The Kitchen Garden Novice Scraps Happy

So I've started my New Year's project to craft/scrap/stamp cards for Operation Write Home.  This was to be my outlet for creative flow this year. But...I've discovered something in the process. (Surprise, surprise.) It seems that I'm better at creating if I have a target recipient. I've been so accustomed to crafting each card with a specific individual in mind, that I found myself...well... stuck. What kind of greeting card would connect with a service man/woman deployed overseas enough for him/her to send to loved ones back home? What sort of individual might choose one of my little pieces of scrap art to keep in touch with friends and family? 

See what I mean about stuck? I was so seriously hung up on "who" I couldn't even begin to move on to "what."  We're talking serious creative constipation here. And that lead to even more introspective angst. Who was I to even presume that my little tokens of glib greeting card garbage might resonate with a soldier, a sailor, an airman, a marine?

Then I thought of the three kids I know who are serving in active duty. I thought of one of my daughter's friends, a marine in Afghanistan.  I thought of my nephew who is anticipating his first deployment in May.  And then I thought of my nephew, Nick, a lifer, in the Army Air Force. His specialty is training helicopter pilots. That's when my creative juice started bubbling spontaneously. It percolated as I rummaged through my stash to find long forgotten "flight" themed dazzles. It came to a full boil as I remembered the "just flying by" stamp I'd purchased ages ago. It simmered as I chose papers and complementary punch. And just that simply, my mojo was back. I was cookin'.

Will my next foray into card construction be as angst riddled? Probably. But I'll trust the Universe and my military models to motivate and guide me through.

The Kitchen Garden Novice Goes to Seed

Don't judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds that you plant.

Robert Louis Stevenson

I awoke at 4:45 am this morning with my brain firing like a pyrotechnic star burst. Maybe that's the wrong analogy. That makes it sound awe-inspiring. Not so much. The Universe had reprogrammed my brain during the night to "random shuffle." I hate it when that happens. I have so many ideas streaming through my consciousness; I don't know where to focus my attention.

Sleep? Forget it. I finally gave up at 6:00 and resigned myself to a scattered, albeit tired day ahead. Two cups of coffee later, my mind was still flitting from one project or intent to another. Should I start that new card for Operation Write Home? Or maybe begin a page in my heritage scrapbook?  I haven't touched it in months.  And I've been meaning to experiment with nutritional yeast to see if I can concoct a passable (and palatable) vegan cheese substitute.  So many ideas...such a short day. Maybe a walk with the dog would help to clear my mind.

Puppy and I set out on a marathon stroll. I began to softly sing as I wandered; Karen Drucker's soulful mantra became mine. "I am so blessed... I am so blessed... I am so grateful for all that I have..."

One hour later, as I unlocked the front door and dropped the keys on the kitchen table, my eye caught sight of the basil plant I have been tending and harvesting for the past year. All that remains of 2010's new years kitchen garden is one lonely stalk of basil. I reaped the rest for pesto and pasta dishes. Yet,  that one brave little stem stood tall with what appeared to be new growth. I looked closer. To my delight I realized the fragrant jewel was starting to flower. A year had passed, and this living creation had grown to maturity. She was ready to bear seed.

At that moment, a peculiar comfort struck me. It occurred to me I am a bit like that basil plant--gone to seed. I am blessed...to bear lots of seed, as evidenced by the stream of ideas and projects that called to me this morning. Yet unlike my brave little herb, I worry and stress over what to do with that seed. For the basil it is enough to create the seeds. She leaves their destiny to Mother Nature. It seems I could learn a few things from my sweet basil.

It matters not what seeds of creativity I choose to cultivate today; indeed, it matters not if I choose to cultivate any seeds at all. Should I die tomorrow, all of "my" creative energy would return to the Source, the Creator from which it was born. Nothing is lost. And that, my friends, is a life lesson from one living creature to another.

Anyone can cut an apple open and count the number of seeds.

But, who can look at a single seed and count the trees and apples?

Dottie Walters