mishappen and now missing

Beware the politically obsessed.
They are often bright and interesting, but they have something missing in their natures;
there is a hole, an empty place, and they use politics to fill it up.
It leaves them somehow misshapen.
Peggy Noonan

(something has been nibbling / Julie Cook / 2016)

I don’t know about you, but something seems to be not only a little misshapen, but now, totally missing….

A couple of weeks ago I bought a pretty healthy new little shrub, from the local nursery, in hopes of filling in a gap in one of the shrub beds.

I don’t know, but something doesn’t look right.
It looks shorter to me…
Less full…
lopsided…
depleted…
as in, something seems to be missing…

I had my suspicions.

Walking over the yard, to survey the crime scene, I found a couple of telling signs…
as in indicators as to perhaps the reason for the shrubs lack of vigor…

(the telling signs of deer in the yard / Julie Cook / 2016)

Obviously there are visitors to my little corner of the world,
late at night,
when no one is watching.

All of which now has me wondering about the other things in life where I see things misshapen and oddly missing…

I wonder what it was that went missing in our hearts and minds to have turned us so far from God’s direction for our lives.

This desire we seem to now have to fill our cups to the brim with all things satiating as we have total disregard for Him, His word, His believers….forget God, it’s a free for all of self…

I wonder what it was that went missing from our leaders with regard to this
once great Nation Under God…
What of their charge to keep and protect that which is sacred to a Nation…
it’s nucleus, the family.

I wonder what it was that went missing when we decided it was ok for abortions to be used readily as a means of birth control…with total disregard to human life—which was once considered a miracle and a gift.
Now it’s a bother and a burden.

I wonder what went missing when we decided that the union of a man and a man or a woman and a woman was equally as good to that of a man and a woman.
No longer is life clearcut, but blurred and gray…
Leaving nothing but confusion in its wake for the future…

I wonder what went missing when we decided that we could throw caution to the wind as changing ones sex has become as simple as changing shoes.
You aren’t feeling very manly today?
No problem.
Try being a woman…
as we continue to lose ourselves to the current identity crises and delusion…

I wonder what went missing, which in turn has transformed us into sponges of all things tolerant…
while we readily forget and happily rewrite the consequences of actions and proclaim total acceptance in the name of all things happy. Who needs consequences, which gives way to the notion, who needs laws…
So then everything goes..keeping everybody happy…right??

I wonder what went missing which has made us so lazy and whiny as a people…as we scour for the easy way out and the getting everything for nothing… by hook or crook…as we’ve decide that however we get “it,” whatever we want the it to be, is ok just as long as we get it…

I wonder what went missing we we decided the Judaeo / Christian foundation of this country was now passé and obsolete….banning it’s laws, The Ten Commandments, from sight—maybe it’s an out of sight out of mind kind of thing…

And whereas it’s easy to walk through the yard to figure out what’s happening to the shrubbery, it’s not so easy walking through this current world of ours, figuring out what went wrong…since most folks don’t see anything wrong with us who are now terribly misshapen and even missing….

The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness,
but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish,
but that all should reach repentance.
2 Peter 3:9

Therapy amongst the mint

“All of earth is crammed with heaven
And every bush aflame with God
But only those who see take off their shoes.”
Elizabeth Barrett Browning

“The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature. As long as this exists, and it certainly always will, I know that then there will always be comfort for every sorrow, whatever the circumstances may be. And I firmly believe that nature brings solace in all troubles.”
Anne Frank

(a clump of freshly pulled mint mixed in a pile of roots / Julie Cook / 2015)

The air was punctuated with the pungent aroma of mint and basil mingled with a heavy dose of loamy moist dirt.
I had taken pruning shears with me, but put them aside in favor of my two gloved hands.
My intent was to simply cut it all back but instead I opted to hopefully rid my yard and life of the invasive mayhem.

The growing green mass had covered the whole front corner of the bed by the garage and was set to cover up Mimi’s ancient cement bench if something wasn’t done and done soon to stop this almost giddy encroachment.

My heart has felt much the same in recent days, overrun and over burdened with and by the onslaught of the grim global headlines.

The now burgeoning sickly yellowish green patch is usually the first thing in the yard to show its tender new verdant foliage during those sleepy hopeful wee days between winter and spring. It’s what gives me hope that life, rebirth, regrowth and Spring will indeed vanquish Old Man Winter while ushering in welcoming warmer days.

As I wondered about how best to tackle the latest infestation of overgrowth in the shrub bed, my thoughts wandered a world away to what or whom would or could now vanquish the sweeping global sorrows that were entangling both my heart and soul.

Come late Summer. . .when life is dried out and burned out, just as the seasons prepare to knock on the door of Autumn, the leggy gangly masses have become a truly unsightly tangled mess of tired and spent. As in I’m just ready to cut it all away, rid my life of the jumbled mess and happily welcome in some cool crisp colorful order.

I wish I could easily do the same for our hurting planet.

I’ve always found solace in working with my hands.
The more manual the labor the more productive and alive I feel.
There is a cleansing honesty in working with one’s hands.
Never mind that my back has been giving me fits, never mind the heat index is still in the triple digits, I will gladly get down and dirty, as the sun continues to bake the world, for working hard in the yard is good for the soul, the mind and often literally the heart.

Oh that it could be so easy with this greatly burdened world of ours.

As a true Southerner I’ve grown up with mint sprouting from every yard I’ve ever called home. What better accompaniment to one’s tea or julep, depending on your preference, than a sprig of fresh mint? Anyone will tell you mint is easy, as in it grows itself. In fact it’s just a little too easy, as in too eager and way too invasive. It’s more like a weed gone wild then a treasured herb. Plus everyone who does any work in a garden will tell you, any novice can grow mint— it offers instant gratification to the more hesitant would-be gardeners among us.

But my mint patch has been on the run and I had to stop it before things got anymore out of hand. Rather than cut it back, just for it to sprout right back to this same spreading madness within a few days, I took to pulling it up, by the long lanky root full. Even poor ol St Francis had to be laid on his side just so I could get to what was running under my favorite saint’s feet. I don’t think he was much bothered by the intrusion.

As I yanked and pulled, buried just under the top layer of straw and soil, was a criss crossing network of an eerily bone white root system stretching for what seemed to be miles. With each tugged, pulled and unearthed jumble of lanky roots and dirt, earwigs and beetles alike scurried helter skelter, madly seeking a dark cloak of safety in the damp compost soil.

The more my thoughts drifted over the latest mounding national and global turmoils, I pulled harder and deeper. Sweat trickled down my face, pooling at the tip of my nose before dripping and disappearing into the blackened soil. The sweat seemed to reach across the globe mingling with the tears of those thousands of people now walking hundreds of miles in search of asylum and safety.

As the morning turned to afternoon, I had finally pulled up the last of the mint. The piles were now all raked up, the walkway swept and the pine straw smoothed as the shrub bed now had a delightfully clean and fresh look.

I still had no grand revelations as to how to help the ever growing global crises sweeping across our lives nor how to ease the lingering tensions within our own Nation. I was hot, tired and weary of body, but there was oddly a refreshing clarity of thought.
No longer did I feel totally overwhelmed or at a loss.
Still not knowing where to even begin to help, I gratefully no longer felt as defeated as I had.
There’s just something about physical labor, with it’s overwhelming beginning and productive ending, that gives hope to the overwhelming obstacles of life. . . hope that we can indeed tackle and eventually overcome the litany of misery facing our current global family.

I trust we will be able to do so. . .
for only in God, comes hope to the hopeless, and strength to the weak. . .

Bear one another’s burdens, and thereby fulfill the law of Christ.
Galatians 6:10

“Let me arise and open the gate, to breathe
the wild warm air of the heath,
And to let in Love, and to let out Hate,
And anger at living and scorn of Fate,
To let in Life, and to let out Death.”
Violet Fane

Vibrancy

“The more ugly, older, more cantankerous, more ill and poorer I become, the more I try to make amends by making my colors more vibrant, more balanced and beaming.”
Vincent van Gogh

(American Beauryberry hiding out deep in the woods, Troup Co, Ga / Julie Cook / 2014)

As Monday morning has rolled around once again, with many of us heading back to a long grinding week of school, travel and work, I decided we could all do with a little jolt color—just enough as to evoke a smile verses too much which might leave us a bit unsettled.

I could think of no better example than the American Beautyberry bush (callicarpa americana), also known as the French Mulberry–bedecked and bejeweled with its skittle like candy colored berries?

The Beautyberry is a member of the verbena family and cousin to lantana.
The Beautyberry’s fruit, also known as drupes, those lucious looking clusters of vibrant lavender berries are a favorite food of the Northern Bobwhite, also known as Quail. The American Whitetail deer enjoys foraging on the leaves of the Beautyberry and Native Americans used the roots, leaves and berries to create teas which would treat such ailments as rheumatism, malaria, fever, dysentery as well as colic.

Botanist and scientists continue to study the Beautyberry’s powerful ability of warding of mosquitoes, gnats and ticks with some proclaiming the chemical compounds found in the leaves may equal the chemical Deet when battling such bloodthirsty pests.

I found a lovely site by a Florida forager who makes Beautyberry Jelly and has even concocted his own Beautyberry insect repellant cream that he claims to be “hands down” the best repellant he’s ever used.
Who knew ?!

Beautyberry Jelly
as excepted form the site:
http://www.eattheweeds.com/beautyberry-jelly-on-a-roll/

1 ½ qts. of Beautyberries, washed and clean of green stems and leaves. Cover with 2 qts. water.Boil 20 minutes and strain to make infusion. Use 3 cups of the infusion, bring to boil, add 1 envelope Sure-Jell and 4 ½ cups sugar. Bring to second boiland boil 2 minutes. Remove from heat and let stand until foam forms. Skim off foam, pour into sterilized jars, cap.

Repellant Cream
I pretty much chopped up a plant(leaves and stems) and boiled it in a pot and let it cool and strained the brown liquid into my blender, about 1 1/2 cups. In a separate pot I warmed some organic neem oil (1 cup) with 1 ounce of beeswax until melted. Then you turn the blender on and pour in the oil mixture very slowly and it becomes a cream. I have to say hands down the best insect repellent ever! Because its a creme on july/august days one application is all you need for the entire day even when your sweating.”

Here’s to a happy and vibrant Monday!!

Is there anything more beautifully Southern?

The artist is the confidant of nature, flowers carry on dialogues with him through the graceful bending of their stems and the harmoniously tinted nuances of their blossoms. Every flower has a cordial word which nature directs towards him.
Auguste Rodin

(pink hydrangea blooms, Savannah, Georgia / Julie Cook / 2014)

Ode to the showy hydrangea.
Some consider the hydrangea a boastful an overtly showy plant / bush. They are capped off with large garish clusters of blooms mounding in a giant heavy clump.
These plants grow long woody stems, accented with equally large green leaves, topped with giant colorful pompoms of flowers. They can grow quit massive if not watched and pruned.

The ph of the soil is the key in determining whether a hydrangea will be pink or blue. I wrote about my blue hydrangeas last summer, offering several images.
And as I do have two blue bushes, it is when I see the pink varieties, as was the case in Savannah, that I am so taken by their light, airy and dainty feminine charm. The pink blooms seem almost more soft and tender than the blue.

This past Winter’s harsh final hooray of wicked weather, which we experienced in the early days of a slow coming Spring, took a great toll on my hydrangeas. Fearing the worst, that I had lost my hydrangeas to the deep freeze, I had to cut them back almost to the ground. Luckily for me, life prevailed, and they have managed to leaf back out, but unfortunately will not bloom this season.

So until I have my own blooms sprouting, I will have to enjoy the blooms of others.
I hope you will enjoy them as well. . .