My New Obsession, aka My New Camera

One of my goals when I started this blog was to become a better photographer. For years I have been using a small Canon Powershot camera but I've longed for a better camera. I know nothing about cameras so I relied on the salesperson to educate me. My husband understands more about them, so with their help, I chose a Sony a6000. It's a mirrorless camera (which I am embarrassed to admit I had never heard about). It is amazing. Oh boy, do I have lots to learn!

I have never taken a photography class (aperture? exposure compensation? ISO?) so I started watching online tutorials for this specific camera and have already learned so much. I am obsessed with it. I can't get enough. Luckily my garden is in that phase where everything is growing and the upkeep is minimal so I have extra time to play with my new toy.

These are unedited photos I took today. The one of the bee and the borage shows the bees wing without it being a blur! That would never have been possible with my old camera.

Bessie May is my incredible labrador. Her eyes are orange. Her heart is gold.

Being a novice means being forgiven if the composition or exposure are not perfect. The camera is capable of amazing photos, now the photographer must continue to practice, so goodbye for now. I'm off to experiment with ISO.

Room to Grow

We all need room to grow. 

Without it we cannot reach our true potential. Like the tomato between the posts and the tomatillo squished in the iron bench, people need space, to be left unhindered by others, in order to thrive. 

Sure, we need guidance and support, they are critical.

But the support must be a foundation without being confining. That is the key to raising healthy vegetables and healthy children.

I started my vegetable garden when my children became adults as a way of coping with the empty nest situation. Soon after came this blog. Learning to live a life which is not centered around my children is a challenging process. And truthfully it starts when the children are around 4 years old. Oh boy, I remember the, "I do it myself!" moments when I was forced to take a deep breath and remain patient while watching my child struggle with shoes, or a jacket, or whatever.

My son is a private person, a very competent person who is completely capable, and I trust his judgement without reservation. He is successful professionally and socially. He is an over achiever, calm, determined, amazing. We have a good relationship and I am deeply thankful for that. I know it is a precious thing to be close to your twently-something son as sons tend to pull strongly away from their parents at this stage. That is what we raised them to do, to become independent, but in the process we hope to stay relevant and connected.

I have learned to follow his lead when it comes to finding the right balance with trying to connect with my son. He is private, I want to know everything. That combination could be in issue. 

I don't press, I give him room, at least I try. And it's working. He is growing rapidly into the man of my dreams, a mother's dream come true.

My Heart is Filled with Sunshine

My daughter came to visit me in the garden yesterday. If not in person, at least she appeared in my heart. Funny how something as simple as a child's Valentine can fill a mom's heart to the point of bursting. 

Missing her is a constant reminder of how lucky I am to have the special bond I'd always dreamed of having with a daughter. We are kindred souls. She is my Sunshine, a nickname that describes her perfectly. She's living in another city, creating a fabulous life and career near the beach, and I miss her. 

My garden is one way I am coping with my kids growing up. I find it's best to keep busy.

I keep a stack of envelopes handy in the garden to store seeds I harvest. 

These are old envelopes which were in a desk drawer for years before making their way to the garden. Yesterday when I was collecting lettuce seeds I came across a sealed envelope in the stack. Holding it up to the light I could see it held a heart. 

It turns out there were a few sealed envelopes which I couldn't wait to tear open. 

And that's when my heart suddenly overflowed with love for that little girly girl/tomboy who made these Valentines. Memories came flooding back of her with her bright smile, baseball cap turned backward, hair hanging loose because she had no desire for hair clips of any kind. 

Creative, loving, industrious, cool, a true friend, and there she is, represented in a child's handmade Valentines.

What a treat it was to find these, they made my day. I'll keep them in my garden box.

They will bring Sunshine to my garden even on a cloudy day, at least in my heart.

Unwinding in the Garden with the Birds and My Pal

Traffic. Rude drivers. Slow drivers. Pot holes. Did I say traffic? Living in the Los Angeles area can take its toll especially when your job entails driving around all day. I'm a patient person, except around 4 pm when driving home through LA traffic. I don't go all road rage and honk (unless it's necessary). I don't yell (usually). I definitely don't flip people off (I'm not crazy). Luckily I have my garden and my dog to help me unwind.

When I get home, my dog has a plan. It's ball time. Bessie is my dog, my friend and enthusiastic ball catcher.

Unfortunately she has a knee problem so she can't play ball the way she would like...leaping and catching the ball high in the air is her favorite thing in the world. Trying to throw the ball lower so she won't jump is my tactic but the problem is, she has only one speed. She goes all out as fast as she can and if she misses the ball she scrambles after it, often skidding sideways. Not great for her knees either, so ball time is short. And her smile says it all. A little catch is better than no catch.

Only after I have satisfied her ball obsession can I sit and relax. Ten minutes sitting in the shade listening to the birds and looking at the garden is all I need to let go of that traffic stress. I can just feel it melt away. Managing my stress is something I take seriously. And reconnecting with nature is my quick fix.

Who needs fancy candles and perfumes when you have roses, gardenias and plumeria in the garden? Often I will pick a flower and just sit and sniff it.

Aroma therapy in its simplest form.

Breathe in the fragrance, breathe out the stress. Works for me.

My Hat is Not as Ugly as SKIN CANCER

Ever have one of those moments when you just want to smack someone? And I mean with a backhand, not with a kiss. Thankfully I have a good dose of self-control in my character. But the expression on my face probably said it all.

The other day I was at the nursery, one of my favorite places. There I feel inspired and happy surrounded by all those colorful flowers. As usually is the case when I go to the nursery, I was wearing gardening clothes, definitely not looking fashionable. Who needs fashionable when you are spreading compost, right? Now my gardening attire is all about function. And the hat is about sun protection. Not cute, but neither is skin cancer.

So there I am, waiting in line to buy my marigolds, and an elderly man approaches me and says, "Mind if I make an observation?" In my mind I am thinking, "Only if it's something uplifting because my mood is light and I want it to stay that way." But seriously, could I say no? Not really, that would be impolite which I am not.

Then this man, who by the way is wearing a 1970's pimp hat made of two tone denim, makes the following statement. "I find that when women go shopping in the mall they dress up. They wear makeup and try to look nice. But at the nursery you all wear these weird hats. Why do you wear such ugly hats?"

That's when the self-control kicked in to prevent that backhand to the face. Really? Are we women here for your visual pleasure? You can't figure that one out on your own, buddy? Are you aware we live in southern California and have you noticed that sun? Have you heard of skin cancer? And do you really think that denim pimp hat is cute??

My response was quick. "We wear hats for sun protection. And we're not here to impress anyone." The expression on my face must have been one of shock, confusion, disgust, dismissal.

My eyes met another woman, similarly adorned with wide brimmed hat. Overhearing our little chat, she looked at me and him, and shook her head. He saw her reaction and seemed confused we weren't amused.

It was one of those times I should have let down my polite veneer and said what was on my mind. I left there and thought of the twenty things I should have said.

My hat is staying firmly on my head, regardless of how I look in it. My goal is to prevent skin cancer. I know a thing or two about it, and it's not pretty.

My childhood was spent soaking up the sun. Think desert living, beach camping in Mexico, sports fishing on the ocean, water skiing, and enough sunbathing to bake my skin to that deep golden tan that was so popular in the 80's.

My mother lost part of her nose to skin cancer.

My dad now has metastatic squamous cell carcinoma. Also known as skin cancer. His started on his temple. Now he has a 3 inch square of skin transferred from his thigh onto his head where the cancer was removed. That process took 2 surgeries and 3 months of open wounds, dressing changes, doctor visits, worry.

Then the cancer spread to lymph nodes in his neck. Another surgery resulting in nerve damage and pain.

Then came 7 weeks of intense high dose radiation. 35 visits with his head strapped to a table while beams tried to undo the sun damage and prevent this beast from spreading. Now he can't taste his food. Eating is hard when everything tastes like cardboard.

People, skin cancer is no joke. Being tan may look nice, but cancer is not pretty. Wrinkles aren't pretty either and we all know sun damage leads to wrinkles. But wrinkles aren't life threatening. Cancer is.

So now, ask me why I wear a funny garden hat to the nursery.

Solitude Isn't Lonely Here

In my garden I am alone with my thoughts, but my thoughts are filled with people I love. So a lonely place, it is not. There is comfort in the solitude, surrounded by dear ones.

My mother is in the roses, butterflies and so much more. Truth is, she is woven throughout my soul. Tomatoes are my father's favorite, he can't wait until the harvest begins. My friend, Anne, is in the delphinium and larkspur. My grandmother is all around too. The apricots and strawberries take me back to my childhood, back to her kitchen.

Today I looked up and saw that our volunteer sunflower bloomed and it was leaning against the basketball hoop with the wind chime.

This is my little family, hanging out together with me in the garden.

The wind chimes remind me of my husband.  He is a music man; saxophone magician, composer and music historian/educator.  Lately he has been practicing his sax with our windows open. How lucky am I to listen to his beautiful sound while in the garden!

My son is an athlete, and although basketball is not his favorite, the hoop is his. His collection of sports equipment is vast. Think baseball, roller hockey, surfing, football, skateboards, bikes, etc.  Sports chiseled him, both his body and his character. He is strong, determined, motivated, resilient.

My daughter, the flower. She is sunshine personified. Happy, warm, welcoming, brilliant in every way. She sings and dances through life, all the while leading the way. A bright light in the world, she is.

I'm a lucky one.

Nest of Good Karma

Funny how timing is so important. One small occurrence, if timed properly, can be just the nudge you need to move forward. For quite some time I have been pondering this blog, too unsure to begin. And I mean it's been many months that I have waited, feeling insecure about it. I hadn't shared my idea of using a picture of an empty nest as my background, or really any details about the direction of this blog. I wanted to get it together first. My idea of using a picture of an empty nest goes way back and it was one of the details that was holding me back.

 I didn't have a picture of a nest.

I thought I might be able to photoshop one of my old photos of a hummingbird nest, but none was really clear. I have been looking in our lower trees and shrubs for months but no pretty little nest was found. I thought maybe I could paint a picture of a nest, but since my painting skills are more imagined than real, that seemed like an idea which was better left as a concept.

So after months of procrastinating I wrote a few draft posts and started creating the blog. Determined to get the blog started, thoughts of empty nest pictures were driving me to distraction. And then one day I came home and found this amazing nest on my window sill, right next to the front door.

Lovely little nest I placed on the ground for photos.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was this lovely little nest, so beautiful and perfect. What care had been taken to build a home both sturdy and soft. (Isn't that what we all hope for in a home?)

 I couldn't wrap my head around it. How did it get there? And how amazing is this timing?

It turns out, my husband found it on the curb. This cozy little nest had fallen from a large tree in our yard near the street. It was sitting face up apparently undamaged. He said he thought about leaving it there but he felt it would be of no use to the birds on the curb and he couldn't reach even the lowest branches. Wanting to show it to me he left it on the window sill.  

It was the nudge I needed. The timing was just right. Looks like my little blog has good karma.

Transitions

Andie's garden

Welcome to my blog! This blog has been on my mind for a long time, but I hesitated to start. I was waiting because I wanted to learn more about blogging. I was waiting until I learned to be a better photographer, a better writer with a cleaner backyard. Since those things aren't going to spontaneously happen anytime soon, I finally decided to just start. After all, I'm only going to learn more about blogging, photography and writing if I begin. So here we go...

This picture of my backyard garden tells the story of a life in transition. Notice the basketball hoop turned backwards? Strange place for a hoop, right? A friend asked, "Won't our basketball game compromise the veggies?" He has a point. Well, it once stood next to our above ground pool, poised and ready for children to play while swimming. The pool was removed which made room for our garden, and now the hoop holds a wind chime.

You see, the pool was no longer used because my children have grown into young adults, ready to fly on their own. To say I am proud of them is just the beginning. They are my finest joy. This quote pretty much sums it up. It's one of my favorites:

"Making the decision to have a child - it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body."
-Elizabeth Stone

Exactly.

And now our children are doing what we raised them to do - fly. And it astounds me to see them as they start their professional careers and pull away. Such confidence and competence they possess. It fills my heart to know they are ready and thriving.

For me, it means transitioning into a new phase of life which means starting new projects to keep busy. And so began my organic vegetable garden.

Nothing can prepare a person for parenthood, or for letting go, but I am optimistic about what lies ahead. My intention is to branch out and try new things, find inspiration, be inspiring.  

So now I'm a blogger?? I guess so.

Hopefully this blog will be a creative outlet and an incentive for me to take some photography and computer classes. Several friends are interested in starting gardens so I see this blog as place for me to share my gardening ideas. Maybe they will be inspired. Certainly I am no Master Gardener. I am a novice who is not afraid to jump in and figure it out.   

I have always been a person who needs a project. Without a project I am lost. It runs in the family. Ask my brother, he is always making something. Tents, backpacks, you name it. He should write his own how-to blog. We got it from our parents, the true do-it-yourself masters. Too bad blogs weren't around when they were using power tools. On second thought, maybe it's a good thing. My dad's language can be colorful. Maybe my brother should finish that book of infamous Dad quotes before he starts his blog. And maybe I can find someone to move that basketball hoop.