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My Lack of Mindfulness

| Flower Roberts

I am rarely in the present moment. My mind is either in the past or in the future. I hate to admit this, but it is noticeable in my case. I am either in a reflective fog or moving too fast.

This is not a new problem. When my children were small, I drove them through the drop-off line at their elementary school. If you have ever done this, you know it is an irritating parade of dozens of stops and dozens of goes. When I finally made it into the drop-off zone, I stopped one last time and pulled away. The guidance counselor, Mingo, had to chase down my car and knock on the window. I had forgotten one small detail…to let my children out of the van.

Lately, it has been pointed out to me by two separate friends at two different meals that I stab my food like I am angry at it. Mad at food? No. Just thinking of other things as I mindlessly stuff food into my mouth.

This is the reason for today’s read. Wherever You Go, There You Are by Jon Kabat-Zinn. This is a frustrating title for someone who needs to escape herself. I have been sitting in silence trying to absorb its wisdom today without angrily turning its pages.

I have found it interesting. I am proud of the sustained attention I have mustered to read such a book. I am easily distracted, so this would not have been possible at home.

Being in the moment is something I obviously struggle with. The other flaw I am tackling in the coming weeks is fear. People think I am brave, but they do not see how I  constantly fight fear.

My latest fear is that my new hip will go out of joint again.  I fear that I will be alone so no one can call an ambulance this time. I must say that I met an inspiring young EMT named Rambo. She got away before I could propose to her for my son. We need an EMT in this family boy!

It is awful not to trust your own body. I will be doing physical therapy to strengthen the muscles. I have too much to do to lie around thinking. Any level of uncertainity will hold you back, if you let it.

So now, I hope to be mindfully walking, eating and reading.

We shall see!

FLOW

The Crow’s Wings

| Flower Roberts

I heard the crow’s wings beating the air as it flew silently over my head and landed in the tree next to me.

Blue Ridge Mountains


There are always crows here in the mountains.


They are usually squawking and cawing. They are too noisy.



But I did like the sound of the crow’s wings.

FLOW among the crows.

Time to Go

| Flower Roberts

Sometimes the signs are too obvious to ignore. I have been monitoring the conchs at the base of this oak for many years.
Next, a species of bracket fungi colonized in a crevasse at its base several years ago and have continually replaced several generations of fruiting bodies.

Old brackets are dark. Newer ones are rust.


The final sign is a huge hole under the base. Long sticks can be pushed deep down in the earth.

When I removed these today, they were actually cold on a warm day.


I will miss this tree, but it seems to lean toward the neighbors pier. That liability was its death blow.


I hope I am here to record the Watt Tree Service team’s removal of this huge oak. Sad but absolutely necessary.

FLOWER

My Daddy’s Picnic Table

| Flower Roberts

It was always there under the oaks in the shade. Beside the hammock and behind the swing. It was a site for all kinds of action for over sixty years.

Daddy made it long, wide and heavy. We could fit eight friends on it to play ship at sea.

We painted rocks on it. We set up our Sizzler race track and raced cars on it.

We ate on it and played under it. We climbed all over it. We read sitting on the top while the dogs napped underneath.

HAPPY, TRAMP AND PETE
Daddy and Rose

Daddy hosted his group of Lunch Bunch friends there. They ate tomato sandwiches and water melon. Sometimes he made peach ice cream.

My wonderful daddy.

The squirrels gnawed the wood down. I guess it was all that salty goodness that dripped down from all those lunches. The wood rotted and moss grew on it.

After the auction at Enwood, a junk hauling company came to clear everything that was left.

It took three, big men to load that rotten picnic table into the trailer full of debris.

I stood in stunned silence and looked at our old table upside down among the junk.

Notice the squirrel-gnawed legs

It seemed wrong to not have some sort of farewell ceremony for it. It started to rain. The crew rushed to finish.

That fixture from our childhood got hauled away that day.  I felt grateful for all the use we had gotten from it and grateful that the giant, rotten picnic table was no longer our problem.

Enwood is sold. Daddy is in a bluebird blue urn in the mountains. Mama is in a home being perfectly taken care of. I am truly grateful for that, too.

We had over sixty wonderful years under those oaks on Enwood.

Time marches on.

FLOW

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

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