Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Fake It Till You Make It

(Reprinted from my wordpress blog dated May 11, 2010.)

Someone said that to me years ago and it just stuck. Today I will fake that I really don’t have a nagging sore throat; that the projects I always have on my list each night will really get done; that I really am not worried how my son will make it in this life and that his son and daughter will grow up to be perfect and well adjusted; and that I really don’t want to just be out in my garden up to my elbows in dirt instead of where I really am. There – just writing all that down seemed to unload it all just a bit. There isn’t much there that I have control over, so why let it continue to stew?

Over this past weekend, when my sweet little Kloe fell asleep in her swing, I ran out into the backyard in the hopes of planting a few new plants: Russian sage Pevovskia and Powderpuff Mimosa strigillosa.

To me the sage almost looks like lavender with stalks of lavender blooms. I think two more will create the drift I am hoping for. They only go to Zone 9, but I often have good luck with that still. It is planted in a semi-shaded area under a tree that I wish I knew the name of. It is a tropical tree native to South America (I think), with beautiful yellow blooms in the winter (which was why I wanted it) and BIG thorns (which is why I was asked to please not plant it a couple of years ago). I planted it anyway. I cannot fully stand under it yet so I am on my hands and knees digging a hole with my small hand trowel while trying not to get thorns in my back.

The pink powderpuff mimosas are native to Florida. I planted them in and amongst some other groundcovers…a creeping jasmine and dune daisies. I like the idea of the pink powderpuffs popping up their little bushy heads there. All in keeping with the backyard color scheme of purples, whites, pinks, and yellows (and shades thereof).

Any gardener knows that when you are out there on your hands and knees (or finally just sitting there in the middle of the bed), weeds seen have to be removed. I have a pesky weed that likes to invade everything in the yard….grass included. As I was pulling it up and flinging it into a pile, I turned to look over my shoulder and saw our chickens feasting on them. First of all, I didn’t even realize they were out. It is a different view to be sitting on the ground when they are having their walk-about. They look so much bigger. Secondly, it was pretty cool to just watch them pecking all the leaves off the weeds I had discarded. My pest was their feast.

Out of nowhere, these lyrics popped into my head:

To everything: turn, turn, turn;
There is a season: turn, turn, turn;
And a time to every purpose, under Heaven.

I guess seeing the chickens eat what I had considered to be trash reminded me that everything has a purpose and place in this world. And since I basically think life is one big musical anyway and that in certain situations one should just break out in song, I was not surprised that a song came to mind. However, that particular Byrds song had not entered my mind in forever. And right then and there, I felt peace. I enjoyed just sitting in the middle of a flower bed, under a thorny tree, watching a chicken dance, and humming a song in my head.

Next scene, my husband is walking out of the house with our granddaughter, who is now awake. He sits down in the grass so she can see the chickens up close and I can finish getting my few plants in the ground. Here Comes the Sun, the James Taylor/Yo Yo Ma version, is next on the In Carol’s Head jukebox. Truth be said, there is almost always a song going on in there. Kloe mostly bears the brunt of my constant singing and often looks at me quizzically. The other day I made up a little ditty that almost made her laugh. She goes to sleep every night listening to Jewel sing lullabies. I have no idea if it helps or if she likes it. She seems to. It makes me feel better anyway.

In my Fake It Till You Make It world, I often don’t have to fake it for long. I just break out in song and everything seems better!

I miss my singing career very much. ~ Elvis Presley

The only thing better than singing is more singing. ~ Ella Fitzgerald

And finally….

If your lifeguard duties were as good as your singing, a lot of people would be drowning. ~ Simon Cowell

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