Did you catch my post earlier this month about ferns? I didn’t have to wait for the summer heat to test me or the fern.
This past Sunday I had a minor freak-out about my writing goal—finishing the first draft of FORTITUDE—while I’m in my seventh month of waiting to hear back from publishers about CORRODED.
First draft goals can be hair-pulling. Waiting to hear back from the publishing industry, also nerve-racking. The two together equals fighting for sanity on at least a weekly basis.
While venting my concerns to MeLeesea Swann via chat room, she gave me the little “you can do it” and “don’t stress the numbers” and “it will happen” friendly feedback that can be easy to dismiss during epic stress moments. But then she hit me with something that made me laugh so loud I scared my kids.
DON’T LET YOUR FORTITUDE GET CORRODED.
Personalized prospective was all I needed. I shared the quote with family and our other writing friends. I even printed out copies of it on purple paper and hung them up around the house to remind me.
Then Monday morning happened.
I went outside to finish up some weeding. When I passed my little fern on the water oak, it looked like this:
ARGH! My little plant of hope, though surrounded in soft, green moss was withering away. If the fern couldn’t make it, then I might be able to keep my goals. Then I thought of fortitude being corroded and grabbed the hose. I soaked that thing and went on with my other yard work.
An hour later, no change.
Two hours, nothing.
Three hours, it looked slightly better.
About five hours later, it was back to this.
What can you do to keep your dreams alive? Be sure to involve a support system.
The South has awesome oak trees. Amid the branches you can often see moss, ferns, and other creeping plants growing. Government Street in Mobile, AL is lined with fabulous live oaks—their trunks and main branches support leafy green ferns and mosses. (Mental note: take picture next time I’m downtown.)
The past two years, one of the water oaks in our backyard has been home to a struggling fern of its own. We have plenty of moss/other fuzzy stuff on the different trees.
But, for some reason, the fern is magical to me. Maybe because it conjures images of faerie laden forests or a tropical getaway. Or the fact that the odds of a plant growing out of rough, tree bark is inspiring. If the fern can cling to life, then I can stick with my goals, right?
Whatever the meaning, I’ve made a goal of supporting the fern. Hopefully the plant, and my goals, will flourish when the summer heat arrives.
Just last month I finally ate at a local seafood restaurant. I’m still not 100% certain of the safety of the gulf, but next month I’ll take my family to the beach–and let them play below the water line in the sand–for the first time in two years.
Spring is great—for the most part.
I dread what spring means—summer is coming. During spring, I typically mope around mourning the loss of whatever tidbit of winter we were blessed to have been given over the past few months. Autumn, on the other hand, is a rebirth. Returning to nature after being trapped inside because the mosquitoes and humidity are too much to bear—especially when children are in your care.
But this month I’ve been focusing on the event of spring itself—not the dreaded summer lurking around the next calendar pages. We’ve been doing tons of outdoor activities from gardening to nature hikes to enjoy the moderate temperatures and the flowering abundance.
I put the title in quotes because I’m mentally signing that song. Mentally, so as not to create noise pollution.
Wouldn’t it be nice to get a whole new wardrobe every month? To pass on the discarded clothes to others and refill the drawers and hanging spaces in your room with a complete new assortment of adorable, and sometimes even trendy, outfits.
Such is the life of Princess S. She turns four months this week and each month I have to bump her wardrobe up to the next size. At birth she wore (filled out in most cases) 0-3 and 3 month clothing. At one month she was wearing 3-6 months. At two months it was 6 months. At three months she wore 6-9 months. Now, she’s on to 9 and even some 12 months (depending on the cut- she has a long torso).
Both new and used clothes keep coming our way; thanks to generous family members and friends and even my son’s bus driver (not to mention my impulse buying of things so sweet and cheap I couldn’t pass up over the years) we more or less have her first year of clothes taken care of. I always thought I’d use gender neutral clothes with a girl, like I did with my boys, but it’s just too much fun playing dress-up. I’m loving purple tones more than ever. So whenever I do need to buy something to fill-in the gaps I gravitate toward purple and lavender and wisteria…
On a side note, the goldfinches are arriving! My favorite time of the year to bird watch in the yard. The goldfinches usually stop here mid-late January through March. Long enough for them to start looking gorgeous in their summer plumage before they head back north. But it’s a good thing they don’t stay around all year- I couldn’t afford to feed them. Thistle seed is pricey. “Gold” seed for the goldfinches. And when you get 60-100 goldies eating from your feeders for a month (it takes a few weeks for the numbers to max out and some start leave earlier) the seed bill adds up quickly! But it’s worth the (short term) expense to watch them change and have them here for the Great Backyard Bird Count. I can always count on them for some impressive numbers (to my standards) on my daily counts. http://www.birdsource.org/gbbc/