Archives for June 3, 2011

   Yes, this is a real word. 

   Defined by Webster anthropomorphism is, “an interpretation of what is not human or personal in terms of human or personal characteristics.  (Humanization)”  The word is believed to have first been used during the 18th century, not long before the Victorian era of studying animals became super cool, trendy, and fruitful.

   An easy way to wrap your head around this is to think of whether animals have feelings, personalities, etc, any of the things which make the HUMAN animal, well, human.  Remember this is an interpretation, even less scientific than science already is.  Professional and philosophical views on this are all over the map!  What do you think?  Where do we delineate between the rest of Kingdom Animalia and ourselves?

   Two books I have read are excellent resources here.



Studied this in senior English.

At a Catholic high school,

so please don’t prematurely 

freak out about the curriculum of evolution. 

xoxoxo

I checked this out at the library.

I am not positive it has been returned.

What is the maximum fine again?



   Being the very happy every day caretaker of upwards of 36 animals on our crazy little farm, I confidently assert that animals have personalities, moods, thought processes, emotions, you name it!  

   They respond to hormones and instincts, sure; but they also respond to language, tone, affection, social arrangements, and age.  Our parrot in particular is a really good judge of character.  And our black mare is so aware of her physical beauty that she displays pride.  Real, shameful, sinful pride.  On the other hand, she is an excellent mother.

   In this country’s pet-having culture, really, who would dare argue that animals are individuals?  Where things get dicey is at the mention of soul.  And sin, like with Daphne’s pride.

   And this is exactly the intersection where we need answers.  Do all dogs go to heaven?  What assurances should we be offering little kids when they say goodbye?  Especially if you have chosen a Bible path, what do you say?  What do you believe?  And how does this affect your mode of animal discipline?  Yikes. 

   Today is more a day of questions for me than answers.  I want to get a grip on this once and for all.  Please jump in!  



  

  “The best fertilizer is the gardener’s shadow.” 

 

   Do you recall any summer days gone past that were soured with the discovery of a veggie bed overtaken by weeds or some beetle-eaten roses?  Or has your garden ever been neglected to the point of complete dehydration?  Yes for me, on all three counts. 

These are snow pea vines surrounded by grass and weeds.

   But these are totally avoidable disasters.  I would venture to say that most horticultural maladies can be solved with little more than regular, unbridled attention from a person who loves all things green.  Maybe that person is you.

   Growing up, we were fortunate to live nearby and therefore spend a lot of time with our maternal grandparents, both of whom were avid gardeners.  I think back on their bent posture, their wardrobe, their loving habits, and their breathtaking results, and I know in my heart that they enjoyed every aspect of the art.  Sure wish I had some photos of their old cottage gardens to share.

   Grandma & Grandpa Stubbs were not overtly religious to my memory, but based on their meditative devotion to their multiple rooms of paradise, I feel like they were in touch with something gratifyingly spiritual.

   Who can coax seeds into flower beds

or a dinner salad and not sense divinity? 

Our first batch of red potatoes grown two years ago.  DELISH.

Spicy, crunchy radishes.  So much fun to pluck out of the ground.

And check out those colors!

   They both worked full time office hours (or more) at the family lamp manufacturing business Village Art Lamps and retreated I would guess five or six days a week to the outdoors, all year long. 

   We enjoyed fresh vegetables.  We played in mammoth, fluffy hedges of lemon mint (that concealed the humming air condenser in summertime).  We ate grapes right off the vine near the Elephant Tree. 

 
   It wasn’t really a dead elephant like the grown-ups told us, I remember noticing one day at the ripe old age of maybe six.  But danged if it didn’t look like one!  This was a turning point.  The beginning of my personal enlightenment.

   They sweated and groaned and took lots of iced tea breaks.  Grandma used this very nifty artificial sweetener in a slender glass bottle with a push button dispenser on top.  I loved that thing.  And I loved that she gave me unlimited access to its contents.  (Maybe this explains my adult obsession with diet cola?)

   They rested and looked out at their progress.  They played with us.  They chatted with our parents.  Then they started working again.  Grandpa to this day calls it “putzing around” in the garden, belying the very present element of hard labor, especially for an eighty three year old man.

Blossom #1 on our peach tree, year #2.

   My point is that they always worked in their garden; they stayed there, they didn’t visit twice a week expecting auto pilot to have magically kicked in.  And they enjoyed not just the results but also the process.  They seemed to thrive as much on the food and flowers as they did on the toil itself. 

   As a self centered little girl I was just happy they talked to me so much while I played there under that fragrant Mimosa tree.  Looking back at that scene now, I realize how I learned from them to be patient with little ones.  To not take my “work” too seriously to enjoy the distractions, causing me to miss at least half of the blessing of being a gardener. 

   If you are growing anything right now, keep it up.  Stay in that outdoor room as much as possible, looking, touching, smelling, pruning, watering, tucking in, protecting, feeding, harvesting, just generally putzing around. 

   The more attention you lavish on your Eden, the more lovely it is bound to be.  And the more you enjoy doing so, the greater your cumulative reward. 
   Oh, and if you have your own gardening Grandparents, give them some hugs asap.

 “He who loves a garden
  still his Eden keeps,
  Perennial pleasures plants,
  and wholesome harvest reaps.”