Planting a Seed

Happy New Year! I am a little late in saying so to the world (or to the 2-5 people that are reading this). It's already about time for the first round of people to start feeling bad they have messed up their New Year’s Resolutions. I start getting withdrawal symptoms about this time every year. Not from some particular vice I am trying to relinquish, but of all things, planting seeds! Getting to see that joyful miracle of ground breaking, followed by the tiny speck of green emerging all furled up fighting to bust out and grow and LIVE. So, metaphorically speaking, please indulge me and let me plant a seed in that fertile brain of yours! If you have dropped a resolution, drop the guilt along with it and decide if that resolution's really that important to YOU. That may be why so many resolves don't make it into February. In my experience, you have to deeply desire this change for it to be successful. Not what you should do, or what society dictates. It is your life, so decide what it is you really want to do.  Phew, thanks, I feel better already. That might hold me for another week or two when I can start planting lettuce and broccoli seeds.

What brought me to this topic was this: Much of my life has been dedicated to the thought, “What would people think?” Now I am finally cracking out of some hard packed clay dirt of my own and growing like a little seed. Hey, it is never too late. So it’s not too late to amend a resolution, and you don’t have to start big.

I am a big Christmas decorator. Not to Griswold levels, mind you, but I do run a tasteful swag across our half-wrap front porch railing with white lights and red bows, the mini trees on each side of the front door, bells on the front door, swags on the windows kind-of-thing. Certainly no inflatables of any kind.

I love making wreaths, and being that we are TLC Floral, I do have wreaths I change out seasonally on the outside wall next to the front door. (They don’t fit between the front door and our country style screen door.) So when decorating the front porch, I pulled out The Whopper. The Big One. The Christmas Wreath in all its glory! BUT, when I reached to take down the fall wreath, what did I find? Birds had snuggled in there for the winter! Usually only our summer wreaths get a nest, eggs included, but the whole family departs long before a switch out is required. But these little ones, all feathery and fluffed up, were nestled in the grapevine and silk leaves of fall for the long haul. They moved in and proudly enhanced it with adornments they must have foraged for, including what I believe to be my dryer lint I occasionally toss under our shrubs for them. 

I peeked in even closer. Looks to be three, but their heads were even tucked in except for one.  He must have been the lookout, but he didn't alert them, just stared back at me without moving one iota. I slowly backed off. OK little fellows, you can keep your town home this winter. You are more important to me than displaying my penultimate wreath. You can put on your nightcaps, but could you smile for the camera?

Now what will the neighbors think? Should I put a notice on the flags of the neighborhood mailboxes alerting them to my new-found residents as reason for my behavior? All Red and Green and Christmassy except for this magenta/orange/purple wreath? They will surely wonder, “Has she lost her mind?”  Neighborhood discussion groups may form. “Did she just forget to switch them?” Better Homes and Gardens won’t want to come out for a spread. WWMT? (…Martha Think?) Thank goodness my neighborhood doesn't have a homeowner's association!

I decided my fall wreath is a symbol I am going to try to care a little less about what people think. Starting small and that sense of accomplishment will foster a little seed to develop into a plant! Oh sure, I know it's not a concrete and measurable goal. Who cares? If I have a sense of accomplishment, that's what matters. OK, there was the time I washed our mattress pad and hung it on a line in the garage to dry and in a day, birds had snuggled in the folds to overwinter. Always had to make sure the garage door was left open before nightfall for them to return. But only a handful of people saw it hanging in our side opening garage. I can't count that. (Yes I bought another one, and discarded theirs after they moved out.) Writing that makes me think I do care what you think. Darn. Well, I do state subjectively "...a little less”, so I am covered.

Lastly, this does not come without some fear. Many a person who closed the door a little hard, or spoke a little too loudly while exiting, myself included, have been scared to death by the sudden quick dash departure of a Carolina Wren or two fleeing right past your head. It might happen to you too, so-to-speak. Just need to leave the porch light on a little longer so that you, I mean they, can find their way back in the dark of night…