Author: Flower Roberts

Gain Comes from Loss

| Flower Roberts

I am a firm believer in silver linings. This wisdom comes from years full of challenges and loss. Memories of times before a loss are more precious afterwards. Our lives get divided by important events, not dates.


There are memories partitioned off as befores and afters; before a death, after a birth, before Covid, after a move, before a marriage, after a graduation, before a diagnosis…


Time gets sorted into pieces colored by the challenges of the times. Sometimes those times are dark and hard, others are joyous and new.
There are shifts in our lives that seem to recalibrate everything of importance. These are the markers that divide our stories into chapters.


I have been working on a timeline of my earlier life. There were marriages, births and deaths during these years. Big changes came to my young life. As I record this series of events, I am amazed that life went on despite the losses. It seemed like time stopped, but it did not.
Careers started, babies were born and houses were built. We just carried our grief along with us as we moved forward.


We were resilient. Braver than before. Stronger than before. More determined.

As we approach another holiday season; there will be much loved people or pets that are missing. Careers and health may have changed.

But here we are decorating another tree. Pausing to remember the origin of the ornaments. Smiling at the photos, art and tiny handprints from holidays past. Hanging a stocking that will contain only memories, but still holds a place for someone special.

We are still here. Stronger and braver.

That is the brightness I am going to use as my guiding light. I am thankful that past hardships have brought us here to be grateful for what has passed and what is ahead.

Bring it! We can handle it.

FLOW

My Many Roles

| Flower Roberts

It is hard to believe that I have worn so many hats through the years. Some have been long term, others not so long. I am still a daughter and a sister. Both of these roles have lasted over sixty years.

I have many friends that have been around over forty years. I consider this remarkable, since I have moved around and changed so much. These are the people that really know me. I am grateful that they continue to be part of my life.


My role as mother is still an active one.  Rose is still home as she navigates through more epilepsy medication changes which means no driving. My son is living hours away and independent, but I choose to think he still needs me.


My wife role started almost forty years ago. We each had different expectations from a spouse. Our parents’ marriages were at opposite poles. Those rules don’t work anymore. I hope my children will forge their own ideas into their future relationships instead of following our lead. Every marriage is unique.

My official student roles lasted over seventeen years. I love to learn and would gladly return to be a student of botany, zoology, mycology or immunology. My memory is not what it used to be, but my experience and enthusiasm might get me through one more degree.

I have filled many teacher roles. I started in high schools, then community college, followed by seven years in middle school and lastly back to community college. I was happy to shed these roles, even though I really loved my students.

I ran my own tiny garden art business for over five years. I made pieces of outdoor art with concrete, Portland cement, peat moss, stones, tile and glass. I guess that started all the photography. My benches weighed over 300 pounds. It was a good run, but it was really hard on my body.

I will spare you the long list of bit parts I have played at churches, civic organizations and my children’s schools.

My latest roles as writer, photographer and gardener have suited me best of all. I enjoy the quiet solitude and self-pacing. I finally have a leading role in my life with a remote audience. I give only what I want to these parts. They are not demanding nor draining.

I hope I will find peace and satisfaction now that I have stopped wearing so many hats and filling so many shoes. No pay or praise expected.

I want my last role to be as just me.

FLOW

PlantPop’s Films, Festival, Funding and more – your Questions (mostly) Answered

| Flower Roberts

I recently attended the 6th Annual PlantPop Film Festival in Norfolk, Va. and I have a report! So first, I imagine you’re asking: What IS PlantPop exactly? It’s a Film Production Company PlantPop is a 10-year-0ld film production company that commissions short films, mostly about interesting people doing cool things with plants – 359 of […]

PlantPop’s Films, Festival, Funding and more – your Questions (mostly) Answered

I Am in ‘It’ll Do’ Mode

| Flower Roberts

Do not be concerned by my messy house and weedy gardens. There has been a paradigm shift in my mode of operandi. Perfection is no longer considered an option. I will gladly hand off my crown to the nearest over-achiever.

This handy term ‘It’ll Do’ came to us during the worst trip we have ever taken. On our way to our destination in Tennessee we spied a tiny motel by the side of the highway with the sign ‘It’ll Do Motel’ out front. Of course we thought this was hysterical…until we saw the place where we had reservations. It wouldn’t do, but it had to.  We arrived in the late evening with no time to look elsewhere.

This hotel was mentioned in a famous book about AIDS. It was infamous for being a hub for spreading HIV all over America as reported in My Own Country by Abraham Verghese. This was no surprise to us.  The snitchy furnishings, nasty bathroom, small hole in the wall above the bed and all-night comings and goings were clues.We all slept in our clothes and socks, except for the debutante. She got food poisoning at supper and slept fitfully in her lovely white nightgown between bouts of vomiting.

So the It’ll Do Motel looked pretty good as we passed it on our way home. Our family has used this nickname ever since when we complete a task using minimum standards. Sometimes we add ‘Bittle Boo’ to the end because mama loves rhymes.

So my new mode is ‘Completed As Needed’ i.e. ‘It’ll Do.’  No struggling for perfection from this wise old bird. Those high standards were nothing but barriers that kept me from trying new things. I am learning to kick my insecurities to the curb.

I hope my children are noticing this change,  along with the increased mess and decreased profanity. I have waited a long time for this wisdom. Wonder what else I have been doing so right that it’s wrong?

We shall see.

BITTLE BOO

Who Will be the Glue?

| Flower Roberts

The question everybody asks right after “Are you ready for Christmas? is “What are you doing over the holidays?” This question had an automatic response until recently.
Now that Daddy is gone and Mama’s in a home, the answer is more complicated. There is no grandmother’s house to travel to.


Our children are grown, our cousins are scattered. Our aunts and uncles are not so spry and energetic anymore. Who will be the glue?


I am going to nominate my sister. She has a house all to herself. Nobody makes messes or gobbles up her food as fast as she makes it. Her house is already decorated. She is nicer than I am anyway and everybody knows where she lives.


Somebody has to be the family glue! She talks to everybody on the phone. This makes her the family favorite, so I think she is the most logical choice for our holiday hostess.

Everybody meet at her house around 10:30 Christmas morning. Bring your favorite dish and a gag gift. You out-of-state folks may need to pack sleeping bags. All pets welcome.

Don’t mention this to her though. I want it to be a SURPRISE!

FLOW

The Chicken Wire Ball

| Flower Roberts

I should not carry things up the steps. My helpful family tried to assist with decorating by hauling everything Christmas upstairs to our greatroom. Most of what came up was obsolete decorations, old strings of dead non-LED lights, Christmas cards labeled 2017 through 2020 and momentos that I just can’t seem to part with.

These things encircled me as I sat on the couch planning my strategy. The circle seemed to slide inward until I could not move. This was proof of two things.

  1. A serious purge of everything Christmas is needed.
  2. If nobody can recognize the currently used decorations, then nobody really cares. Hi Ho!

One thing among the Christmas chaos stood out above the rest. It was a beachball sized chicken wire ball I made years ago and never finished it. This rusty monstrosity has been hanging overhead in my workshop for years.

Why would anyone think this piece of junk needed to be hauled upstairs and placed at my feet like an offering from the Magi?

I asked Mr. Flower to plug it in. The lights did not work. I laughed outloud.

This chicken wire ball is the perfect symbol for the past five years in our family. If you are a loyal follower, you may remember that I spent Christmas Eve of 2019 in the ICU with my daddy watching all the blinking lights on his monitors. He did not get home ’til March, but when he did, he popped a Christmas music CD into the player in the living room which drowned out the instructions that the therapist was trying to give us.

My sister thought this concert was sweet. I found it irritating…of course. We saved all gifts to open when he got home. What would Christmas be without Daddy? We know now…Never the same.

So the chicken wire ball is the perfect example of postponed progress. Sometimes life sidetracks you so you end up doing things way past when you expected… Like listening to Christmas music in March.

I put new lights on the chicken wire ball today. I plugged them in before I wound them around and around that rusty orb. They are bright white so as to shine brightly.

I think it looks nice out there lighting the darkness. I hope Daddy can see it.

FLOW

Slapped by a Book

| Flower Roberts

I knew that I would find something useful in the Brianna Wiest books. I have been backtracking decades into my past for the book that I am birthing. It has to do with men making choices for the women they love. I started out focusing on three events but it has morphed, as all writing does.

I am trying to understand my present-self based on how my former-self handled these paternalistic events. This is not as boring as it sounds.

As I am trying to find ways to get out of my own way to figure this out, I stumbled upon the title, The Mountain Is You. This caught my attention because all my journeys seem to involve climbing uphill.

The slap came last night from page 147. I usually write OUCH next to something that is painfully true. This paragraph hurt so badly that I had to reach for a highlighter.

The slap of epiphany.

The heading of this section is ‘ Letting Go Of Unrealistic Expectations.’  This was calling my name loudly. The gist of it was IF you cannot love yourself UNTIL you have risen to your idea of perfection, then you have NOT healed the wound.

There went my weight-loss, beautification, start a new, lucrative career plan for 2025. Bummer. I was looking forward to all that surface-level self-improvement torture.

Changing what’s on the outside is so much simpler than doing the work of fixing what is broken inside.

So here I am at the base of this mountain preparing to climb to a new, improved, happy self and this guru, Brianna Wiest, says I must find my happy place BEFORE I start climbing.

Well damn!  I guess I will just keep digging for gold in myself. I do find a nugget once in a while.

What a relief!

FLOW

Finding a Pearl

| Flower Roberts

A pearl is formed because the oyster is irritated by a tiny object, such as a grain of sand, that gets trapped between the oyster’s mantle and its shell. To relieve its discomfort the oyster secretes layers of mother-of-pearl (nacre) around the grain to smooth it and soothe the irritation.

I have been looking for a pearl. The grain of sand was shame. Layers have been formed to protect me from this event. The surprise was not the grain of shame. It was the stories I told myself to soothe the hurt.

I saw those layers this morning. That one event shifted my thinking. It changed how I saw myself. The shame sent me in a different direction. The consequence was unintended, but the result caused a shift in my identity and goals.

The term Pearls of Wisdom has a whole new meaning. I did not want this pearl, but I needed to find it to move forward.

Be careful what you say to your daughters. Pearls are made from pain.

FLOW

Pearl from cover of Tears of a Mermaid by Stephen G. Bloom, a great book

Exposed by Ink

| Flower Roberts

I am a pencil person. I even put an extra cap eraser on new pencils. I write more freely knowing my mistakes can be erased.
Why would anyone want to keep their mistakes in plain view? It seems stifling to have to be careful so as not to make permanently visible mistakes.

I did not like the Pen Only rule in chemistry lab. I was insecure enough without being forced to share my mistakes. It seemed mean to make it mandatory to keep messy marked-out methods in my lab book.

The reasoning behind the rule was that one should learn from mistakes. By examining the method used, one could correct mis-steps for a better outcome. This did prove to be of use at times, but all those corrections ruined the neat and orderly appearance of my lab notes.

I did not want anyone to know how many wrong turns it took for me to get to the right place. It was embarrassing to have my scribbles graded along with my data. I suspected that my mess was messier than other students’ messes. I was ashamed of my Pen Only work. It could never be perfect.

I appreciate preserving my methods and mistakes now. I learn more from meandering than from going straight for an answer. There is a lot of wisdom set down on paper in doodling. Mind wandering can discover covered-up treasure.

I still love my erasers. Neatness has its place. But if you are writing something important, you might want to use a pen and keep those booboos handy in case you accidently uncover something magical by mistake.

FLOW