It’s one of those cool, damp, dreary days that I might find delightful, if I was walking on the Cornwall coast.
Botallack Mines, Cornwall
However, when I am in my back yard, I only get inspired to return to the house and make a cup of tea. The garden is beautiful but overgrown. Any motivation to perform some maintenance is diminished by the combination of overcast sky, drizzle, and wind. Even so, I would be completely remiss, if I did not at least go outside to see if there were any olives ready to be harvested.
Olive tree
It has been nearly three weeks since I salted some ripe olives, and they are curing nicely.
Salt-cured olives
Although most of the olives on the tree are still too green, I was pleased to see that the guavas are falling. This was an unexpected surprise. I collected a good load of them, but left most of the smaller ones on the ground for now. Picking them up is just one more task to do on a sunnier day. In the meantime, there are some ants crawling about, trying to figure out if there is a meal here that is worth their effort.
Perhaps if I woke up each morning to a view of Carbis Bay in Cornwall, I would not be looking for ways to increase the joy in my life. Who knows? Although it is very small, I do have a beautiful backyard garden. All of the labor I put into maintaining it is more than worth it. Good things may occasionally come our way, but more often than not they result from the effort we expend and the choices we make. And just maybe, sometimes we face roadblocks, only because we don’t realize we can take them down.
Backyard Garden
Someone I know has struggled most of her life with anger management. We have all run across one of those people, who allows the pressure to build inside until he or she has an outburst. The recipient of the resulting tirade becomes doubly despised: first, for holding unsavory views or having irritating personality traits, and secondly, for possessing the uncanny and oddly self-destructive ability to deliberately “push the buttons” of the explosive acquaintance or relative.
Everyone experiences anger and needs to release it from time to time. I may have learned a little about how to express it in a temperate way. However, I have had more success with minimizing it, which is more effective than trying to rein it in. Here is a list of 10 things I do.
Every day, at least once, I count my blessings. The older I get, the more often I do this.
Monday through Friday I start my day reading an inspirational message from a Christian friend who lives in Tennessee. His daily missives include prayers, trivia, inspiring quotes, humor, and details of his life. I always discover a bit of wisdom or something that makes me laugh. There are books and online sources that provide daily inspirational readings.
Five years ago, I turned off the television. The news media peddles anger and fear. Find truth by believing what you see in the world with your own eyes. I can stream entertainment, but a good book, a long walk, or meeting with friends is more rewarding. Splurge now and again and go to the theater.
Lincoln Center, New York City
I smile. When was a young woman, I often wore an angry or unhappy mask. Not anymore. Strangers sense my good mood and the unexpected payback enriches me more than I deserve.
I try to look my best whenever I leave the house, even if it is just for a 15-minute walk in the neighborhood. You might be surprised at how many people notice and approach me to say so. This happens in parks, parking lots, grocery stores, airports, and on city streets.
Every morning I do 10 minutes of strenuous exercise. It’s difficult, but I feel great for the rest of the day.
If I’m home for a meal, I always sit at the dining room table and eat off of pretty dishes. Most evenings, I dine by candlelight. Every day I have fresh fruit and vegetables and a little dark chocolate.
Candlelight
At least once a week, I have a lunch date with a friend. My friendships are a treasure.
I treat strangers kindly. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I generally receive more from this than anything I give.
My mature years allow me to be forthright with positive thoughts or feelings. I like to tell the person I am with how much he or she has impressed me.
The more I clear out bad feelings, the more room I have for good ones. A balance in emotions is inevitable, but anger does not need to be in the equation. My aim is to find joy. One of the blessings of joy is that it is infectious.
The opposite of joy is sorrow. As joy increases, so may sorrow. But sorrow is not destructive. Someone’s sorrow has no power to hurt another human being. It’s one of life’s paradoxes that having known sorrow, we may more fully experience the moments of joy.
Here in my garden are symbols of the past, the future, and the way forward. We may be uncertain, but the path is not. The challenge is to find it, then to take the first step.
Our fear is no greater and our courage is no less than that of those who came before us.
It’s raining in California. Perhaps we need it, but if I had a say there would be a mix of warm sun and scattered layers of bright white clouds, with a cool breeze. My garden requires care, to check the rapid spring growth of weeds and new shoots on trees and shrubs. Even so, there is beauty in the wildness. Gradually, I will bring it to a more managed state.
The sun is shining in London. If I could, I would walk in Green Park. The old trees stand in silent witness to the generations that preceded us and endured. The daffodils display a legacy of renewal. Quiet and stillness belong here, under the sun, under the clouds, swept by the cool breeze.
Widecombe-in-the-Moor in Devon, England, is a village of fewer than 200 households in the middle of Dartmoor, which has been protected by National Park status since 1951. Many of the hedgerows and stone walls that divide the landscape date back hundreds of years. The walls have become natural rock gardens, covered with stonecrop, navelwort, maiden-hair ferns, and lichens.
“The edge of the gentle downward slope was anchored at its base by a giant yew tree. From there the lane gradually rose again for about 30 yards. Another low, decaying stone wall adjoined a weathered wooden fence, blocking the entrance to the courtyard of a two-story stone cottage set back against rolling green hills. A decrepit stone barn stood to the east, and an overgrown garden was to the west. Aaron dismounted his horse and opened the wide, slatted gate. Its large rusted hinges were generously greased. Despite a high-pitched scraping sound, it swung open with ease.”
Roxane Gilbert 