Maria was out walking in the woods yesterday, she says she lost her sox while walking (I’m suspicious) but she did come home with some wild African Violets, an incredibly delicate, beautiful and graceful wild flower.
They ended up in the Windowsill Gallery, and I got my camera on them first thing in the morning. Maria says she’s returning to the woods today to reclaim her socks if they aren’t a nest by now.
I love writing this post.
In the Summer, when my raised garden beds are at their most productive and beautiful, I do something I call a “flower riot,” I take flowers to people in need and people I know and drop them off.
I’ve learned that flowers are powerful and meaningful to many people, and my “weekly flower riots – people I know, some farm workers up the road, people I love, people who work hard who deserve acknowledgment are beautiful and selfish – make the recipients happy, and they make me very happy.
Doing good is the best way to feel good and stay grounded.
Today, a rainy morning when we are still in winter and the dark days – we have had cold days for some time and lots of damage from rain – and as I recovered from my cannabis overdose, I decided to make me and the people who work hard that I know and respect and make people happy and went to the Cambridge Flower Shop.
I bought some inexpensive, beautiful irises (and roses for Maria) and spent the afternoon delivering them. I couldn’t afford bull bouquets, but it didn’t matter. People love flowers, especially in February.
I can’t quite describe how good that felt. I’ve been smiling all day. It’s healthier than any medicine.
I highly recommend this for people who get unnerved or frightened by the news or any asshole politicians.
First, I went to the Cambridge Vet and brought some flowers to Manya, the new receptionist at the Cambridge Vet. Manya looked harried by her new job and the brand-new computer system that was making everyone there a little crazy.
She went home sick before I got to take her photo. The flowers were to celebrate her new job. The people in the vet’s office are family to us.
I’m a massive fan of the Cambridge Valley Vet, Dr. Fariello, and the excellent techs and assistants who work there.
They have always been good to us and our animals through good and evil and helped me navigate some sadness and loss.
So I brought Manya some irises (her favorite flower, as it turned out) and a box of chocolates for Nicole, Cassandra, Casey, Sam, and others.
They are intelligent, warm, challenging, and competent. They deserve some chocolates at least. People who are good to me and others need appreciation and recognition.
They were first on my floral riot. I gave some Irisis to Alfreda, a good friend who sometimes helps us on the farm. She loves flowers and appreciates them. She was pleased.
She left before I took her photo with the flowers, but I have my favorite photo of her.
She is a beautiful flower.
Then there was Sue Lamberti, who gave our town (and me) a great gift by opening the flower shop. She doesn’t need flowers from me, but her flowers are beautiful, and I am thrilled to have access to them in the winter.
My next stop was Connie Brooks, above, the founder and owner of our excellent bookshop, Battenkill Books, a first-class bookstore in a small upstate New York town. I do not have enough words to thank Connie for my love of her store and countless happy visits there. She is unique in many ways and does good in many ways. She was pleased to get her Irises.
Utu has a tough job, running the day shifts of the food co-op in town. We see her almost daily; every encounter is fun, comfortable, and helps sustain. She also has sheep, makes yarn, and has a booming, charismatic personality. She is a lot of fun and brings all kinds of good feelings (and good food) into our lives. She makes shopping for food fun, but I have yet to experience that.
I had a blast on my flower riot. Thanks to Sue for re-opening her floral business. I might do my flower riot monthly if I can.
After that, I sat down with a cannabis counselor and talked about how I could continue with my sleeping/cannabis exercise without flipping out. They gave me some new cannabis to try and suggested taking one at a time. We agreed I didn’t need anxiety edibles; the only time I’ve panicked in a long time was when I took cannabis anxiety edibles.
Live and learn. I take one edible every other night and a small dose of melatonin every other. I feel good about not running away from it and working harder to understand how to use it wisely and well.
It’s so easy to brighten someone’s day. If we all did it, our country would be less of a billionaire’s cesspool. I always remember the idea: small acts of great kindness.
Thanks, Sue, for your flower and gift shop. It’s great to see your hard work pay off. I think you are happier than you used to be.
I think we’ll see a lot of each other, at least until May.
The head injury is a new experience; it changes almost every day. Monday, I had a fever that lasted for a full day; yesterday, I had dizziness and light-headedness all day; today, I feel clear and strong and stand up with my head spinning.
This will perhaps last another week or so; there is no question that the injury is healing. I’m holding food down and sleeping better, and the pain in my back, stubborn and ubiquitous, is better.
No Tylenol today. My back is still sore, but it’s time to let nature take over.
Maria and I are still sleeping downstairs; I hope to return to my bed tonight.
I have an old headache that goes with concussions; I’m expecting it to recede over the weekend.
As I do every day, I go outside first thing in the morning and check on my flowers, the stubborn survivors of the rain storms.
I continue to see flowers as part of floral communities; the color flows from one to another. Flowers do interact with one another, I try to catch that in my photography.
The Dahlia’s never fail to twist and turn in rich and living color.
Part of my experiment is mixing flowers up together and letting the colors speak to each other. So far, so good.
These star flowers are beginning to fade; the season is ending soon for them, but they are still fiery and determined in my mind.
The sun just came out, back to some color and light.
I’m putting up red, white, and blue flowers once a day over the next couple of days. I’m learning that flowers speak; they are sending me messages all the time now; perhaps I’m spending too much time outside in the Canadian smoke.
This first one was easy; in one bed, there were red, white, and blue flowers right next to one another.
I love my country, perhaps as only the grandson of refugees who came to America to live freely and stay alive can.
I love my country, even when it doesn’t seem to love me.
I’ve spent my whole life here and fully expect to end my life here.
The fourth is a couple of days away, but I’ll keep the red, white, and blue flowers coming to remind me of what the holiday means.
I will think of the countless people who gave their lives for people like my grandparents to come here and be free.
That is what the country means to me.
