Success

Daily writing prompt
What’s your top tip to be successful in life?

There are two ways to be successful in life. The first is to decide what being successful means to you, then focus on what will get you there. If being successful means being in a loving relationship, then prioritize that, don’t be distracted by what others think being successful means. If being successful means raising healthy and happy children, don’t give up time with them for other pursuits that might interfere, though sometimes, admittedly, what interferes is the need to make enough money to support those children. If being successful means making a ton of money, then go after it, but don’t be surprised when you find that other parts of your life aren’t as satisfying. If being successful means being a good person, following one’s faith, or doing simple acts of kindness, then that’s what you focus on.

Of course, just because you go after something doesn’t mean you will succeed at it, so this brings me to the second way of being successful — being grateful for what you have and what you have accomplished. Enjoying the moment. Celebrating your good fortune and accepting that you did what you could. And not comparing yourself to others. What you might see as their success, they might not. In fact, they might be comparing themselves to you, thinking you are the successful one.

When I became a writer, I hoped for success, which at the time meant being a self-supporting writer, selling enough books to make a living wage so I could write more books. Unfortunately, I didn’t succeed at being self-supporting, but I did succeed at writing. I wrote nine books, all of which were published. That I was not successful at promoting those books does not mitigate the success of having written all those words, told those stories, offered a helping hand to people who have lost a spouse or a child.

Just the other day, a woman came up to me to tell me she’d bought two copies of Grief: The Inside Story, one for her sister who had lost her husband and one for herself so she could understand what her sister was going through. It was due to the comfort offered in my book as well as the explanation of the mechanics of grief, that helped the sister finally sleep through the night, which, if you don’t know, is a big step for grievers. Also, the woman who bought the books was able to support her sister, letting her sister grieve as she needed to, without urging her to “get over it.” She had tears in her eyes as she thanked me for what I had given them.

So . . . . success. Yes? No? Well, the book did not solve my financial woes as I’d hoped, but oh, my, having truly helped someone who needed it? That is success. Maybe it’s even a more profound success than making money — to those two women, it certainly was.

So, in short, decide what success means to you, focus on what you need to do to achieve that success, and then celebrate whatever success comes your way, even if it comes in a way you never envisioned.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

True Magic

I mentioned yesterday that it had suddenly struck me with amazement — again — that I was living in such a beautiful place.

And the same feeling struck me again today.

It makes sense why I feel so grateful and so blessed; I live in a truly magical place. I was out working in the yard today — overdoing it as usual — and for a change, I stopped to rest on my pretty bench because I was too tired to drag myself to a chair under the gazebo.

I sat there musing about my magic place. A few seeds, a few plants, some water, and suddenly, there it is — a magnificent yard, with views on every side. (Not suddenly, not really, but as the saying goes, nothing happens then everything happens.)

I’m not being ingenuous. When I moved here, there wasn’t much but weeds, dirt, and a rotting garage, so obviously I did a lot of work, but still, isn’t it magic? I didn’t really have anything to do with the plants sprouting from seed and then growing and having babies, and all of them showing off for me. I gave them the space and opportunity to do what they needed to do, but the rest was them. All the intelligence they needed to know what to do was in them, packed in a tiny kernel of information. I could only marvel at their cleverness at being able to do all the real work.

It’s a good thing they know how to come to life because I don’t. Putting the seeds and started plants in soil and watering what doesn’t die is about all I know how to do.

And apparently, it’s enough. Because sitting there, I saw a whole lot of beauty.

To the right of the garage is the gazebo, of course, and the raised garden, filled with petunias and a whole lot of moss rose that planted itself. There are also dozens of marigolds that decided they wanted to join the petunias and moss rose, but I am thinning those and transplanting them elsewhere.

In front of the bench where I am sitting and to the left of the garage is . . . well, all I can call it is a mini park. Toward the back are the four food plants I just put into the ground as well as a patch of wildflower seeds. Behind the bushes, the lily forest is growing so very tall. One lily towers over me! With any luck, I’ll be seeing flowers in a couple of weeks.

And peeking from behind the bushes, along the fence, are the hollyhocks that planted themselves.

True magic.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

 

Loyal Subscribers

Daily writing prompt
How do you build loyal subscribers?

I find it interesting that most of these blog prompts have nothing to do with me, such as today’s prompt about building loyal subscribers. I have no idea how to build loyalty, have no idea if anyone has even subscribed to my blog. I do know a few friends get my blog by email, which isn’t really fair — they get to keep up with me on a daily basis, and I don’t know what’s going on with them. You’d think they’d be kind enough to reciprocate with their own blog, wouldn’t you? (I’m being facetious. If I want to know what’s going on with them, I could simply call, and I don’t, so who’s the one who isn’t being fair?)

Actually, according to WordPress, I do have some subscribers, and a few more have subscribed in the past few days, so thank you for subscribing!

As for building loyalty — apparently, somewhere along the line I have done so since I see many of the same names in comments and “likes,” but as I’ve mentioned before, I have no idea why anyone reads what I write, though I do appreciate everyone who does. It makes blogging seem so much less like throwing a tiny penlight out into the great darkness of the unknown and more like connecting with friends.

There are some people who have been with me almost from the beginning — starting from the time I wrote about writing, then tumbling into the whole morass of grief with me, and still showing up now that my posts range from stream of consciousness to gardening. Truly, hands across the nations! (Did I mention how grateful I am for you? Well, it bears repeating.)

I might not know how to purposely build a following, but I know how not to build subscribers by the millions — don’t be controversial. Almost all people who garner those sorts of numbers and that sort of loyalty do so by talking about things that gets people emotional, and I don’t want to do that. I know how a lot of my readers think, and I’d just as soon not get into discussions that either get my ire up or theirs. (And I don’t like to have to think of tactful ways of saying I disagree, so I don’t.)

Another way not to build loyal subscribers is to not show a bias because bias automatically gives people a connection to you. It’s almost impossible not to show a bias, and I’m sure mine shows occasionally, though my bias tends to be for irony and intelligence and truth-seeking rather than for any movement or ideology. And I have a definite bias against hypocrisy, emotion that passes as fact, and regimentation of thought. I spent most of my life around people who loved to force people to think their way, so I became adept at changing midstream partly to keep the peace and partly because I didn’t care enough either way to argue the point.

But then, can anyone tell if they are really bias-free? I’m not sure. It seems ingrained so that a biased person acts as if their bias is the truth rather than simply their way of seeing the truth. Case in point: one popular quasi news show has been bleeding viewers because a lot of people don’t like its far-left liberal slant, and all the journalists on the show profess to have no idea there is a slant — they thought they were being impartial.

Seems like a good idea for me to keep keeping away from controversial topics — that way I can keep my bias to myself. And I can keep the readers I have rather than trying to grow a larger subscriber’s list, which I don’t know how to do anyway.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

As Old Fashioned as a Hollyhock

There are a lot of topics I stay away from mostly because . . . well, because I don’t welcome backlash. I’m just too sensitive. But sometimes a topic keeps staring at me, which makes it impossible not to face it. For example, every time I opened my internet browser the past couple of days, I had Google reminding me about pride month (small letters are my subtle rebellion), which reminds me that the only group in the whole country that’s not allowed to be proud are whites. If you’re proud to be white, then you’re automatically a white supremacist. According to some people, simply being white means you’re a white supremacist, which is utterly ridiculous. (And so is the term “white privilege,” now that I’m on my soapbox. It used to be that certain minority groups were considered under privileged, but that terminology, which was deemed racist, was replaced by “white privilege,” which is racist in a whole other way.) And why are whites so despised? We might not yet be the minority in western countries, but we are perhaps only 10% of the entire world population and destined to decline even further.

I’m not proud of being white, but not in any sort of apologetic way for crimes my ancestors never committed or crimes I am supposed to have committed simply for being born the way I am. I’m not proud because why would anyone be proud of the way they were born? It’s not something we could choose. It’s not something we did. It’s not something that took courage. It’s not something we earned. It’s simply who we are. Pride used to be a sin. Now it’s — apparently — something to celebrate.

I looked up the definition of “pride” in my actual book dictionary, printed before “diversity” was a thing, and pride is (or at least it used to be before the word was redefined) “Conceit. Disdainful behavior. Ostentatious display. A justifiable self-respect.” In other words, pride is not good unless you did something to earn your self-respect. (Or perhaps it’s just an excuse for that “ostentatious display” as the dictionary defined it?) But then, as I’m finding out, I’m terribly old-fashioned with old-fashioned values. I suppose I could be proud of that, but it’s not something to be proud about because it’s not something I earned. It’s just who I am.

I am proud of my writing skills — that is something I earned, something I worked hard for. I am proud of my blog, because it takes a certain discipline to keep a project going for almost twenty years. I am proud of being kind (mostly kind, anyway). I am proud of opening up and telling the truth about grief and dealing with the absence of a deceased spouse or life mate. I am proud of the work I’ve done on my yard, though I’m not necessarily proud of being a gardener, because the truth is, a garden does what a garden wants to do. (As I discovered again today. Years ago, I tried to plant a hollyhock garden, but it died and no other seeds ever grew. Until now. Apparently, the garden decided it wants hollyhocks.) I’m sort of proud of being a good photographer, but the photos are more from an excellent camera as well as the instinctual sense of artistry I was born with.

But being proud (or not proud) simply for of sake of pride? I don’t understand that. But then, I did say I was old-fashioned. As old fashioned as a hollyhock, actually.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

 

Decision, Decisions

During the past fifteen years or so, I’ve had to make a lot of decisions. Life and death type decisions. (Other people’s deaths, my continued life.) Decisions such as how to get through the next minute, hour, year. Decisions such as where to go, what to do.

My decisions today are trivial compared to those decisions that had such far-reaching consequences. In fact, these current decisions don’t really have any close-reaching consequences, either. I suppose in the long run, today’s decisions could have consequences since almost everything does, but anything that might come from these decisions is more a matter of taste and perspective than anything else.

For example, some of the flowers I planted in my raised garden a couple of years ago went to seed, and those flowers did well and they too eventually went to seed and filled in around the vegetables I planted last year. Since I can never count on any seed sprouting, instead of simply watering the raised garden and seeing what would happen, I planted petunias. Shortly afterward, a huge number of seedlings from previous plantings appeared. I hoed them under, not wanting them to compete with the petunias, but then another crop of seedling appeared.

Some of these seedlings are grass, I think, and those I can get rid of as soon as I know for sure. Others are marigolds and still others are moss roses. One decision to make is if I want the orange from the marigolds to break up my color scheme of pale yellow, bright pink, and dark red petunias. Another is if I should just let the seedlings do what they want, and if they end up interfering with my artistic sense, I can transplant the mature marigolds into empty garden spots. Or I could eventually move the petunias. Or I could . . .

See? Decisions. Decisions.

I’m not one for making decisions anymore, not that I ever was. By the time I look at every side of an issue or a problem, I usually come to the conclusion that either way has its good and bad points and makes no difference which I choose, which ends in a decision-making stalemate. (If there’s a major benefit to one point of view, then obviously there’s no decision to make. It’s the evenly balanced choices that get to me every time.)

Luckily, I don’t have to decide anything. I can wait to see what happens, but I also know that once the plants take hold, I won’t want to get rid of them. Transplant them, yes. Treat them as weeds, no.

Meantime, there are plenty of other things to do in the yard, things that need no decisions made about them. Well, that’s not true. The cottage pinks in the wildflower garden need a “haircut,” but do I do it now or wait until they’ve gone to seed? Or do I do it now and leave a few stalks to go to seed. More decisions!

I know one thing that doesn’t need any decisions made about it. In fact, I completely forgot about this dwarf evening primrose until I saw it in my predawn watering cycle.

Luckily, I don’t have to do anything about any of this today. Tomorrow can take care of itself.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

 

Garden Update

After the thrill of seeing what plants return from their winter hiatus comes the payback. A seedy garden. Not seedy as in disreputable or sleazy. Literally seedy. As in going to seed.

There are still a few columbines blooming, particularly the bright late-blooming ones, but the blue/purple columbines are already past their first bloom and are going to seed.

The orange wallflower stopped blooming, and the larkspur, always a joy in their purple majesty, are also going to seed. The snapdragons are still blooming, and might continue to bloom throughout the summer, but the first blossoms are going to seed. One of the few flowers brightening the snapdragon garden is this single California poppy that came from who knows where.

If I were a real gardener with a show-piece garden, I’d be pulling up the seedy annuals and deadheading the perennials, but being an amateur who’s just winging it, I let all the plants go to seed, though perhaps I will deadhead the snapdragons if I get the inclination because at the moment, a lot of the plants look terrible. Mostly, I let the seeds scatter where they will; others I harvest in case there comes a year when the larkspur and other colorful spring growers decide not to come back. Also, it’s great to have seeds to share.

The seedy part of the garden is only half the story. Other plants are coming into their own, such as the cottage pinks, which come in various shades from white to fuchsia.

The various penstemon are also starting to bloom, though this bright pink one is already in full bloom. The penstemon and the cottage pinks sure do complement each other.

The cheerful coreopsis are just beginning their summer odyssey. It’s no mystery why they look like yellow daisies — though of different genera, both belong to the Asteraceae (Aster) family.

The following is one of my favorite photos so far this year. I love the juxtaposition of those primary colors: the yellow snapdragons, the bright red firecracker penstemon and the last of the larkspur. Even better, each of those three plants is a miracle. Around here, snapdragons are a tender perennial, mostly coming back by reseeding themselves, but this year, the plants themselves survived the winter. The larkspur self-seeded, and while the penstemon didn’t self-seed, it came from a seed that had been planted years before and somehow decided this was the time to grow.

As always, the lawn is an issue — although the highest temperatures so far have only been in the nineties, low humidity and sun intensity have been drying out the grass, but so far, except in patches, it’s doing well.

In a couple of weeks, after I harvest the larkspur seeds and pull up the dead stalks, a whole other layer of plants will be revealed. Luckily, there’s always something new to keep my interest that makes the vast amount of work worthwhile.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Garden Stroll Part Two

I’ve been posting more this year about what’s growing in my yard because . . . well, because this year there’s more growing in my yard. So, come stroll with me, and I’ll show you some of what is giving me so much pleasure.

In the very middle of the above photo, is a pretty blend of colors — pink ice plant, blue flax, orange wallflower. And lots of green!

Come summer, these plants will bloom with purple magus echinacea, yellow coreopsis, daisies, and cottage pinks, but for now, I’m enjoying those healthy-looking plants.

In the middle far left of that same top photo, is a splash of pink ice plant. The picture doesn’t do it justice — as you can see, the ice plant forms a solid mat of gorgeous blooms. (All of that from two plants I bought a few years ago!)

Behind me, as I’m standing taking these photos, is my hens and chicks garden.

It’s hard to see the detail because some of the plants seem to blend with the ground, but as you can (maybe) see, there are three colors of succulent: purple, bright green, and dull green. The entire garden of hen and chicks came from five dull green plants, two bright green and one purple.

One of the many miracles of gardening is how you can get many plants from one.

Yesterday, I’d planned to get the petunias and other plants I need for my containers and to fill out empty spots in the garden areas, but there’s a chance for a freeze in the next few days, so I’m playing it safe. But still, there’s plenty to show off on this garden stroll. Thank you for walking with me!

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

 

Warm Flowers for Cool Days

It’s a dark and chilly day here. Grey clouds laden with moisture hang overhead but not a single raindrop falls. This seems like the perfect time to post a few flower photos from the warm end of the spectrum. I doubt they will do anything to brighten the day outside, but they will certainly brighten my day inside where it counts.

I planted firecracker penstemon seeds three years ago, but it took two years for a few of the seeds to germinate. By the time those few seeds germinated, I’d forgotten all about them and thought they were weeds. Luckily, I realized they weren’t weeds in time to save the last plant. I didn’t know what it was until it flowered. I’m certainly glad I managed to save this last plant.

Now I’m hoping that it reseeds itself. Anything that takes hold in this climate is worth allowing to spread since so many plants that like our winters don’t like our summers and vice versa.

The snapdragons weren’t grown from seed, but they, too are a surprise because normally, although they do reseed themselves, they don’t survive the winter. And yet here they are, still a week before planting season in these parts, blooming cheerily.

Columbine, like firecracker penstemon, seem to take a couple of years to germinate, at least, this one did. It was grown from seed at the same time as the penstemon and took as long to flower.

This is an interesting columbine — not just the color, but the size. It’s about half the size of the others in my yard. Still, though small, the vibrant color gives them as much panache as their larger relatives.

I hope these flowers have brightened your day. They sure did brighten mine!

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Pleasing My Eyes

The recent frost did more damage than I originally thought. Although the plum blossoms made it through that first night, they soon turned brown and dropped off the branches. It’s what I expected, but still, it’s a bit disappointing. The lily tree forest was also more damaged than it first seemed — more brown than was first apparent — but I still think there should be plenty of lily flowers come July.

I took a few photos when I was out watering this morning. These irises aren’t mine; they are growing in my next-door neighbor’s yard, though they might as well be mine since there’s no one else to see them. It amuses me to think that I spend so much time outside watering and grooming my yard, and his totally unkempt (well, not totally — he does mow the weeds a couple of times during the summer) and completely unwatered yard yields these majestic flowers.

Then there is this photo of a columbine that planted itself. On my phone, the picture was perfect, the color the lovely purple of the plant itself, but when I uploaded it to my computer, it turned blue. Must be the difference when the P3 wide gamut space on my phone was converted to the standard sRGP for web display. I have no idea what that means, but that’s the answer I got when I Googled, “Why is the color different when uploading a picture from my phone. So that’s why, instead of the original purple, you see a blue columbine. Or maybe you see a different color? Purple maybe? Or orchid?

Another photo I took doesn’t do justice to what I wanted to memorialize. I’d just finished watering the lilac bushes when I noticed water drops clinging to the denuded flower stems. In the morning sun, those long-past-their-prime lilacs glittered like crystal. It was an awesome sight!

This last photo was a surprise. I must have pushed the button as I was walking away from those lilacs toward my gazebo, because this photo showed up on my phone. I loved the colors, especially the blue of the sky, so I kept it. (In the interest of honesty, I have to admit I skewed the photo from the original slanted image to get this version, but otherwise, the phone did it all on its own.)

A lot of plants are showing their first shy blossom, such as the larkspur and the cottage pinks, so perhaps I’ll have different garden photos to show in a few days.

Until then, I have these photos to please my eyes, and perhaps yours, too.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

How Does My Garden Grow

A friend left a comment yesterday saying that the pictures of flowers I’ve been posting are inspiring her to plant more. I understand that — they’re inspiring me, too. Last year I had little interest in my yard. The work-to-result ratio just didn’t seem worth it, but this year, so far, the gardens are doing great, with bits of color popping up all over.

The freezes we had a couple of nights this week didn’t do much damage, just burned the edges of some leaves, but I don’t think it will affect the flowers this summer. Luckily, the snapdragons I planted late last spring turned out to be hardy enough to survive the winter as well as these freezes, so I’m much further ahead with that gardening area than expected. Look at all those buds!

Columbines are still going strong, and this self-seeder seems to be enjoying the companionship of other flowers.

A new volunteer has shown up — blue flax! They might have been in a package of wildflower seeds or been blown in, but the reason doesn’t matter, just the enjoyable fact that are here.

Oh, don’t let me forget the star of Bethlehem! They’re easy to forget because they don’t bloom until the afternoon around here, but so dainty and pristine!

The ice plants flowers are starting to bloom, adding more cheerful ground color to the garden.

The wild roses surrounding the raised garden seem to be waiting for May, when I can plant whatever it is I am going to put in that planter. Dwarf zinnia seeds, maybe?

Ah, May! The fifth of May, to be exact. That’s historically the last day of a possible frost around here, so that’s when I plan on getting petunias to plant in my containers and whatever catches my eye to fill in a few empty spots.

Until then, I’ll continue to appreciate my yard and try to find satisfaction in a job well done even if I don’t always enjoy the work.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.