bloom not doom 🌱🌱🌱!
an anti-inauguration plant-a-thon + are you heading to a writing conference in 2025? ++ a terrifying lemon tart +++ where to help in LA
hey-ho,
🥳 Today is my birthday and I’m so glad to be in your inbox! It delights me to know that I am connecting with you. Thank you!
…
Trudging around my neighborhood last week, worrying about the fires, about displaced people in LA, about the world after 20 January, a man paused on the sidewalk near me. He knelt in front of a ‘FREE’ houseplant someone had plunked on the curb. The man, bundled in scarf and hat, performed a thoughtful cost/benefit analysis, perhaps looking for infestations or new growth, perhaps hesitant to commit- being a man and all. (Joking/Not joking!).
Watching him brought to mind an organization here in Portland that gifts a houseplant to people transitioning from living outside to moving indoors. A plant in the house gives us something to care for and about. A spot of green on the kitchen table welcomes us at the end of a day. We’re keeping this plant alive!
The plant on the sidewalk made me think of the Naomi Shihab Nye poem, “Gate A-4” in which an older woman, non-english speaking, traveling alone, is terribly nervous about a flight change. The speaker of the poem notices that the frightened woman, whom she befriends, carries a small living thing.
And I noticed my new best friend—
by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag,
some medicinal thing, with green furry leaves. Such an old country tradi-
tion. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
Which brought to mind the beautiful Ross Gay mini-essay, “Tomato On Board” about all the kindnesses bestowed upon him when he boarded a flight with a tiny tomato plant! You can watch him read the essay here. And, I want to say, all the mini essays in his collection THE BOOK OF DELIGHTS, are indeed delightful.
What you don’t know until you carry a tomato seedling through the airport and onto a plane is that carrying a tomato seedling through the airport and onto a plane will make people smile at you almost like you’re carrying a baby. A quiet baby.
Dear Reader, the man did not take the plant, nor did I, though I thought about it. I regret my decision.
….
All the plant thoughts, how they root us and engender kindness, how they make a house a home, plus all the worries over our current situation, the fires and incoming amoral leaders, mingled in my mind. I began to consider how I want to spend 20 January. Certainly not in front of the TV. Someone I know is having a dance party! Which sounds amazing. Someone else sent me a care package complete with chocolate, a journal, and bath salts. (I know! So thoughtful and amazing.) Here is what I came up with:
Bloom not Doom 🌱🌱🌱.
We should all protest the incoming administration with an Anti-Inauguration Plant-A-Thon. Perhaps buy a plant from your local nursery, or mail order here. Maybe plant a bare root rose bush or something that will flower in the spring. Maybe a fruit tree, or peruse a seed catalogue and order seeds for your own summer tomatoes. Maybe, just maybe, you can have success growing a lemon tree indoors! We’re all going to need to take extra good care of ourselves, of each other, and of the earth. Let’s stake a small claim for beauty, for stewardship, and for the hope that comes with something green on the day we’re dreading.
What are you going to do to reach toward hope?
Are you a free subscriber looking for a way to say I enjoy your work, thank you! It’s easy… become a paid subscriber. I’d love that for both of us!
This month I will match all subscriptions with a donation to help out folks struggling in Los Angeles. I will be sending funds to:
Read:
Want more community in 2025? We have zoom r.w.e. book group! Every month we discuss a novel or memoir on a Sunday morning. For February we’re reading DIALOGUE WITH RISING TIDES, a poetry collection by my friend, the amazing poet, person, and publisher,
. Her poems are the perfect mix of gravitas and levity. Her eye is sharp, her language fresh and full of both curiosity and love. We are so lucky that she will be joining us to discuss her poems, her writing, and whatever else she wants to chat about!We’ll also be reading, HOUSEKEEPING, by Marilynne Robinson. Robinson ran the Iowa Writers’ Workshop for many years. She is a a deeply thoughtful and moral woman which appeals to me more than ever. If I can’t live in a moral world just now, I certainly want to read about one. Not a judgmental world, or a punitive world, or a world with a villain in charge, but a world in which humanity struggles and rises and comes out the other side with closer connections, with empathy, and maybe a little joy?
The book group is a perk for paid subscribers and let me tell you we are a lively bunch!
Go ahead, upgrade to paid and claim your spot. I hope to get to know you better!
write :
Do you have plans to attend a writing conference in 2025? They can be wonderfully invigorating. You’ll make new writing friends, feel connected to a larger community, perhaps you’ll put yourself in front of an agent, attend panels, learn about writers you’ve not heard of, learn about the publishing industry and bask in it all! And, conferences can also feel overwhelming, daunting and leave you feeling depleted and light in the wallet.
(If you’re a paid subscriber, I thank you! Keep reading. If you’re a free subscriber, know that behind the paywall I’ve got lots of considerations to help you find a conference that’s the best fit for you. I also share the dreaded yet delicious Lemon Tart. So, hop on board!)
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