By Kim Nelson, on April 6th, 2010%
I learned much of what I know from my 98-year old grandmother. First in her lap, and then in her kitchen and garden, I learned a lot. I heard words and songs, stories, prayers and poems from a woman to whom most sound remained elusive. Deaf from age eight, when chicken pox, measles, and scarlet fever joined forces to ravage her body and damage her auditory nerves, my Gram introduced me to both the wonder and the power of words. The relationship coalesced, and I’ve had a love affair with the written word ever since.
Outdoors, I learned the joy of working in tandem with the seasons, with the earth, with indeed, the universe. I learned how to grow almost anything from seed or seedling, to compost, to harvest, to cook and preserve. Then Gram taught me how to conserve and re-build resources, to encourage and support the natural cycles of life. Later, when my life challenged me in ways never expected, I took refuge in the garden. The bounty of Gram’s lessons filled not only my pantry, but also my soul, repeatedly renewing my spirit. Through her actions and examples, I learned to open my heart and my mind, and to anticipate and embrace the promise of abundance and hope.
The lessons I learned in Gram’s vegetable plot and flower beds, the truths discovered in her orchard and kitchen, have carried me through lean times, both financial and emotional. I learned to have faith, to nurture patience and to see the unique wonder and beauty in every living thing. I learned to discover individual value and to look for the good and praise it. I learned to love without condition, accept despite disagreement, release judgment and anger, and to walk with my head held high. My gram taught me a lot.
She taught me how to fry the chicken everyone wants at a potluck, the secret to a good “biscuit hand,” and how to make the best vanilla ice cream and deep dark fudge. She taught me to play Aggravation and Scrabble and Kings in The Corners, and how to be gracious in victory and defeat. She taught how to baste and hem and sew a straight seam, keeping the stitches close and tight and the fabric pucker-free. She imparted the value of long, drawn-out suppers where conversation and love flow back and forth across the table just as surely as the tide rolls in and out. So many lessons. Blessed gifts.
Pondering all that Gram generously bestowed, I’m behooved to ask “What was of greatest value?” The answer is quick, pure and true. The best gift given, the most valuable lesson learned is the wonder of Love. Unconditional, unfettered, unabashed Love. Because she loved me so completely, I learned to love that way too. Lucky me.
Facing the latest in a long line of temporal assaults, my sweet Gram left the hospital yesterday for a physical rehab facility, following a fall and a broken hip. Always soft-spoken, non-judgmental, forgiving and accepting, Gram (also diagnosed with Alzheimer’s) has recently displayed some atypical characteristics. Pain, frustration and dementia pushed her to “damn” the physical therapist “to hell” (!) when he made her walk just 24-hours after surgery. With a wide smile and dancing eyes, the young PT who already calls Gram “Grandma,” said to my mom, “She’s the feistiest patient I have. She’s amazing us all.”
That’s my Gram ~ Amazing.
Always has been.
Love…
By Kim Nelson, on March 19th, 2010%
My friend and fellow writer, V-Grrrl, wrote a compelling post about her dealings with depression and the healing and supportive effects of social media. I invite you to read her story.
In response, I penned the comments below:
I first wanted to die at age 7. Prayed every night that I’d not awaken in the morning. For the longest time, I blamed my inner turmoil on a wildly tumultuous family life laden with violence and abuse and tears.
Through my thirties, the “dark debilitator” and I never parted company. I read scores of self-help books, ate right, got plenty of sleep, avoided alcohol, sought counseling, never toyed with drugs and practiced every holistic recommendation.
Still, He dogged me.
Despite the fact that, once an adult, I enjoyed every blessing and achieved every goal, I fell into the abyss on a regular basis. Climbing out was a monumental feat that nearly broke me time and again.
When the first of two of my children became chronically ill, I finally told the doctor the dirty details of my thirty-year battle with the beast. Her response? “This is a biological illness. All you’ve done has helped, but only medication will set your chemistry right.”
Enter the vanquisher- a prescription antidepressant. Over the last ten years I weaned myself off of it several times, thinking I could manage on my own. Finally, I accept it as my saving grace. On it, I AM me. Without it, He wins. Fuck that.
If it ever stops working, I’ll get myself to the doctor and find a new weapon. I love being me. I’ll never again willingly give up myself.
If you think you might suffer with depression, make an appointment with your doctor. Seek help. Feel better.
* "Black Dog" is a colloquial term for depression.
By Kim Nelson, on March 9th, 2010%
I dreamed of you
So vividly
Before you breathed life here.
You came to me with firm belief
That you were mine, so dear.
When morning came, I lucidly
Considered your request,
And changed up my life’s plan
Right there,
Upon your righteousness.
Once committed, I prepared
To have you in my life,
Proceeding forth to welcome you
No fear, no doubt, no strife.
When you arrived,
Beloved!
I knew that we’d been right.
We salvaged joy, began new worlds,
Thanks to that fateful night.
By Kim Nelson, on March 9th, 2010%
“Behind all this, some great happiness is hiding.”
~ Yehuda Amichai
In the midst of the trial,
The tunnel’s length and breadth
Swallowed up its ending light.
Or did our anger and our grief
Destroy that, too?
In the dark, we clung
We to He
You to Me
Me to You
Fear of death
~ Worse yet ~
Fear of life like this
Stopped us in our tracks
And then
Pushed!
Pushed us
To push back, push on, push through.
Stubborn will, paternal fight, future’s-sight
Love
Were all we knew.
And they grew
Until
Thanks to the process? … luck? … good will?
We found the happiness.
Always there. Never gone.
Hiding just behind,
All along.
By Kim Nelson, on January 27th, 2010%
I garden avidly.
When I was a child, my now 98-year old grandmother introduced me to the magic of coaxing food, medicine, scent, and sensation from seeds planted in the earth.
Gram lived a few blocks from my childhood home (in which my mom still lives) and I could walk to her place in minutes. In my first book, A Desert Gardener’s Companion, I share a few of my happy-memory stories:
~ Gram supervised while I planted bulbs in her front bed to earn my Brownie Girl Scout Handbook.
~ I learned to double-dig alongside her in the vegetable plot of her half-acre garden.
~ All the girls in the family made jams and jellies from home-grown fruit in Gram’s tiny but efficient kitchen.
It was at the dining table in that same kitchen that I first perused stacks of seed catalogs with color-rich covers cradling packet descriptions and hundreds of varieties possessing distinct and unique qualities. I loved those catalogs then, and I love them now. But these days my favorite catalogs and companies are online.
I recently ordered seed from Botanical Interests, enticed by their Facebook page , our Twitter connection and their inspirational blog posts.
Botanical Interests is ”a family owned garden seed packet company specializing in dependable herb, flower, and vegetable varieties for the home gardener.” Always pleased with their products, I expect this year’s choices to perform just as well.
 
Bring Home The Butterflies, Xeriscape Extreme and Perennial Bloom promise to be great additions to my newly-installed bird and butterfly garden. Just outside the massive bay of windows that define my work space, I’ve planted lots of seed- and berry-producing plants to entice the desert’s insect and avian creatures.
When interplanted with the Guara, lavender, Loropetalum, Plumbago, Pyracantha, Salvia and others, I’m sure the nectar-producing florals these selections boast, along with the baby’s breath, Nasturtiums, Penstemon, and poppies, will be utterly adored.
And I will adore the creatures they attract.
I just hope the raptors
…and the coyotes
…and wild cats
mind their manners.
Bless the beasts…
|
|
|
