One of the things I like most about gardening is the infinite possibility for resurrection.  So I didn't pick the last flush of green beans in time....oh well, there's always next year!  Hmmm..the Artemesia overwhelming that lovely short Mullein*?....let's see, which will I move or can I divide!  Never got around to thinning this or re-potting that: tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.  In the meantime, they all flourish or hunker or even languish and it still looks like garden, flowers still bloom, and if all else fails the Rose Campion seeds itself about, cheerfully blooming somewhere, no matter what!

Today is a sunny October day, cool but bright.  Rain is due later this week, which is actually good.  A few shrubs are beginning to turn, and I am watching the progress of bulbs I bought on sale early this summer. They have grown into marvelous spires with smallish purple-throated white flowers...surely I'll find the package with the plant's name sometime before spring, and devise an even better spot for them!

Our bird population is dwindling somewhat, but the nut hatches will stay I'm sure.  The jays will keep everyone but themselves in line all winter.   This year I know I'll be more conscientious about a feeding station!

On a day like today, all is possible.  A good thing to remember!

*Verbascum 'Jackie' - a short perennial mullein that blooms a lovely muted apricot flower continuously from spring all the way to now.  This is its second year despite general neglect.  I must look for more!



 

I don't know who first depicted depression as a "Sea of Despond"; I imagine the seemingly endless breadth and depth of depressed mood felt to them as uncontrollable as the ocean, as implicitly capable of great and possibly irreparable harm if conditions were right.  In the past few years we have learned the truth of this as tsunami's arise from the beautiful sea and wreak devastation.  Whoever coined this phrase, it is indeed apt.

In the book, "For The Journey" a main character writes of depression: "For some it was a matter of a life-long sense of unworthiness that sometimes leveled off to a background noise they could ignore, and other times rose up and demanded attention.  For others, depression itself was the earth they walked on, a ground spread with hidden trapdoors that might drop open at any time revealing, too late, an endless pit into which they were bound to plummet."

Over my thirty-plus years in the mental health treatment field, opportunities to sit with others who are experiencing, and overcoming, depression have been many.  Because many years of my own youth and young adulthood were spent struggling unaware with depression, the work was and is gratifying.

So it is, with some amusement and chagrin, that I post this to myself:  Take note! The "Pond of Morose" can be a tricky precursor to the "Sea of Despond."  An ocean of swirling beauty and color recently experienced as joyful connection with "All-That-Is" can, with a mere turn of mind, become a frighteningly unknowable void in which fears lurk and indecision paralyzes. 

It took some days for me to recognize the drift: to be reminded of how easily a dip in physical well-being can translate to a downturn in mood.  The pond is somewhat warm, comfortable, the silt not too deep.  And then it is.

Happily, I know exactly what to do.  And am emboldened to write it out, and post the directions soon.

Muskrat reminder:  Water, Earth, Air....all necessary for existence.