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“Green” Party Planning and Going

Live Green has put together a short and simple list of suggestions for a greener holiday party.  Not throwing the party yourself and know your hosts will be using disposable cutlery, napkins, and cups?  I’ve been bringing my own napkin and carry cup to parties for years, just as I bring them on trips and around town.  Some people think it’s weird, but a surprising number comment that they think it is a great idea.  And people are always grateful when I bring a healthy, vegan or vegetarian food item as my offering for a potluck.

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    As I Read This Poem

    This morning, as I read this poem by Janet Hoffman, which is collected in Plain Living–A Quaker Path to Simplicity by Catherine Whitmire, I thought of friends and family and students and colleagues who are living with loss and illness and other struggles.

    I wish sometimes that I could heal or make happy everyone I know. Knowing that is not possible or even right, I wish for myself and those in need to know strength and courage and joy even when faced with causes for deep suffering.

    Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.

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    Robert’s Dendrobium

    roberts-dendrobium2A number of years ago, when he was moving from Capitol Hill to Denver, my friend and former neighbor Robert gave me this dendrobium orchid, which bloomed this year for me for the first time.  The dendrobium was just an extra.  If you know orchids, you can see that it is planted with a vanda.  These orchids came from Robert’s mother’s garden in Florida.  When she had to give up her place in Florida, Robert brought home some of the orchids, including the vanda.  If I know Robert, he just saw a baby dendrobium in the garden and stuck it in with the vanda when he carried it back north to Capitol Hill.  When Robert moved to Colorado, he left the vanda with me because he did not expect it to tolerate the Colorado climate.  Even here, the vanda is not likely to bloom.  Not enough heat, light, or humidity in DC (really!!!).  But after five or six years of steady care, the dendrobium flourished and finally bloomed.  Robert inspired my affection for orchids; he had a greenhouse and knew each one of his tropical plants intimately.  We would go to an orchid show or nursery, and he would look with love on each and every plant, cherishing their individual traits, no matter how small or large.  At the botanical gardens, he had different plants he visited and enjoyed.  Now his yard has cactii and peppers.  He has a few of his most faithful orchids, which are flourishing and which were delightful to visit, and I have this lovely reminder of a time when Robert was one of my local gardening buddies.  This, I think is one of the extra joys of gardening, especially with houseplants that come from cuttings.  They have a history with our family and friends that is passed on, cherished, and shared.  I also have a night-blooming cereus that was a baby from a plant that started as a baby of one in his mother’s garden.  The night mine first bloomed (just a single night in the year), the parent plant with Robert in Denver also bloomed.

    Bonus love from this particular dendrobium; it is scented!

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    Blossoms Around Town

    At lunchtime, I bumped into a co-worker from an office where I worked for a few year in the 1990s. We shared stories of our concerns and fears in these times, both as citizens and as Federal workers .  One of his daughters just graduated from U.V.A. Another is in grad school there, so they have lots of friends in Charlottesville. We went back to our respective offices, but it is hard to work. The weather was hot and thick with humidity, the gardens oblivious to current events (so far).

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    Sometimes

    After I have been working and studying intensely, I sometimes find myself called to lie underneath the cats and read fiction.  Just because it isn’t hard work, doesn’t mean I won’t find treasures that further my explorations.  This bit, for example:  “Then he felt his heart floating again, sunlit and serene, impossibly heavy, impossibly light; he felt the earth itself balanced on his outstretched finger.”  Patricia A. McKillip, Alphabet of Thorn.

     

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