Susan Palmer's Exquisite Now

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  • The forgiving garden

    Winter was hard on the rue, which looks begraddled. The deer have munched away on the rugosa rose, which nevertheless is spreading on suckers and looks a little crazy. The artemesia was a knobbly mess till I cut it back. Sow bugs and slugs munched the rising shoots of the calla lilies. The weeds, of course, thrived.

    Still, my little spiral garden of mostly herbs and deer resistant perennials doesn’t look half bad on a sunny morning, despite my winter and early spring neglect.

    It’s a good reminder that a little bit of work (in this case, a couple hours of weeding and sweeping) can make a big difference.

    Here’s what’s blooming on the shady side: sweet woodruff (the plant in the banner picture at the top of my page) the corydalis in pots on the front step, the bleeding heart, the Mexican organge. Soon the rose campion will be blooming electric pink, and iris buds burst open.

    Part of gardening is knowing what can survive my sporadic ministrations.

  • Ashley Judd and the crime of aging

    Apparently, those who follow celebrities have been talking trash about actress Ashley Judd’s face. From what I recollect of her movies, she has a lovely face. Miffed by the ridiculous focus in the celebrity reporting realm on the apparent puffiness of her face and what it says about our culture, she wrote a little something for The Daily Beast to rant against this dangerous obsession with the perfect female figure.

    I think she’s a fine actress, a lovely woman and an OK writer (tip to Ms. Judd: never ever use the world “promulgate.” Even the people who know what it means really don’t like it that much), but she said something in her piece that I really liked. Here it is:

    “I do not, for example, read interviews I do with news outlets. I hold that it is none of my business what people think of me. I arrived at this belief after first, when I began working as an actor 18 years ago, reading everything. I evolved into selecting only the “good” pieces to read. Over time, I matured into the understanding that good and bad are equally fanciful interpretations. I do not want to give my power, my self-esteem, or my autonomy, to any person, place, or thing outside myself. I thus abstain from all media about myself.”

    I’m so on board with that. But it’s difficult to keep myself from being spun by other people’s opinions. Believing in one’s own worth, appreciating but not embracing praise, hearing but letting go of criticism. That’s a worthy goal.

    Note to self: Try not to envy Judd for her face, puffy or otherwise.

  • Failure is an option

    I blogged in January, that 2012 would be my year of finishing undone projects. I blogged in February that if I expected to finish anything, I should probably make a list. Now here I am in April, and I’ve made very little progress on anything other than setting up my gorgeous new planted aquarium.

    Which was not on the list.

    I could trot out some of my favorite aphorisms to inspire myself to do better. Journey of 1,000 miles begins with the first step. Definition of crazy is doing the same thing and expecting different results. Etc.

    Or perhaps, I could look more deeply at why I say I want to finish these projects but then fail to take the steps to completion.

    I don’t need to finish my novel. I don’t think the world is pining for it.

    I don’t need to lose 20 pounds. I weigh 160, and the world’s not going to confiscate my privileges if I stay 160 pounds.

    I could leave my mosaic projects undone forever. The only fallout from that is that when people visit the house and see exposed wallboard where window sill should be, they probably wonder about me. But honestly, I think people wonder anyway, regardless of what you do.

    On the other hand, I have a high-stress job in an industry in turmoil (journalism), so if I write good stories on deadline, treat my family with a reasonable amount of respect, and generally keep my yard up enough that the neighbors don’t call the city on me, haven’t I fulfilled my obligations?

    Couldn’t I cut myself a little slack?

    I don’t know. I do want more, but I can’t figure out what to do next.