Black Swallowtail Caterpillar (photo: Lorie Sheffer)
It was a logical question. Why do I always plant fennel in a few of the pots on my deck? I’ve made some wonderful salads with thinly sliced fennel bulbs and blood orange, but for the most part I’m not a fan of the flavor. And yet every year without fail, I have pots of fennel, and by early July they have been gnawed back down to the ground.
The first year I planted fennel I noticed the plants were being eaten at an alarming rate. They were covered in what appeared to be dried bird droppings, but on closer inspection turned out to be tiny bugs of some sort. Could have sprayed them, but chose to leave them. The bugs rapidly grew, in direct correlation to the shrinking of the gnawed fennel, into amazing looking neon green, bright yellow and black worms. Intrigued, I took a photo and then headed in to the computer for a little research. In a short time I had my answer to what these creatures were, and several weeks later I was treated to the beautiful finale of their life cycle, the black swallowtail butterfly. They were everywhere!
Lessons learned: If you want beauty in your life, then you have to provide an incentive. At first glance something may look like a mar on what you are trying to achieve, but if you just wait it out the results can be way better than your original vision. Today’s pest may be tomorrow’s treasure.
It’s really not that difficult to find something to appreciate. Gratitude is good for our souls. Studies have shown that living a life of gratitude can make us happier people.
When we walk into a public restroom, we expect it to be clean. We expect there to be soap in the dispenser and paper on the roll. Someone has to do that for us.
When we go out for a meal we expect to be served food. Someone has to process it; someone has to drive it, via truck, to the restaurant. Someone has to prepare it, someone has to clean the restaurant, and someone has to make out the work schedules for the employees they had to hire. Someone had to come build the actual structure. People work to come up with the menu, and then they send it out for someone to print. Someone even had to fell the trees that were trucked to the paper plant to make the paper on which to print the food selections.
There are some jobs that are held in higher regard than others. But can you imagine if the surgical team (someone had to educate them) who is doing, say, a heart transplant, had to first design and build the hospital, design and manufacture their equipment, disinfect the operating room, launder the sheets, transport the patient, make sure the post-op room was clean and waiting and then farm and prepare their meals during their recovery? Every job is an important piece of the whole picture.
If we stop to think about all of the people who are involved in everything we do in our daily lives, it’s easy to feel a sense of gratitude.
What if we thought every job was performed by heroes?
Memorial Day and Veterans Day are celebrations of and thanks to our men and women in the military. They most certainly deserve our appreciation and our respect.
Why, then, are other occupations treated with such nastiness? Why the generalizations?
“Those lying politicians!” “Those damned doctors!” “Those grease-monkey mechanics?” “Those crooked lawyers!” are a few of the doozies I’ve heard just in the last week. Can you imagine making such sweeping statements about someone in the armed services? And yet there are, in ANY line of work, a few bad apples. For example Jeffrey McDonald, the Green Beret who so famously murdered his pregnant wife and two young daughters in 1970, or the huge problem of sexual assault in the military did not ignite a cry against all others who serve.
“Laying their lives on the line”; like Presidents Lincoln, Garfield, McKinley and Kennedy. And what about the lucky ones, whose would-be assassins had bad aim? Presidents Reagan, Ford, Truman, Jackson and both Presidents Roosevelt. What about Harvey Milk, a man who knowingly put his life on the line, and lost it, for the equal rights of others? Let’s remember those who were horribly wounded and left with permanent disability, like former Press Secretary James Brady or US House member Gabby Giffords. Every single one of them “those damned politicians”.
I wish we had a day that honored all professions. I suppose Labor Day is intended to do that, although it mostly marks the end of summer. I’d like to see a day that honors the hard working men who collect our trash every Friday morning, no matter the weather, dodging impatient motorists. Imagine life without them. I’d like to honor the doctors and nurses who worked so hard to pull my brother, father and husband back from the brink of death. I’d especially like to honor the ones who volunteer with Doctors Without Borders, who willingly go into danger zones to save the lives of others. I’d like to honor the furnace repairman who comes out in the middle of night in the dead of winter, the plumber who gives up his day off to fix a broken pipe, the farmer who grows the food I eat, the waitress whose feet are killing her at the end of her shift. I’d like to thank those damned engineers; “you know how they are”. They’re the ones who design just about everything we use in our daily lives. Thanks to the lawyer whose compassion and knowledge helped guide us after the death of our cousin. Above all, I’d like to thank those “Grease Monkeys”. I remember seeing the grease embedded in my father’s hands, inhaling the smell of it on his clothing when he came in after lying on his back on a cold concrete floor for 12 hours. I thank him when I help him up the steps or retrieve his cane for him. His mobility is severely limited from all of those years of hard manual labor. He wanted to retire at 80, but he only made it to 78.
Exercise first and foremost is designed to keep us active and active has a long list of benefits.
It’s been twelve weeks. Five days a week, an average of forty-five minutes a day. On the rare day it’s exceptionally hot and humid or pouring rain we may only go for twenty-five minutes, but if it’s relatively comfortable we may stay outside for over an hour. Only one day did we cancel, due to lightening and hail.
We have graduated from staying on the sidewalk to climbing some hills and going through uneven fields. On hot days, one of us may even go for a wade in the creek. (One of us not being me.)
Her owner says he can tell she is getting fit. She seems to have dropped a little weight and her behavior is better. She is going to be 16 years old soon, and her energy is boundless.
My hip pain is almost non-existent, the tendonitis in my ankle is at least 75% better and I now sleep through the night. My anxiety is almost entirely manageable. Would I have committed to this daily routine with such enthusiasm had I known that my weight would remain unchanged? I’m honestly not sure. I’d like to say that all of the positive changes would have been more than enough to motivate me, but truthfully, not shedding any weight has been a real downer. Sorting family photos last evening shone a light on the harsh reality that genetics are not on my side. Longevity, yes; slimness, not so much.
I need to send this to Jeff for tomorrow’s posting. I have a little dog waiting for me, and she’s ready for our daily walk. It’s cool and cloudy. We’ll be walking for at least an hour today.
