Friday, September 3, 2021

FRIENDLY CONVERSATION

Yesterday at Starbucks, Beverly asked me about “hope.” Actually, she didn’t exactly “ask” — she said (and this is a broad paraphrase:) 

“Medical professionals are finding that people who have hope manage illness and trauma better than those who do not.” 

You might wonder if Beverly is a particularly philosophical, well-informed woman. (Yes.) 

You also might wonder if this is usual conversation for us to have in a Starbucks over a decaf Latte with extra foam. (Yes again) 

You might ask yourself, “how would I respond to that statement?” 

In this particular case, I mentally rushed off with some flight of word excrement. I do that a lot. I wish I could be smarter. Nearly always that means shutting up and thinking before spewing. 

I’m not the only one who suffers from this disease. I notice it a lot, especially among men who don’t seem to have a knack for casual (or philosophical) conversation. Instead, they are geared for presenting solo recitations. 

I don’t mean to be sexist. It simply appears to be how men are taught. Women are taught to apply make up.

I stopped by Beverly’s house this morning. Twenty-five years ago, she planted a forest pansy redbud tree in a small garden space beside the entry to her house. It outgrew the space and was cut down last year. 

Beverly is an excellent gardener but after twenty-five years, plants sometimes need to be thinned or even removed. This isn’t wasteful. Nor is it evidence of having made an error in space planning. It just is what it is — part of the gardener’s — and plants’ — life cycle. 

People’s too? Although I don’t know about the “thinning or removing” part. I would like to lose 10% of my body weight. I read that thinner old people are generally healthier. The “happy fat person” is a myth. 

A thinner me might have fewer arthritic pains. Do plants have “growing pains?” They certainly stop thriving when they get too crowded — a certain similarity, don’t you think? 

The tree stump was left in the ground at Beverly’s house. Sure enough, forest pansy tree sprouts are coming up from the stump and now they are about sixteen inches high with the tell-tell mahogany heart-shaped leaves. 

Beverly is waiting for another full-on, forest pansy tree which she is sure will grow — it’s only a matter of time. She will water and fertilize. Redbuds are notoriously quick growing trees and this one might become a good sized — bush? 

Beverly is my age. She doesn’t have enough years left to observe the miraculous resurrection of a statuesque tree standing in the corner garden in place of an abandoned stump. 

That’s hope for you! 

That’s a gardener for you!

 ````````` VALIDATION IS FOR PARKING….
This is a forest pansy redbud tree.
New leafs

2 comments:

iPMM said...

Consider reading The Arbornaut by Meg Lowman, even if only the first few chapters.

iPMM said...

It's me, Margie Searl.