“Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies.”
– Mother Teresa
It’s a gloomy overcast day here this morning and we’re expected to get storms tomorrow. When I took the dogs out I was admiring this pretty little viola that popped up in the yard, right at the edge of my patio. I planted viola seeds in a plastic container in 2022:
Last winter and now this winter, I’ve got violas popping up here and there near my patio. I spotted a few more viola plants growing on the other side of my patio a few days ago, but they haven’t bloomed yet.
This past summer I was sick several times and after a bout of COVID I had lingering fatigue and got winded very easily. I talked to my cardiologist about this and he ran some tests and his advice was to walk and move as much as I can. While spending too much time sitting around last summer, I didn’t work enough in my summer garden and although I did plant a few things for a winter garden, I neglected them.
The bigger thing was I was neglecting my health by not forcing myself to move more. I’ve been pushing myself to do more moving and stretching and a few daily exercises, but most of all I’ve been trying to work on my mindset and attitude.
With the three cherry tomato plants I stuck on my back porch/sun room for the winter, well two look pretty sad despite regular watering and plant food, but one is growing and producing bigger cherry tomatoes now.
Small steps matter, but often we focus on big and lofty dreams or compare ourselves to what other people do or have rather than appreciate or utilize what we have or can do. Picking a few cherry tomatoes to toss on my salad in January feels good and while, like that little viola blooming, it’s just a small thing, well, it makes me feel hopeful. A small 10 oz. container of cherry tomatoes at my local Walmart Neighborhood Market is $2.98. I keep leaf lettuce growing year-round now, in an Aerogarden that was a Mother’s Day gift a couple years ago.
Last month, my son, came across this shoe box in one of my closets. I have been trying to sift through closets and get rid of some things. I hadn’t seen this shoe box in many years, despite looking for it many times. Some of the seeds are from the late 90s, while most are from the early 2000s. I noticed many are unopened seed packets from 2004. A lot of life happened between 2004 and 2022. I had uterine cancer and an uncommon type of ovarian cancer in 2003 and after surgery and radiation treatments, I wanted to get back to planting a garden. I was working fulI-time and although I planted a few things over the years, it wasn’t until 2022, that I made up my mind to attempt a small container garden effort. It turned into a bit more than I had planned.
Rather than just toss out all these old seeds, I decided that I’m going to pick out a few packs of seeds and sow them heavily and see if any grow. Of course, I am also planting fresh seeds and browsing through seed catalogs too. If even one plant from those old seeds grows and produces well, I can save seeds from that for next year. I think that small effort is better than tossing all these old seeds in the trash.
Burpee seeds definitely aren’t 97 cents now, like in 2004… This shoe box of seeds is sort of like a time capsule.
Pansies are part of the Viola genus, but what I planted a couple years ago are a smaller viola hybrid. Back in 2013, I wrote, The pansies smiling at you, about a feisty old German woman, who worked in lawn and garden at our local Walmart. Renate despised me when I first went to lawn and garden as the department manager, but I made it a goal that I was going to find common ground with her somehow and work with her. It was a challenge, but eventually we became friends and she started calling me, “My Sue.” It’s taken me a long time, but this dreary morning when I stood on my patio and admired this tiny viola, I finally saw pansies smiling at me.
libertybelle diaries 