Drama . . .

That's perhaps the best way to describe my life right now, and you'd learn more about it, but it goes against those rules I created for my blog when I went dark, so that's not happening.

Ergo, here's the first of Grandma's Posts. She and I had about six months where we emailed every day, and she had some amazing words of wisdom. Turns out, some of them are resonating with me these days. Amazing woman, she was; she died several years ago. She was 1/2 Chickasaw Indian, and her dad's name for her was Tawanka. I'm not sure what it meant, but I'll see if I can find out.

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(January 2, 1999)

Nothing is so bedraggled and beaten down as a garden in winter. It promises nothing, and shows only wilted, gray and soggy leaves. There are no straight defined rows, no hint of green to show that it will ever be any different. But the Indian knows the difference.

Long before winter------in the season of planting, we sowed the best seeds we could. As tiny and insignificant as they look, they will produce. When the best is planted and watered and cared for, the time will come to see the increase----to see a miracle.

Life can be renewed and restored. Bedraggled and ridden down as life can be, don't despair. Plant good words, plant good seeds. Nurture them with warm attention and care. Be a perennial believer and watch those first warm rays of sunlight awaken your garden to the Season of the Green Corn.

Sweet grasses and seeds serve as perfume for body and spirit.

Peace, Tawanka