping to see everything I can! (Anyone been there? Any suggestions?)

It seems like there’s quite a lot to look forward to indeed!

Unexpectedly Beautiful

The morning still comes obtrusively early, but when I crawled out of bed today, I remembered to practice some yoga stretches to clear my mind.

In the morning, I went for a walk and saw wild turkeys, all pomp and circumstance and feathers. The air was humid and wet and chill. It felt like Oregon or San Francisco, someplace I would like to be.

I crossed a bridge where someone had carefully placed stones in a line along both handrails. The effect was beautiful and zen-like.

Inspired by the dank weather, I treated myself to a steamy hot helping of spicy Thai red curry chicken with sweet pineapple.

Later, when the rain came, I welcomed it, even with a traffic delay. I observed that a gray sky makes a green field even sharper to the eye, which explains Ireland, doesn't it?

Finally, my teacher instructed the class, "Breathe, and let go of everything that doesn't serve you anymore." And I saw all the beauty that this day had held, ever so quietly.

Simple Pleasures

Last night after yoga class, I swung by the library to pick up an audio CD by Anne Lamott that I had on hold. I walked by the Friends of the Library stand and behold, there sat three shiny good-as-new copies of Bon Appetit. For 25 cents each.

Later that night, as I lay in bed under a down comforter and flipped through the pages, I realized that Molly Wizenburg, whose book "A Homemade Life" I just finished and enjoyed, writes a column for the magazine. Hm, I just might need a subscription.

The Gratitude Journal

Have you ever kept a gratitude journal? A good friend of mine, while suffering from depression, received counsel from a therapist to begin regularly keeping a gratitude journal. Every day, she was advised to turn to a blank page in a designated notebook, and write down at least 10 different items she was grateful for, without repetition.

Gratitude is indeed a natural antidote to depression. I have a vibrant green gratitude journal that energizes me every time I look at it. I haven’t written in this journal regularly for some time, for which I blame my husband for making my life too wonderful.

But this week, to honor Thanksgiving, I plan to write down as many things as I can each day that I have to be thankful for. My goal is to reach 100 items by Thanksgiving Day. I hope that this year's holiday will be my most grateful one to date!

Pears - the Most Symbolic Fruit?

A neighbor recently gave us a large paper bag full of pears that had fallen from her tree and were on the verge of going bad. Bruised and covered with not a few brown mushy spots, the pears could easily have been dismissed by the casual onlooker as rotten and tossed in the trash.

I was convinced that I could still make use of some of the pears. I was amazed by how many of the fruits yielded a creamy white, beautifully ripe interior when I sliced them open. My battered pears yielded a huge pot of warmly spiced pear/apple sauce, and a lovely simple pear tart, with firm pear slices pinwheeled through a crunchy golden crumb.

I suppose many people we meet every day are like my pears- the life-battered surface level fails to reveal the pure goodness that often lies within. These pears reminded me that you cannot always judge a fruit by its appearance, much less a person.

The Lost Art of Letter Writing

I am grateful every day for e-mail, blogs and Facebook for allowing me to stay in contact with my many faraway friends.

However, sometimes it’s nice to write hand-written letter to a friend or family member. Children are especially fun to write to because they get so excited when they receive mail. Older folks often love receiving letters as well because they tend to be less comfortable with technology.

I enjoy the physical act of writing something tangible and tactile, something with aesthetic appeal that can be taken out and re-read in years to come. I am learning to use a calligraphy pen and though my skills are still rudimentary, I enjoy dabbling in the long-lost art of penmanship. I always notice how students of the older generation have such gorgeous signatures, due to the mandatory handwriting grade implemented in the past. I fear no one will want to read scribble-scrabble in future generations, so here’s to bringing back proper penmanship and the art of letter writing.

Lost Art of Letter Writing

Why You Should Just Go for It!

A couple of months ago, I did something that was fairly trivial but felt significant and brave to me at the time. I organized a group around something that interested me - food literature. I ignored my inner negative voice and followed an positive impulse. Guess what happened? At first, not a whole lot. And maybe still not a whole lot. But I can’t help but be ecstatic about an e-mail I received this week from a lady at Houghton Mifflin publishers in New York.

Having noticed my group on Goodreads.com and my profile, she wanted to know if I would be interested in being added to a book distribution list for a newly published novel that she thought might interest me. Here is a synopsis of "The Spice Necklace":

"While sailing around the Caribbean, Ann Vanderhoof and her husband Steve track wild oregano-eating goats in the cactus-covered hills of the Dominican Republic, gather nutmegs on an old estate in Grenada, make searing-hot pepper sauce in a Trinidadian kitchen, cram for a chocolate-tasting test at the University of the West Indies, and sip moonshine straight out of hidden back-country stills. Along the way, they are befriended by a collection of unforgettable island characters: Dwight, the skin-diving fisherman who always brings them something from his catch and critiques her efforts to cook it; Greta, who harvests seamoss on St. Lucia and turns it into potent Island-Viagra; sweet-hand Pat, who dispenses hugs and impromptu dance lessons along with cooking tips in her Port of Spain kitchen.

Back in her galley, Ann practices making curry like a Trini, dog sauce like a Martiniquais, and coo-coo like a Carriacouan. And for those who want to take these adventures into their own kitchens, she pulls 71 delicious recipes from the stories she tells, which she places at the end of the relevant chapters. The Spice Necklace is a wonderful escape into a life filled with sunshine (and hurricanes), delicious food, irreplaceable company, and island traditions. "

So basically, I am getting a shiny, brand new novel mailed to me for free. I'm sure the publishing company hopes that readers who receive a free copy will enjoy it and share our impressions with others on Goodreads.com or otherwise like-minded friends. And I am so excited not only to read the book but to pursue more things that I'm afraid of. I have learned that when you listen to the voice that says you can and go for it, you never know what unexpected positive things will happen in your life!

The Daily Good Deed

I recently re-watched one of my favorite movies, Amelie, a French film about a shy young woman who has difficulty interacting with people because of her reclusive childhood. One day, she discovers a hole in her apartment wall in which a young boy stashed a box of his treasured toys 40 years before. After she restores it to it’s rightful owner, she begins dabbling in altruism as a hobby. I love one scene in which she guides the neighborhood blind man down a street to the metro stop, verbally narrating all of the sights, smells, and sounds of the neighborhood, giving the lonely man a fleeting vision of the world around him.

Watching this film always makes me consider what simple good deeds I could do to make the world a little better. Doing a good deed takes me outside of the me-oriented survival bubble that working often leads me to create. Today, I went for a walk and saw a plastic bag in the pond where baby ducklings were swimming, so I fished it out with a sturdy stick and threw it in the nearest garbage can. I believe in the possibility of small gestures making a big difference to someone, somewhere - even if it’s just one piece of litter or one less drowned duckling.

I found some ideas for good deeds - browse and happy good deed-doing!

*Give an honest compliment to 5 people you meet today.
*Every night, for a week, write down 10 things that you are thankful for that happened during the day.

*Share a book.
*Make encouraging bookmarks and leave them inside books of a public library.
*Email someone you admire and tell him/her why.
*Write a letter to your public official and express your suggestions for the community.
*Write a note to thank some one who has positively influenced your life.
*Cook a meal for your family.
*Buy flowers for your mom (or dad).
*Donate old books to a worthy cause.
*Start a "free hug" campaign. (Note: I have actually seen college kids at the Davis Farmer’s *Market doing this - now I know what it was about!)
*Use reusable bags.
*Water the plants.
*Plant a tree and/or a garden.
*Use ladybugs instead of pesticides.
*Teach someone a skill that you know.

How Strong is Your Vocabulary?

I will be the first to admit that since graduating from college, my once respectable vocabulary seems to be diminishing. I'm sure that living in another country and trying to learn Cantonese for 18 months subsequent to my graduation didn't help me retain those cultivated English language skills.

However, I recently found a cool web site that I wanted to share because it helps you sharpen your vocabulary skills and contribute to a charity at the same time, in a very low key way. Visit freerice.com and for every word you correctly define, sponsors will donate 10 grains of rice to the World Food Programme to help reduce hunger. Give it a try!

The words do get increasingly hard as you go along - I usually have to put on my thinking cap after the first few. My best lovel so far has been 31, and I have certainly learned a lot. Good luck and in case you were wondering, a tuffet is a footstool.

Defining Compassion

One of my favorite summer activities is visiting the Davis Farmer’s Market on a Wednesday night. If you’re not familiar with the town of Davis, it is home to the University of California Davis; it is a college town with a very liberal, bohemian flavor. Davis is the kind of place where the residents have built a special tunnel for the frogs, solely to prevent the little creatures from being run over by passing cars. To me, that story sums up Davis in a nutshell.

Their Farmer’s Market is spectacular, offering everything from locally grown produce to bakery items to free-range chicken eggs, even seafood and free-range meats. One can browse the market, grab some dinner one of the many ethnic food stands, and lounge in the park while local musical groups put on free concerts (on Wednesday nights). The people-watching is fascinating and when the weather is warm and mild, it is a recipe for bliss.

One day last summer, my husband and I were doing just this, polishing off top-notch hot dogs and lemonade on a park bench while a big band played jazzy tunes and an older couple a few feet in front of us practiced their swing dancing moves together. (Adorable!) Unexpectedly, a young man (probably a student) approached us and said he was conducting research and asked each of us to write down in his notebook our definition of the word "compassion". We accommodate this request, and I continued to think about the encounter long after he had moved on to speak with other park-goers.

I wonder what the true nature of his experiment was. Was he seeking to learn the meaning of compassion? Or was his real intent to make people reflect on the meaning of compassion, thus displaying more kindness in their treatment of their fellow men?

I can't remember what I wrote at that time, but I like some of the ideas from the Charter for Compassion, where over 43,000 people have affirmed that what the world needs most at this time is (you guessed it) compassion. The charter reads, in part:

"The principle of compassion lies at the heart of all religious, ethical and spiritual traditions, calling us always to treat all others as we wish to be treated ourselves. Compassion impels us to work tirelessly to alleviate the suffering of our fellow creatures, to dethrone ourselves from the centre of our world and put another there, and to honour the inviolable sanctity of every single human being, treating everybody, without exception, with absolute justice, equity and respect."

If you would like to add your name to the charter, feel free! You’ll be joining the likes of the Dalai Lama, Meg Ryan, and leaders from all religious traditions. As Ghandi once stated: "Be the change you want to see in the world."

Making Your Own Dreams Come True

"Do something every day that scares you."-Eleanor Roosevelt

Sometimes I wonder how many things in life we miss out on because of fear, be it insecurity and self-doubt, or just the fear of failure. Although I have experienced these in my life in the past, I am getting to a point of greater stability where I am making an effort to stop listening to the voice in my head that says I can’t and just do things that I want to do. Here are some recent examples:

1) I began taking a yoga class to pursue a long-time desire to learn that had previously always landed squarely in the "someday" category. I was nervous to try yoga because of my limited flexibility and minimal upper body strength. However, I discovered something that I truly enjoy and which nurtures the body, mind and spirit. I can't always do all of the poses or hold them for long, but it's a start down a road that I've been sitting and staring at for a long time.

2) I planned a dinner party, although I have always worried about not being a good enough hostess/cook/conversationalist/etc. I realized that I’m never going to learn how to entertain if I don’t invite friends over, so I’m going for it! (And I'm really excited to plan it, too!)

3) On the booking-reading social network Goodreads.com, I couldn’t find a group to cater to my interest in Food Writing, so I formed my own group. My first impulse was to negatively wonder: "What if no one joins and I look like a loser?" But then a positive voice shot back, "What if people with the same interests do join? What if I can learn more about something that interests me? Why not?"

I am slowly learning to tune into the positive voice and shut out the negative one. I once heard that almost all women (in particular) struggle at times with a negative head voice, or negative self-talk. Maybe the negative head voice is the real enemy for us. Perhaps the only thing holding us back from living the life of our dreams is our own underestimation of our potential. If so, the possibilities are thrilling.

The English Major's Dirty Secret - Revealed!

I am an English major. I am of a romantic and emotional nature. I have frequently lived vicariously through films, music and literature. In college, I related with the main character of Amelie as a fellow introverted would-be altruist. The music of Muse, My Chemical Romance and other various and sundry emo bands supported me through difficult break ups. The Russian novel Anna Karenina showed me the mistakes I’d made in past relationships and taught me how a successful relationship works.

With all of this art appreciation, you might naturally assume that poetry would be right up my lane. Yet Keats, Whitman, and Coleridge perplexed and befuddled me for the most part while I studied them in college. Through research, I gained an admiration for their technical skill and imagination, but this sentiment was not the pure emotion of appreciation and kinship that I feel through other forms of art. And dare I confess... Most of the time, I am left with this sneaky suspicion that I'm missing something, or at worst - I just don't get it.

Before you take away my BA in English in outrage, let me assert that there are some exceptions to this anti-poetry sentiment. Every now and then, I will read a line of iambic pentameter that resonates in my soul. I do enjoy some works by Pablo Neruda and T.S. Eliot, for example. I collect the poems that I do enjoy in a notebook. Here is one such poem, shared with me by my friend Allison Felshaw. This captures how I feel at this time of life - married to a sweet man, enjoying the festivities of the holiday season.

Happiness

It is difficult to know what to do with so much happiness.
With sadness there is something to rub against,
A wound to tend with lotion and cloth.
When the world falls in around you, you have pieces to pick up,
Something to hold in your hands, like ticket stubs or change.

But happiness floats.
It doesn't need you to hold it down.
It doesn't need anything.
Happiness lands on the roof of the next house, singing,
And disappears when it wants to.
You are happy either way.

Even the fact that you once lived in a peaceful tree house
And now live over a quarry of noise and dust
Cannot make you unhappy.
Everything has a life of its own,
It too could wake up filled with possibilities
Of coffee cake and ripe peaches,
And love even the floor which needs to be swept,
The soiled linens and scratched records…

Since there is no place large enough
To contain so much happiness,
You shrug, you raise your hands, and it flows out of you
Into everything you touch. You are not responsible.
You take no credit, as the night sky takes no credit
For the moon, but continues to hold it, and to share it,
And in that way, be known.

~ Naomi Shihab Nye

Note on the author: Naomi Shihab Nye was born on March 12, 1952, in St. Louis, Missouri, to a Palestinian father and an American mother. She currently resides in Texas, although she was raised both in this country and in the Middle East. According to poetry.com, she "gives voice to her experience as an Arab-American through poems about heritage and peace that overflow with a humanitarian spirit".

How To Not Be A Scrooge

Pre-Raphaelite artist Dante Gabriel Rosetti depicts the Nativity

Today, noting that the month of December had arrived, I began to brainstorm my favorite ways to get into the spirit of Christmas.

1) Spend an evening baking cookies, then give them away... But not before tasting a few (or a lot!) myself.

2) Watch the ultimate Christmas movie, in my opinion - "It's A Wonderful Life"! That Jimmy Stewart - such a sweetheart. I cry my eyes out every time I watch it, starting when the mean druggist boxes his ears. Jimmy also stars in my second favorite Christmas film, "Mr. Kreugar's Christmas". My third favorite one is probably Elf, but Will Farrell is no Jimmay Shtewart.

3) Pick a family and do the 12 Days of Christmas for them. Leave little gifts on their doorstep each of the 12 days preceding Christmas. Still trying to pick our family - let me know if you want to volunteer. ;-)

4) Indulge in the beautiful arts. Thus far, we are planning on attending the Sacramento Master Singers' performance at St. Francis cathedral for some classical seasonal music, the Sacramento Ballet's "Nutcracker", our church charity choir concert/canned food drive, and my little siblings' Galena Street East performance. I need to fit some Handel in there somewhere too- my absolute favorite.

5) Drive through a festive neighborhood and enjoy the lights. I'm not sure where I'll go - maybe the Fab 40's? Ideas?

6) We bought a tree and decorated it. I even have my husband's presents wrapped and underneath, half for the sake of festivity and half to give him something to anticipate.

7) Today our bishop challenged each member of our congregation to read the 4 Gospels prior to Christmas. That is going to take a lot of time each day, but we started tonight. As I prepared dinner, Paul read 6 chapters aloud to me. I am excited to attempt to do this, because even tonight's reading served to remind me how much I love the stories and parables in the Bible!

8) Wrapping Christmas presents while listening to Christmas songs on the radio. Most despised: "Christmas Shoes". Too contrived and melodramatic. Favorite: Mostly the older stuff, before modern singers decided to add more runs to their holiday songs than a marathon trainer. I also like to do a sort of one-woman congo line to "Let It Snow" by Gloria Estefan. You know the part - in the bridge, where the brass comes in, "Buh, buh duh duh duh duh duh duh.... BUH!"

Any other ideas will be greatly appreciated! Merry Christmas to all!