Enough. Memories & Snow.

It's snowing.

It's snowing, again, in Helena, Montana.  Though this is my fourth or fifth snow since I've lived here, I can't help but stare out the window this Saturday morning and watch it fall.

Fall, accumulate, fall some more.

It's great to watch the snow fall; first, as little specs of frozen water, and  - soon -  these large flakes start falling.  It's still magical to me - in my 38th year of continued wonder - snow is still magical.

It dawned on me, as I sat by the window, that I did the very same thing - watched the snow fall - 18 years, ten months, and twenty-nine days ago.  I also watched the two loves of my life play in the snow, build a snowman, and have a snowball fight.

Memory is a funny thing.  I've mentioned this before, and consider it true, that our memories are a kaleidoscope of broken remembered, recalled, and real.  Sometimes we color recollection with undue bitterness - other times imaginary happiness -  but this morning's memory was an equal balance, a moment when I was just simply content.

I'll come back to that word in a bit - content.

January 1, 1996 - it snowed in Abilene, Texas.  I was close to seven months pregnant, sitting on the couch in the living room, watching my husband and daughter playing in the unexpected New Year's Day snow.  Hearing both of their laughter, her squeels of joy, his patient teaching - I held my hand on my tummy and let the moment consume me.   Meeting and knowing that now - without entry of future or past... I was truly content.

It has taken me a long time to learn that contentment is truly of the Divine.  We are often a society of more, of want, of continued desire.  Contentment is enough.  It's the cup just warm, a soup just seasoned, a touch just right.

Enough is living in the now.   No expectations - only the recognition of enough.

I found myself smiling this morning - wrapped in my memory and thankful for that opportunity.

Life has changed.  My goodness - a son born and grown, a daughter realizing her own wonder and life - letting go of a first love - to allow for the opportunity of the right love.

I am - today - amazingly content.  The snow is still falling, my coffee is wonderful - this now is just enough.

Much love -

Simone

Learning to Live in a Zero World

Tomorrow morning I will walk to work, just like I have since I moved to Montana.  Yet, tomorrow morning it will be zero degrees.  Zero.

This made me reflect on a few things that this Texas Transplant has learned living in this arctic paradise I now call home.

The closet by the front door is truly meant for coats, boots, and drawers filled with gloves, mittens, tuques, hats, and ear muffs.

Down vests did not go out of style with Marty McFly.  They are alive and well in Big Sky Country.  In fact, they're down-right toasty.

Radiators.  I questioned them, fiddled with the knobs, ... they are amazing.  Heats the house and warms mittens, tuques, and socks.

Warm socks are heavenly.

Really, really heavenly.

Boots - Good boots - are not alway the prettiest - but man, oh, man - no water, snow, or puddle will breach these babies.

And you can actually take out the felt liners to wash.

Wonderful.

Say it with me...

"YakTraks."

You read that right.  YakTraks.

All of you wonderful people fearful of a broken leg, ankle, arm, ... or any other part of my body (Diane, Athena, Kim, Bob... everyone...) ... These amazing things strap on to the bottom of my shoes - and ... well, I don't fall.

Where have these been all my life?

Homemade soups and stews have never tasted so good.

In fact, chicken and dumplings are officially my new favorite.

Texts from people I love!  

Especially texts keeping me plugged in to my local weather...

... and your local weather.

(Rebbeca is Rebecca - I'm just too tickled with it this way to change it...)

My daily glance of your weather.

And my weather.

But mostly what I've learned living in this frozen wonderland is this...

I am living my brand new adventure - it's beautiful and it makes me smile so often because I am joy-filled.  In awe of this windswept snow magic, the mountains, the people - so much to learn, to see, to do.  Best give it my honest effort and embrace it fully.

I miss you.  All of you.

Love - lots of it.

(Returning to my book and hot cider)

- Simone

A Little Grass - A Big Problem

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge - you might not know the name of the author, but likely you've heard this line, "Water, water every where, nor any drop to drink..."

Growing up in West Texas, I appreciated early on the importance of rain.  Now living in Montana, having streams, lakes, rivers and rain in what seems to be abundance, I appreciate more and more the value of water.

This got me to thinking - about a conversation with my friend Rebecca.  Simply - it's a pet-peeve of mine that borders on being judgmental.  I apologize in advance for the tone this writing will take.

Lawns.  Lawns bother me.  A lot.

Let's start with some history from the National Wildlife Federation:

"The history of the lawn in America has its roots, so to speak, in the English country estate, where lawns provided sweeping vistas enjoyed by the aristocracy and were mowed and fertilized by flocks of sheep. Beginning in the 19th century, however, suburban Americans took to lawns like fish to water—and both fish and water have been adversely impacted ever since."

Let me give you some statistics to mull over:

• The average homeowner will spend 50 to 100 hours a year maintaining their lawn (but only 35 hours a year having sex!)
• 10 times more herbicides per acre are dumped on lawns than on fields of agribusiness
• Per acre, it costs more to maintain a lawn than it does to grow corn, rice, or sugarcane. More than 40 billion dollars (!!!) are spent on lawns in North America - more than we spend on text books for school classrooms.
• 7,500 Americans are injured every year using lawn mowers, about the same number as firearms.  Most of those accidents involve children.  More than 30% of these injuries resulted in an amputation of some sort - limbs and digits gone in the pursuit of green!
• 50-70 percent of residential water is used for landscaping - most to water lawns - which total approximately 20-30 million acres in the United States.
• A gas powered lawnmower emits 11 times the air pollution of a new car.

Any minimal amount of research shows how lawns (and our continued pursuit of a perfect lawn) is damaging our rivers, lakes, streams - and equally damaging needed birds, bees, and other local wildlife.

But we continue to do this - we continue to pay and toil away at unnatural grasses in areas that were never meant to support such water consuming ground cover.

Gardens.  What happened to gardens?  Vegetation that proved magical in growth and amazing in their ability to support our physical needs - gardens were instrumental in teaching children and provided families with a most cost effective means of nutrition.  

Maybe one day, we'll stop trying to match the Jones' and get back to the land as it was meant to be - unmanicured in most instances - and real.  Local grasses, wild flowers, a utopia for the local wildlife and insects that carried our lands through hundreds of years.  

Quite possibly, people who are consumed with "healthy living" will realize that it's not just your body or your food that you need to consider while in this pursuit of "health"... it's also the world you're creating.  Consider xeriscaping, maybe box gardens - enjoy the outdoors as it wants (and was meant) to be.

And that - my dear ones - is my rant on lawns.  

Good day and much love.

- Simone

(P.S. - Might I recommend: http://www.sunset.com/garden/earth-friendly/lose-the-lawn-low-water-landscaping ... or... http://www.wildflowers-and-weeds.com/ ...)