In early spring, when the nettles were thriving and the first tender green chive stems broke through the cold dirt, the weeds also began to flourish. It became clear that the Bindweed, or more affectionately known as Morning Glory, was working diligently to take over the garden. There was a moment in that realization that I wanted to give up right then and there and just give the garden over to the weed but instead I likened it to a lesson about my own persistence in digging out my own inner weeds. Which, like the removal of this prolific plant that shoots out rhizomes up to fifteen feet below the soil, is a never ending task. At that moment I committed to the garden and to myself to tend to the weeds.
Well, it’s deep into summer now and the Morning Glory is proudly taking up quite a bit of space. She’s weaving her way through the raspberries, clutching to the blueberries, and mingling with the grapes as if they’ve been life-long friends. In fact much of the garden is overcome with seeds leftover from last summer’s harvest, others brought in by neighboring birds, and some that managed to survive from the flippant seed scattering I did when I realized I was too tired to devote the attention needed to tend a weedless garden.
Last summer the garden was a masterpiece. Chuffed with the heft of my zucchini I boasted of my abundance. There were always plenty of green beans, greens, cherry tomatoes, and of course, zucchini to share. It was tidy and abundant. This season I’m always the first to point out to garden guests; both animals and humans, that I didn’t put near as much time into it this year. There’s a need in me to apologize for my own self-diagnosed laziness. Because of this weed shame I found myself often avoiding the garden to avoid the negative feelings. Until one morning when the chickens were clucking their “let me out” call I brought my coffee outside, let the chickens out and wandered the garden taking pictures and videos on my phone. It’s amazing how sometimes the camera lens can force me to look at something from a different perspective.
There were bees weighed down from pollen from the artichokes, arugula, and shallots I left to flower. The few seeds I did plant intentionally were thriving. The zucchini were prolific and the beans were bursting with royal purple flowers. The raspberries were sweet and nearly dripping off their stems, and the currants hung heavy on their branches. The chickens hopped up to gather the berries on the lower vines while the birds sang nearby. I sat back and watched the bees moving busily from one Morning Glory in bloom to the next and I wondered what measure of beauty was I using to judge my own garden? Because at that moment, I couldn’t have described a more beautiful scene.
Of course I do realize that weeds like bindweed can choke out healthy plants and there are reasons for removing certain plant species. It’s far more complicated than my analogy leaves room for and yet for this summer, it was a gift to allow myself some time to rest and to learn from the weeds a new standard of beauty.
The morning glories and the sunflowers turn naturally toward the light, but we have to be taught, it seems.
Richard Rohr
There’s a great hesitation in bringing up the Barbie movie as the entire internet is talking about it but there’s this idea of ordinariness which I can’t quite shake and I’m not certain if I even have words or cohesive thoughts to it. All I can say is this idea of allowing ourselves the possibility of just being ordinary is something that I’m finding quite peaceful. This also goes along with something I saw recently about how we often withhold from trying new things at the risk of being average but the reality is most of us are going to be quite average. All of this is stirring in me the release of doing big things so that I can make more room for just being. But then there’s also curiosity mixed with a bit of anger as to who was given the power to declare what things are ordinary, and therefore less than, and what constitutes great, big things worthy of fame, fortune, and grand applause. I’m equally more and more okay with not needing our world’s definition of success while also wanting to resist and question the standards that were made up that created such a hierarchy.
I’m okay with an ordinary day that brings me joy, one that I can find great beauty in and if a life is made up of a bunch of those, well that sounds pretty great.
“Do not ask your children
to strive for extraordinary lives.
Such striving may seem admirable,
but it is the way of foolishness.
Help them instead to find the wonder
and the marvel of an ordinary life.
Show them the joy of tasting
tomatoes, apples and pears.
Show them how to cry
when pets and people die.
Show them the infinite pleasure
in the touch of a hand.
And make the ordinary come alive for them.
The extraordinary will take care of itself.”
― William Martin, The Parent's Tao Te Ching: Ancient Advice for Modern Parents
Journal
Describe an ordinary summer day. What does it look like? Feel like? What activities are you doing? As you write, notice how you feel. How is your body responding to this imaginary scene?
Is there resistance to the idea of being average and ordinary? Get curious about that and write out the questions that it brings up.
Continue journaling your glimmers - those moments that light you up. Glimmers are essentially joy triggers.
Here are a few of mine from the week:
Sitting at the bar of our all-time favorite restaurant (hey there, Delancey) drinking pink bubbles and lapping up Burrata swimming in basil pesto.
Getting to hug a friend I’ve not seen since March
Holding hands with friends while walking into the waves moments before we plunge into the cold waters
Seeing three juvenile Orcas swimming just off the shores of our neighborhood beach. Just writing that makes me jealous for the me that got to see that.
The ways the chickens run right up to me when I come outside.
Plucking the first zucchini from the garden.
Crocheting with my nieces
Seeing the cover of my next book!
To listen
I’ve not yet listened to this but I’m adding it to my list:
‘Extraordinary' is overrated. Here's how to embrace the power of an ordinary life
To read:
Adding this to my long list of books to read: An Ordinary Age: Finding Your Way in a World That Expects Exceptional
To do
Walk around your garden, a public garden or park, with your camera and take photos of ordinary moments. See what happens when you pay attention to, capture, then look back on the ordinary through a new lens. Somehow the mundane can become extraordinary in how we see it.
Have an absolutely ordinary day and praise yourself for it. Like get downright giddy about it. What does praising the ordinary feel like?
“Let us dance in the sun, wearing wild flowers in our hair...”
― susan polis schutz
To make
There hasn’t been much cooking or interest in cooking these days. This so often happens right after I finish writing a cookbook and honestly, I hit a cooking lull in the summer which seems like the opposite of what I’d expect. Just when the market is bursting I just want to linger outside and enjoy not cooking. Good thing much of what I most love about this season can be enjoyed straight off the vine or with little to no prep. Like cherries served cold, and tomatoes sliced thick served on mayonnaise slathered bread, or strawberries dipped in sour cream and then brown sugar. Right now I feel as if I need time to reset and release myself from the need to feed and to come up with ideas that delight and excite. But luckily past versions of myself have created many recipes that deserve repeating and this one gets made again and again. We’re nearly to tomato season here in the northwest and I just saw Joy from Joy the Baker post her version of the tomato tart and I’ve not stopped thinking of it since.
What a great way to spend a day.
We leave for our annual week-long trip to the San Juan Islands tomorrow and I’m moments away from turning in another book manuscript (more on that soon, I’m sure). I spend more time packing my “to do” bag with books, crafts, puzzles, etc. than I do my clothes. I want to feel deep rest, to spend hours in the sun getting lost in fantastical fiction, sipping bubbly wine while listening to the waves, and staying up way too late laughing with my family while trying to find the last puzzle piece. I’ll be making my well loved chocolate blackberry cupcakes with caramel and cream cheese frosting and cracking into fresh crab, and embracing the sand in my toes. Peak summer.
Wishing you all ordinary days filled with delight.
Ash
You’ve been a busy 🐝! 📗
Loved the garden from the bee's point of view!
Lucky girl, the San Juans await you.
Have a wonderful summer!