Is it just me, or do the daffodils cast their gaze on the Awake one?

This year, I have embarked upon some pretty ambitious garden efforts. In addition to constructing the raised planter beds I posted photos of a while ago, I have prepared some additional big in-ground beds for vegetables and flowers. Today I planted carrots, beets, swiss chard, lettuce, chives, and some more onions. Peas are coming up, and radishes are poking up. I also finished the landscaping of the deck in front (picture soon in another post) and finally got some foundation planting shrubs in yesterday along the back wall outside the kitchen door.

There are rewards - not only when the harvest and kitchen adventure occurs, but each small accomplishment - the preparation of the beds, sowing the seeds or getting the transplants into the soil, seeing seedlings emerge, and even just getting everything watered on a given day. There also seems to be an abundance of stuff that survived the previous owners and emerged this spring in odd places - they seem to telegraph encouragement.


Last time I got carried away with a vegetable garden - in California.

The watering is the greatest burden after the initial labor of preparation. Until the seeds germinate and develop significant roots, or seedling transplants become established, twice a day is the drill, with no opportunity to get away. This troubles me, but that is the commitment I have made this year. Hopefully, when things get rolling I can mulch the hell out of everything and visit the ranch in Wyoming for a weekend.

Today, as I moved from one project to another in the garden, I suddenly thought of my mother, who loved having a garden. I had that sort of sense of presence, that she might be in the vicinity somehow. It occured to me that she probably occasionally shared my feeling of having overdone it - taken on too much responsibility for too much garden, and wondered what she was thinking to undertake such a commitment that would consume so much time and energy. And she had me and my siblings, and our father to look after...

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D'oh!

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Is this part of the explanation of Buddhist equanimity?

“The great source of both misery and disorders of human life seems to arise from over-rating the difference between one permanent situation and another. Some of those situations may no doubt deserve to be prefered to others but none of them can deserve to be pursued with that passionate ardor which drives us to violate the rules either of prudence or of justice, or to corrupt the future tranquility of our minds either by shame from the remembrance of our own folly or by remorse from the horror of our own injustice.”

Adam Smith

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At the end of last week I had one of those days that seemed to offer more than the usual number of things to appreciate. Of course, attitude is everything, and just the ability to awake and experience any mindful day on the planet should be cause for celebration, no matter what the content - but some days work better than others.


The day began with fresh-brewed coffee and perfect toast.


Returning to my car after an errand, I found this rock on the pavement and took it home for my garden.

Hmm. Seems I am unduly influenced by small things, both good and bad. Maybe I need some greater influences in my life.

I try to get out to experience the arts in town whenever I can. I keep hoping that somehow I will find the inspiration and opportunity to be more than a passive consumer of the creative efforts of others.



In some cases, like the frequent music recitals and concerts, there isn't much hope for me to become a contributor, as the time to develop and refine the required skills has passed. On the other hand, my ability to paint seems to have been demonstrated, and I only need to do more of it to develop. There is an artist in town I have long admired who has offered to give me instruction to develop my style and technique, so I will be spending some time with that next month.


Kirsten Savage, who will try to assist me with my painting development.

Tonight, I went to the University for a lecture by Joel Cohen, a writer for The Simpsons. He was born and raised in Canada, where he spent six or so years obtaining a business graduate degree. He wrote a bit, without any outlet for that interest, and eventually moved to Los Angeles where he had an administrative job for a cable network. By chance, he met and became friends with a 2nd tier sitcom actress, who introduced him to her production company. He was hired to write for her show, which was soon cancelled. Through a connection with the failed sitcom, he was introduced to the Simpson's writing team, which hired him as one of the twenty staff writers.

Listening to him describe the creative process surrounding the writing and production of the 19-year old series made me feel that familiar longing to be associated with something creative that involves working with bright, capable people, where work is fun and something worthwhile results. As unlikely as landing such a writer's gig is (there are probably thousands of talented, disciplined comedy writer wannabes in LA for a handful of opportunities), this guy's intention to be a writer seems to have more or less effortlessly taken him to the most desirable spot for him in the universe, professionally.

Maybe there is a lesson in that.

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We saw a wonderful film tonight - Across the Universe, Directed by Julie Taymore, who also directed the imaginitive Frida. As often happens when I see a film so well crafted and rewarding, I wish I was involved in a creative endeavor like this in some capacity. My frustration in this case is all the more poignant after discovering that Ms. Taymore and I were born the same year.

Here is just one scene - there are around thirty other Beatles songs produced with equal visual and musical bravado...

Highly recommended.

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I really thought March would be the last month we would see snow, but just a few days ago, two weeks into April I woke up to another white morning. Thankfully, the slushy mess was gone by the next day, and I have been able to resume the garden preparation.


The front lawn has a bunch of lovely small blue flowers growing out of it - no idea what they are, but they are among the earliest harbingers of spring finally taking off. Look closely and you can see Mdog peering out the front door.

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Last night I did something I rarely do anymore. As I stretched out on the couch, I channel surfed for an hour or so around real-time broadcast and cable TV. Usually these days, we only watch a few programs, and always from recorded episodes that allow us to excise every moment of crass advertising, exploitive local station news teasers, and other loathsome assaults on the senses and drainers of vitality. Exposure to unfiltered American television content and advertising these days does not provide a very life-affirming experience, it seems.

This morning I ran across a Buddhist quote that semed relevant to my wasted vewing time last night...

In the same way that someone in the midst of a rough crowd guards a wound with great care, so in the midst of bad company should one always guard the wound that is the mind.

-Shantideva

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