Pearls Before Swine does it again

I agree with Stephan Pastis so often, it amazes me. The sense of entitlement that exists in society approaches nonsensical at times. He sums it up perfectly. 

Pearls Before Swine by Stephan Pastis

An autumn visit to Åsgårdstrand

Our annual autumn trip took us this year to Åsgårdstrand, a small resort town situated on the west coast of Norway, about 60 miles south of Oslo. We'd never been there before, so we decided to visit, especially after our visit to the new Munch Museum in Oslo where we learned that Edvard Munch had lived there. He bought a small summer cottage in Åsgårdstrand in 1898 and painted several famous paintings while he lived there during the summers, among them, Summer Night at Åsgårdstrand and the Girls on the Bridge. 

We stayed one night at the Grand Hotel in Åsgårdstrand, which was a very nice hotel overlooking the ocean. The weather was sunny and warm on both the Saturday and Sunday we were there, so we walked around the harbor area and then up the hill to the town center where there were some cafes and galleries. Munch's summer cottage was closed by the time we arrived on Saturday, so we'll have to visit it another time. After dinner at the hotel, we walked around the harbor area again. It was a clear moonlit night, and the moon lit a path on the ocean. 

During the summer, the town is most likely filled with tourists and boaters, since the harbor had a guest wharf for those who visit by boat. I'm sure it's nice to visit the town during the summer, but I preferred being there during the off-season because there were less people to contend with. I can definitely understand why Munch took a liking to this town. I took some photos and am posting them here. 

Munch's summer cottage is the yellow house to the left

Realizations

I don't view retirement as the end of something, but rather as the beginning of something else--a new adventure. I like where it is leading me. I am rediscovering parts of myself that I loved when I was a teenager and young adult. Interests that have been suppressed because there was little to no time to pursue them. 

When I'm at parties and social events, some people ask me why I retired early. I tell them that I got tired of the bullshit spouted at the departmental/management level. I got tired of listening to it and having to defend it. I got tired of talking about the same issues and problems ad nauseam. I got tired of no solutions, only talk. Talk, talk, and more talk. And having to go to meetings to talk about everything just a bit more. Meetings make the days go round. But not for me. I just wanted to get off the merry-go-round. So, I did. I was in my late fifties when I got tired of the bullshit. There are a few people who have commented that I could have kept on working until retirement age. My answer? I could have, but I didn't want to. I did what I wanted to do--leave. I left behind a work world that no longer suited me or me it; I left behind a work world that did nothing for me anymore. I got tired of giving my all (and more) and watching those who gave half as much get ahead or get the same rewards (salaries and perks) as those who worked much harder. I got tired of incompetent leaders telling us all what to do and draining the annual budgets with their bloated salaries. My former public sector workplace could have gotten rid of at least three levels of leadership, and then they would have had the long-sought after money to do some of the things they need and want to do. But that won't ever happen. Not in Norway, and not in public sector workplaces, which are top-heavy with administrative positions. 

Once you see through something or someone, it is very difficult to go back to pretending that all is fine. And yet we do that for so much of our lives, live on the surface and act 'as if', in order for things to function smoothly, especially at work. And that's ok, until it isn't. By the time one reaches a certain age, the desire for a more honest way of living is something that can no longer be suppressed, at any cost. 

I keep in touch and socialize with my former colleagues several times a year. Some will remain in my life, and some will not. That's ok. Some older colleagues need to keep pretending that they are happy working. And some few are happy working, so more power to them. I want the younger ones to be happy in their jobs. It's no fun to want to retire when you are in your late forties/early fifties and still have twenty-some odd years to go. Best to love your work for as long as you can. The problems start when you no longer love it and when you can no longer 'cover' over or suppress your unhappiness and dissatisfaction. 

I like my free time, and I like having alone time. I like being able to choose when I want to socialize and when I want to be by myself. I like not having to be 'on' all the time. 

My happy place is my garden. God gave me that gift right at the point when I got tired of most everything else. It reinvigorated me in a way that nothing else has or could. I am forever grateful for what my garden has given me--grace in all forms. 

I love being outdoors. I love to go out walking, be out in nature. When I am in New York, my friends and I usually end up visiting one or another garden or park. There are plenty of them in Tarrytown and the Hudson Valley where I grew up. Here in Oslo, I walk along the Akerselva river or along the city streets until I find a small park. It doesn't matter for the most part where I end up, just that I am outdoors. 

I've decided to take some online courses in horticulture and plant science via the New York Botanical Garden, for no other reason than to learn. To learn. Not to compete with anyone else, not to win a medal, not to be the best at anything. Simply to learn. 

I am relearning Spanish using the online program Duolingo. It's free and it's good. It all depends on how much time you put into it. I started last December and use half an hour each day to learn and relearn Spanish. I have six years of Spanish between high school and college. I got so far in college that I could write long term papers about Spanish poets (Antonio Machado comes to mind). When I read what I wrote then, I marvel at how much Spanish I actually understood. But I need to get better at speaking the language. Because I want to visit Spain with my husband at some point, and I want to be able to converse simply with the Spanish people. 

I love the New York Times crossword puzzles and games, specifically the daily crossword puzzle, Wordle, and Spelling Bee. They keep me on my toes from an English language point of view. They challenge my brain and that's a good thing. Living in another country can wreak havoc with your retention of English language vocabulary. Wordle and Spelling Bee challenge me to remember my English vocabulary. 

I'm reading different authors and understanding that some authors that have been pushed as excellent are authors I find average at best--Joan Didion and Alice Munro come to mind. Didion does little for me (I've written about her before), and Munro is frustrating to read. Her short stories always end in an odd way; odd doesn't have to be a bad thing, but in her case, it is, because the stories rarely offer any resolution. Some few do, but most don't. Some people may say that's life, that there's no resolution for most of what involves us. Maybe it is, but I don't want to read a lot of stories that end in an ambiguous or frustrating way. Winning the Nobel Prize in Literature (Munro) is no guarantee that you will like the author's writing. So much I've realized. 

H.P. Lovecraft comes to mind as a very good author. Imaginative writing, eerie settings, a feeling of sinisterness. He's a horror and fantasy writer, a very sophisticated one. Not a lot of blood and gore. More the suggestion of the nasty things that can or will happen, the creepy things in dark corners of one's mind or room, or the appearance of monsters that will make your blood run cold. He isn't big on conversation in his stories, but the moods he creates are intense and memorable. His writing gets under your skin; at least it got under mine. I think he is a far better writer than either Didion or Munro, who have not gotten under my skin at all, but literary pundits will tell me that I can't compare genres. I'm doing so anyway. I think he is a very good writer. 

The sound of the bumblebees

I could relate to this comic strip--the sound of bumblebees in the garden.....Always a welcome and nice sound. Even though I like the different seasons, I wish winter was shorter so that we could get back to gardening sooner, all of us, including the bees. 

Fred Basset by Alex Graham

Two gardens worth visiting--Untermyer Gardens and the New York Botanical Garden

On my recent trip to New York in September, I visited Untermyer Gardens (Untermyer Gardens Conservancy - Home) with Jean and the New York Botanical Garden (Home » New York Botanical Garden (nybg.org) with Jola. Both Jean and Jola enjoy gardening and visiting gardens of interest, so it's always enjoyable to visit different gardens with them. 

I've written about Untermyer Gardens in this blog before (A New Yorker in Oslo: Untermyer park and gardens (paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com); if you'd like to read more about the history of this garden I suggest Wikipedia and the Untermyer Gardens Conservancy websites. I visited Untermyer together with Stef and John in 2019 (pre-pandemic). A lot has changed in the space of three years; all of the changes are for the better, as they usually are in a garden. During the pandemic, the garden conservancy board planned and hosted different webinars that updated us on some of the changes occurring in the garden--new plantings, new areas dedicated to specific plantings, and renovation/repair of existing structures. The gardens are the venue for different music and dance concerts (carefully chosen) throughout the summer months. The dance concerts especially interest me since I used to dance modern dance many years ago; perhaps one summer I will be able to attend one. 

The New York Botanical Garden (NYBG) has been in existence for a long time, similar to Untermyer Gardens that started development in 1916. The NYBG was established in 1891 and is the largest botanical garden (250 acres) in the USA. It is a national historic landmark that in addition to exhibiting a large diversity of beautiful plants (annuals and perennials), offers programs in horticulture, education, and science. Basic and applied botanical research are also conducted at the NYBG. I've written about this garden before as well in this blog (A New Yorker in Oslo: Beautiful New York State (paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com) when I visited NY in 2011. In the early 1980s, I lived in the Bronx and was able to walk to the garden from my apartment on 205th street near the Grand Concourse. Visiting the garden was always a pleasure during the spring, summer and fall months. I remember that I took a daylong course in the use of herbs for medicinal purposes at the NYBG during one of the winters I lived there. Nowadays the garden offers online and in-person courses for people of all ages. I have already registered for one of them: Put Your Garden to Bed, a two-hour course that will provide advice on how to prep your garden for winter. There are also courses in soil science (soil chemistry) that I hope to investigate next semester. 

Here are some photos taken at Untermyer Gardens!

The Walled Garden

one of the pools (canals) in the Walled Garden

The Vista, which descends to the Overlook

closer view of the Overlook, facing west toward the Palisades

a view of the lovely Hudson River from the Temple of Love area

And here are some photos taken at the New York Botanical Garden, of flowers in the tropical water lily pond, of a mosaic plant in the same pond, of the perennial garden, and of a beautiful ceramic urn standing in the vicinity of the perennial garden. 

Random reflections on this autumn day

• I'm one year retired. No regrets. I love my free time and am enjoying life in a whole new way. 
• Since I retired, I've published three books: a poetry collection (Movements Through the Landscape); a memoir about growing up in Tarrytown, New York (A Town and a Valley. Growing Up in Tarrytown and the Hudson Valley); and a meditative book about gardening (The Gifts of a Garden). All of them are available for purchase on Amazon. I am working very hard to market the latter book, although I'd like all of the books to sell a bit if possible. Sending prayers into the universe for support.
• Marketing books is a job unto itself. I wonder how well other authors do this job.
• Forty years ago, I started working at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center. A wonderful workplace, one I will never forget. It changed my life in all good ways and showed me what good leadership really is (professional generosity and wishing others well). 
• I think about those friends and colleagues who are no longer with us. I wish they were still here--Liza, Thu, Debby. You left us too soon. 
• I think about friends who are ill and what they go through every day, living with anxiety and the knowledge that they cannot do what they once could do. 
• Enjoyed visiting the new Munch Museum: Munchmuseet in Oslo today with my husband. We visited the old Munch Museum at Tøyen when I first came to Oslo; I was only vaguely aware then of Edvard Munch's paintings. Over the years I've developed an appreciation of his works. The museum is worth visiting. 
• We ate dinner at Villa Paradiso (Italian restaurant) afterward. I thought how nice it was to do this together, go out on a Saturday afternoon, and I mentioned to him that we should do things like this more often. He agreed. He will be retiring soon, so it will be interesting to see what life will be like then when we have more time together. 
• Munch was preoccupied with sickness, death, mortality (his mother and sister died of tuberculosis when he was young). Illness in general, including mental illness. His was not a very happy life. But he was an amazing artist. The acknowledgment of our mortality. Some say it becomes more acute once one turns sixty. All I know is that I've been living with this knowledge since I was a teenager and watched my father experience heart attacks and strokes. His first heart attack occurred when I was twelve years old; he died when I was twenty-nine. Mortality became real to me as well once I read Gerard Manley Hopkins' poem 'Spring and Fall--to a young child' as a teenager. Perhaps I shouldn't have read it and internalized it. But I did, and it has stuck with me since then, especially the last two lines: 'It is the blight man was born for, it is Margaret you mourn for'. Do we mourn for ourselves, for the knowledge that our lives will eventually merge into the river of time that sweeps us all onward?
• Everyone ages. Some are more afraid of it than others. Some feel the need to change their faces and looks in order to stay young-looking. But it doesn't really work. It changes how you look even if it may make you look younger, and if you are a celebrity, everyone comments. If it changes how you look, does that change who you are? Do you really believe that you are younger? I don't judge others if they want to go down this road, but I think it is probably easier to just accept the gradual changes associated with aging. Look in the mirror. Or don't. My mother would have said 'just live your life. Get on with it'. She was right about so many things. 
• Does having faith make it easier to deal with one's mortality? Perhaps. I'd rather have faith than not have it. But no one knows what life is like after death, since no one has come back to tell us about it, except Christ. And one must accept his words about eternity, in faith. 
• Faith is defined as 'complete trust or confidence in someone or something'; also 'a strong belief in the doctrines of a religion, based on spiritual conviction rather than proof'. Our society requires proof, evidence, hard facts. Hard to come by where the afterlife is concerned. If someone we once knew and loved rose from the dead before our eyes, I think we would freak out completely. 
• I am now a gardener. That is my identity for at least six months of the year. I am happy in that knowledge. Working with the earth completes me. I don't need much else when I am in my garden. My soul is happy there. It's where I find God. That's all that matters to me. 
• I share my garden photos with others, and they tell me that I am a master gardener. It's nice to hear, but it's not why I share the photos. I want to share the beauty that my soul 'sees'. I hope that others find peace and serenity the way I have found it. That's why I wrote 'The Gifts of a Garden'. 
• I think about so many things when I am working in my garden. There is something about weeding that encourages reflection. I connect with my garden in a silent communion; we talk without the actual utterance of words, but they are uttered in my head. I've learned that if you treat living things well, they will shine. They will do their best to be the best versions of themselves that they can be. If it's true for flowers and plants, it's true for humans (and animals) too.
• As a country (the USA), we need less emphasis on what divides us, and more emphasis on what unites us. The media have had far too much to say about what divides us. But we can choose to listen to it, or to not listen to it. I choose the latter, most of the time. Many women I know have done the same. There is no point in becoming an angry person if that anger does not lead you in the right direction, toward something positive--changing yourself or the situations that infuriate you. If you are constantly angry at everything, your anger is not rational or logical. 
• The orange-haired man appears to be imploding. It had to happen at one point. He's an old man now and he looks it. His behavior borders on deranged. How he's kept up the facade for this long is anyone's guess. 
• As Tania Tetlow--the new president (first woman president) of Fordham University--states, 'we build a common good with ethics, empathy, and faith'. Not with amorality, hardness of heart, and lack of faith. Humans must have hope in order to go on. Our job as Christians is to appeal to that hope in every person we meet. 

And one more poem--Violets--because what she writes about is what matters

Who has not felt the fleeting sorrow for living things that are wiped out or destroyed in the name of progress (however necessary)? 

VIOLETS                  by Mary Oliver 

Down by the rumbling creek and the tall trees— where I went truant from school three days a week and therefore broke the record— 

there were violets as easy in their lives as anything you have ever seen or leaned down to intake the sweet breath of. 

Later, when the necessary houses were built they were gone, and who would give significance to their absence. 

Oh, violets, you did signify, and what shall take your place?

(from Devotions--Penguin Publishing Group) 

Another Mary Oliver poem--Almost a Conversation

Almost a Conversation            by Mary Oliver 

I have not really, not yet, talked with otter 

about his life. 

He has so many teeth, he has trouble 

with vowels. 

Wherefore our understanding 

is all body expression— 

he swims like the sleekest fish, 

he dives and exhales and lifts a trail of bubbles. 

Little by little he trusts my eyes 

and my curious body sitting on the shore. 

Sometimes he comes close. 

I admire his whiskers 

and his dark fur which I would rather die than wear. 

He has no words, still what he tells about his life 

is clear. 

He does not own a computer. 

He imagines the river will last forever. 

He does not envy the dry house I live in. 

He does not wonder who or what it is that I worship. 

He wonders, morning after morning, that the river 

is so cold and fresh and alive, and still 

I don’t jump in.

(from Devotions--Penguin Publishing Group) 

Mysteries, Yes--a beautiful poem by Mary Oliver

Mary Oliver is fast becoming one of my favorite poets. I love pretty much everything she writes. 

Mysteries, Yes

by Mary Oliver

Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous
 to be understood.

How grass can be nourishing in the
mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
in allegiance with gravity
while we ourselves dream of rising.
How two hands touch and the bonds will
never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the
scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.

Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.

Let me keep company always with those who say
“Look!” and laugh in astonishment,
and bow their heads.

The Gifts of a Garden is available on Amazon

My latest book, available on Amazon in three formats: e-book, hardcover, and paperback. 

The Gifts of a Garden: De Angelis, Paula Mary: 9798435180572: Amazon.com: Books

(front and back covers shown; design by Paloma Ayala) 

Late summer garden--photos

As promised, some recent photos of my garden (August and September). Autumn is approaching here in Oslo, and gardening season is winding down. I went to my garden today after having been traveling for almost two weeks. The summer asters are in full bloom, the climbing rose bushes have bloomed for the second time this summer, the coneflowers look beautiful (see photos), likewise (some of) the gladiolas (see photos). The giant sunflowers grew very tall while I was away; their height is impressive, at least eight feet (see photos). The other photos were taken during mid- to late-August, when gooseberries, red currants, black currants and raspberries were harvested. The Folva potatoes were harvested at the beginning of September. 

yellow coneflowers

coneflowers and gladioli

giant sunflowers

the (mostly) perennial garden

garden project for this year--assembling and painting a garden bench

a lot of zucchinis (as usual)--they're easy to grow

a good year for gooseberries

pumpkins 

a lot of potatoes (one type--Folva)

Just about sums it up (the work world, that is!)

 

Autumn is almost upon us (saying goodbye to the bumblebees)

The garden has an autumn feel to it these days. Outdoor temperatures are still around sixty-five degrees or so during the early to mid-afternoon, but once evening comes, it's chilly in the garden. And it gets dark much quicker now. I had my annual garden party for my friends/former colleagues this past Wednesday; it was a lovely sunny day but after 7 pm it got very chilly. We had a very nice time, and when they left, I cleaned up and headed for home (around 9:15 pm), at which point it was very dark in the garden. I kept expecting to meet the badger family that lives somewhere in the vicinity of the Gamle Aker church; I can always tell when they've visited my garden because they dig little holes in their hunt for insects and worms to eat. I don't find them bothersome, but they have been known to kill and eat chickens, which is exactly what happened recently to another allotment gardener who kept hens. We are not allowed to have hedgehogs in the garden for the same reason--badgers. 

Autumn is also the time of year when dead worker bumblebees are more visible, I assume because their lifespans are so short (about two to six weeks). That means many of them have been working beside me in the garden since late July/beginning of August. I have grown to love bumblebees; I call them the jumbo jets of the garden, as I've probably alluded to before. They are so bulky compared to honeybees and their buzz is louder. You hear them coming. There were many more bumblebees than honeybees this year, probably because the garden no longer has honeybee hives. Bumblebees are great little pollinators, and I love seeing my garden flowers covered with them. 

Last night, near my greenhouse, I came upon a rather disoriented bumblebee on the ground. She was clearly struggling to walk and fly. I picked her up carefully, put her in my palm and patted her gently. She clung to my fingers for dear life. I knew she was dying, so I found a pumpkin flower and placed her gently inside it and placed the flower under some larger leaves so she wouldn't be disturbed. I gave her a few drops of water and left for the evening. Today I came to the garden hoping against hope that she had only been tired and had flown away, but that was not to be. She had died. All part of the natural cycle of life and death, I know, but the death of this little creature tugged at my heart. I buried her in the pumpkin flower in the coral bell patch. I wish it wasn't so sad to lose them. Bumblebees work so hard collecting pollen that they bring back to the hive, they do their jobs, they don't live long, and they often die alone outside the hive. Not much of a life really. Perhaps that's why my heart goes out to them. I am always gentle with them, and I love watching them flit from flower to flower. Their little lives are precious to me, as are the lives of honeybees and most of the other insects in the garden. 

Who knew that having a garden would change me the way it has? I am sure other gardeners feel as I do. I don't want to kill insects for no reason. I don't want their needless deaths on my conscience. I know there are some readers who will ask me if I feel the same way about hornets and wasps. I don't know, honestly. I do know that I don't kill yellow jackets if I can help it. I swat them away but I don't kill them. They are irritating, but they are also little lives. They buzz around in search of food, and it's not their fault that nature outfitted them with a taste for barbecued meat. Trying to peacefully coexist with nature's creatures is the best policy in my opinion, although I know that it isn't always possible to do so. But we can do the best we can to not destroy their habitats, and in the case of bees and other insects, to create gardens that are inviting to them. Gardens that welcome their presence. 

Garden update--August 2022

June and July were busy months in the garden. I wasn't there as often as I would have liked due to vacation and family get-togethers (all enjoyable), but when I was there I was efficient. My project for this season was to rearrange/transplant many of the perennials from the main garden to other locations because they have grown so much in the past few years and need more space and increased air circulation. The hostas especially had grown quite big, but they were almost not visible because they were located at the back of the main garden behind some taller plants. Since I had to take up all of the strawberry plants this year to plant new ones, I decided to allocate some of the 'strawberry patch' space (two patches separated by the entrance path) to the hostas. When I took up the four hostas, they naturally split into three plants each, so that I was able to plant twelve new plants, six in each patch. They are doing quite well and are flowering. I also bought eighteen new strawberry plants and divided them between the two patches; I planted them below the hostas. They too are spreading out and doing well. I also transplanted an astilbe (false goat's beard) as well as a forsythia bush, and both are doing well. Online gardening sites don't recommend transplanting in the summertime, probably because temperatures are too warm. They suggest the autumn for such activities, but here in Oslo the summer temperatures have hovered around 70 degrees Fahrenheit. That is an optimal temperature to do transplanting; warm enough without being stifling hot for the plants. I water well before and after transplanting and for at least a week following transplanting. We've also had quite a bit of rain during early August, so that helped the plants to adapt and thrive in their new locations. 

The crane's bill plant had also become quite large and was starting to crowd the nearby Phlox and peony plants in the main garden. So I took it up and divided it in half, planting both halves along the street fence. The other crane's bill plant was transplanted from its location at the entrance garden arch to a place further along the path fence. All of them are doing well. 

I bought two new Phlox plants, a new astilbe, and a new coral bell plant--all perennials--and filled in the empty spaces with them. I really like Phlox plants; they come in many colors and have a lovely mild fragrance that you can smell when you get near them. I divided the summer aster plant in two and planted both in the main garden where the hostas used to be. One of them is flowering and the other is on the verge of doing so. 

Of six pumpkin plants, three have produced pumpkins of a good size. A fourth plant has just started to grow a pumpkin, but the growing season is winding down here, so I'm not sure how big this pumpkin will be. It was a banner year for raspberries, gooseberries, black currants and red currants. Ditto for the zucchini plants--how many zucchinis they produce--it's amazing! The cucumber plants have given us some nice-sized cucumbers, and the tomato plants are loaded with ripening tomatoes. My string bean plants did not do very well and I'm not sure why. Likewise my gladiolas; some have flowered, most have not. Those that have bloomed have 'faded-looking' flowers, white at the edges. Strange. I've never seen that before. I googled it and the online info said that the corms could be too old. Or that thrips may be a problem (but I haven't seen any sign of these bugs). My blackberry bush is not productive either, but it doesn't appear to be suffering from any infestation. Only one of my two American blueberry bushes produced berries, which I don't understand and have to read more about. The Norwegian blueberry bushes both produced berries. Both yellow coneflower plants are big and beautiful; I love them. The rhododendron bush has also grown larger this year; it's been more or less the same size since we rescued and planted it in the garden back in 2016. The magnolia tree is starting to grow taller. But the true beauty in the garden this year was my wisteria--it is growing and expanding like crazy, and flowered early on. I cut it back a few weeks ago and it still keeps on keeping on. My pride and joy. 

I have grown very fond of ground cover vegetation--pachysandra and hostas, for example. Pachysandra grows so well in my garden and is a hardy plant. It's also lovely to look at. Hostas likewise. The bumblebees love the hosta flowers, as do the honeybees. There were a lot of bumblebees in the garden this year and that was good to see. Some honeybees as well, but not as many as in previous years since the hives were removed from the garden. The bumblebees do a great job of pollinating plants, so there's no worries there. 

My final project for this gardening season was to assemble and paint a chemically-impregnated pine wood bench that I bought from an online garden store. I painted it a forest green color and am happy with the results. Both the impregnation and the paint are designed to withstand all sorts of weather conditions, so I'm hoping that bears out. August is nearly at an end, so it's just to enjoy the rest of it, which I plan to do now that most of the heavy garden work is done. Put my feet up and read a book!

Gardening season is winding down. Of course there will be a lot to do in the garden to prep it for the winter months, so I won't be out of work during the autumn months. I've cut down the old raspberry canes already because for some reason the new cane growth for each plant has been vigorous this year. I'm not the only one who has commented on that. 

The beauty of gardening is that from one year to the next there is always something new and different to tackle, understand, accept, and work around. There's never a dull moment in the garden. There's always work to do, and when you sit down to relax, the sparrows fluttering around and spraying water here and there in the birdbath will entertain you, as will the jumbo jets of the garden (my pet name for bumblebees). Watching them land on and take off from flowers will make you smile. If I am in a bad mood before I enter my garden, I leave with a better mood, a grateful heart, and a smile on my face. Nature has a way of centering me and making me realize what is important here in this life. And what is important is not what society says is important, that is for certain. 

I'll post some photos of my garden in my next post. 

Do as I say, not as I do

Maybe I'm paying way too much attention to the analyses of the current political situation in the USA. It seems to me that no matter what the orange-haired man says or does, it has null effect on his supporters, who believe just about everything he says and continue to defend him. How is that possible? I wish someone would give me an answer, stat. In the meantime, he continues on his merry way, doing what he does best--double-talking and behaving exactly as he wants. But the rest of us should just do as he says, because of course he knows what's best for the country. Anyone who disagrees with him is out to get him. 

My closest friends and I attended Catholic grammar and high schools. We were taught that hard work pays off, that doing your best leads to a job well-done and satisfaction all around. We learned to tell the truth, that lying was bad and counterproductive, likewise cheating on exams. We learned that honesty was the best policy and that having personal integrity was important. We were taught to honor our parents and older people generally. We learned to respect authority. We were taught not to pick fights, and bullying was frowned upon. Our parents told us to try and make peace with the bullies, and if that didn't work, to ignore them. It usually worked out.

Over a long lifetime, I've witnessed many different kinds of behavior, both good and bad. My work experiences during the past forty years have shown me that doing your best does lead to personal satisfaction for a job well-done, but it is no guarantee that management will be satisfied. Management plays by its own rules. Giving your all is not necessary (or even desired) in order to get noticed or promoted; cutting your efforts to fifty percent can guarantee the same results as one hundred percent effort (I have tried this once or twice and it's true). Why is that? The answer is politics. Who you know is more important than what you know or how much effort you put into something. That is what Catholic schools and parents should have taught us, but didn't. Because they wanted us to make a difference in the world. I understand that. Take cheating on exams, for example. Cheating is anathema to those of us who grew up under Catholic educators, but in the modern world, many students would tell you there is nothing wrong with cheating on an exam in order to get good grades. Because good grades will give you leverage. Good grades will guarantee that someone will check off the box 'does well in school' and that opens doors for the cheaters down the road. But in the end, getting into some ivy league colleges (if that's your thing) also comes down to how much money daddy and mommy donated to the university of choice. Something else we weren't taught in school. Think of some of the recent college scandals where celebrity parents tried to buy off universities and individuals so their children could get into good schools. Thankfully they went to prison (albeit short prison sentences) for their unlawful behavior, but what kind of example does this set for their children? I'd wager that the only thing that bothers some of these parents is that they got caught. Nothing else. Because again, who you know and what college you went to trumps most everything else. 

Why do I bring these issues up now? Because it appalls me that we as a nation are going down the road toward re-electing a man whose amorality knows no bounds. It scares me to think that the potential end of democracy as we know it lies in the hands of a reality television persona and his family. It appalls me that everything in the world comes down to greed and grifting. Lying and dissembling are rampant--in politics, in the media, in churches, in schools. We don't react as a society anymore to bad behavior. We accept it almost apathetically as long as it doesn't impact us personally. But when we don't stand up to politicians like Trump and his cronies, we tell our children that it's ok to behave like he does. When we don't stand up for what's right, for how we were taught, we hand over power to the bullies. The entire GOP can't manage to find their collective balls in order to stand up to him. It's a sad commentary on what our society has come to, how low we have fallen. It's even sadder when the Catholic church defends and promotes a man like Trump, a man that fifty years ago they would have vilified. The priests preach from the pulpit about the importance of voting for a man who presents himself as anti-abortion. Whether or not he is against lying, cheating, grifting, and bullying is unimportant to his constituents and supporters. Anti-abortion trumps all, and Trump trumps everything and everyone. How low we have sunk.