Promise

A British researcher has come up with a mathematical formula for calculating what will be the most depressing day of the year. This year, it was January 24th. His formula is as follows:

[W + (D-d)] x TQ M x NA

These are the seven variables of the equation: (W) weather, (D) debt, (d) monthly salary, (T) time since Christmas, (Q) time since failed quit attempt, (M) low motivational levels and (NA) the need to take action.
Though the days technically start getting longer after December 21st, lousy weather patterns set in resulting in dark, cold days. About six days into the new year, people have already broken their New Year's resolutions to eat and drink less and quit smoking; the reality of debt incurred from holiday spending is kicking in and any yuks and feel goods from Christmas have evaporated. Statistics from internet search engine companies reveal that the most 'googled' word is depression. And so, I have taken it upon myself to do something about this. For the sake of all mankind, I have created a cabin fever reliever video. Well, no, not really. I created a video that I think will lift the lowest spirits of the depressed and downtrodden, but I didn't do it for mankind. I'm sure that surprises you to no end. I was asked to speak at the opening event of Brunswick, Maine's Longfellow Days. The program, a benefit for The Village Improvement Association was called Gardens Galore. The gala shindig was held at The Frontier in Brunswick, a wonderful venue for sharing food, art, music and film. I gave a short speech and then played the video. Click on the sunflower and you can see the show. There is a full screen option on the Picasa site that this link leads you to and remember, give it a minute to buffer. Kick back with a comforting beverage and have your volume up. I hope you enjoy it. Below the video is my speech and my poem, 'Promise.'

From Videos

"How's February working out for everybody? Are you loving it? February is a tough month. It's not spring yet, but it sure shouldn't be winter any more!
The Village Improvement Association has put together a lovely program tonight that should knock the winter right out of you. At the very least, maybe it will talk you out of moving to Florida until next week.
When I was asked to speak tonight, a coincidence occurred to me. Today is my father's birthday and it's also my father-in-law's birthday. So, the next time you're kickin' February to the curb, keep in mind that it could be worse. You could be giving birth!
I'm Robin Robinson. I'm a gardener, a photographer and a writer. My gardens are on the south end of Phippsburg on the east side of Westpoint. And if you can figure that out, you're Daniel Boone!
I also garden for other people in Phippsburg, Bath and Brunswick. Most of what I do is garden maintenance. It's a program I call Weeding For Dollars. I love to weed! It's how I make my obsessive compulsive disorder work for me.
I've been gardening for thirty years and I come from a long line of gardeners. I learned my love of gardening and flowers from my German grandmother. She was one of the original members of The Village Improvement Association. The hawthorn trees on Maine and Federal Streets were one of her projects. She knew them to be tough, city trees from growing up in Munich. She grew up tagging long with her father, my great-grandfather while he conducted his duties as the last head gardener to the last king of Germany, Kaiser Wilhelm.
My grandmother is about to celebrate her 100th birthday in March. She used to complain that she didn't like planting the center aisles on Maine Street in Brunswick because she thought it was indecent to have her fanny in the air all day with Alfred Senter.
I don't mind having my fanny in the air at all and will spend all day like that through the summer.
I am a compulsive plant collector. I can always find room to jam in one more plant. When I acquire something new, my husband doesn't bother to ask me anymore, "Where are you going to put it?"
Besides my family heritage, the keys to my gardening success have been my perseverance, general disregard of all the rules, and I have grown everything at least once and killed everything at least twice.
I am also a photographer. I took up photography because karaoke just wasn't working for me anymore. At least that's what my friends all said. I love photography as much as gardening. I photograph anything and everything. I tell people I'll photograph anything that can't outrun me, but I especially love wildlife and flower subjects. I live on the ocean and have a greenhouse. The greenhouse is part of what gets me through February! That, combined with my gardens and those of my customer's gives me virtually endless photography subjects. I've accumulated a photography catalog of over 100,000 images.
I'm pretty sure that fact combined with my compulsive plant collecting makes me technically a hoarder.
I'm a writer. I have a blog or website where I am able to combine all of my hobbies or some would say obsessions. The blog is a compilation of my photographs and essays mostly about the natural world, but sometimes about people. I have found the internet to be the perfect place to share all of the things I love to do with the world. There is a handout available with the web site address.
Because I have a degree in poetry and I also hoard books, in my personal library I was able to immediately lay my hands on works by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. I have an anthology of poetry called The Household Book Of Poetry. It was printed in 1878 when Longfellow was still alive. The book was intended to make poetry about many subjects accessible to families and children. It has lots of authors, but of particular note to me was that there were twelve works by William Shakespeare and eighteen works by Longfellow. Longfellow was a prolific writer and an eclectic guy. He wrote about diverse subjects from kings in Sicily to seaweed, but he especially loved the natural world. I'm pretty sure that if Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was alive today, he would have a blog!
I've put together a video for you for tonight. It contains a partial poem of Longfellow's and a poem of my own. The photographs are all taken in my garden or from my gardens. I think you'll see that I love the wildlife that lives within the gardens as much as the flowers. There is music to accompany the photographs, all 100,000 of them! Just kidding; the video is only thirteen minutes.
After the video, I'll take questions if there are any. And thank you all for coming tonight."
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PROMISE

Robin Robinson

In the dark days of December,

When winter has ground me down

From across the room I look at you,

And I remember

Every year there is a June.

Spend your life with me,

You asked

While all the lilacs flashed

The rhododendrons passed off

To the roses

And the lupines bloomed,

Pink, purple, blue.

You spilled your words,

Like singing birds

And surely as a season's progress

I said yes, I do.

When the moon's cold in December,

And the frost holds hard to snow,

From across the room I'll look at you,

And I will remember

Every year, there is a June.

JUST SOMETHING PRETTY June 2009

I put this 3 minute video together of my gardens and a couple of other shots which I have taken over the past two weeks. To view in full screen, click on the small square at the bottom right hand side of the video box. You know how computers can be: give the little darling a minute to buffer. Norah Jones sings "Come Away With Me." I hope you enjoy it; it's just something pretty.

Spring's a Comin'!

This is a short (under 7 minutes) video I put together. It's of my gardens in Mid Coast Maine in the months of June and July. I do all of the gardening. My husband is my slave labor. I made this video because right now, there is snow all over the ground. Where there isn't snow, there is treacherous ice. It's the time of year when the sun is feeling really warm and inviting, but dare yea who ventures out! It's still very cold. The wind is biting and takes the fun out of the sun's seeming invitation. At this time of year, I have metamorphosed totally into a house fly. I become one of those fat, lazy ones that buzzes idly around, crawling on the windows. They always seem like they should be easy to kill, but they're not. I can attest to that having tried to swat lots of them. Plus, I'm still here. Like the swollen, blue flies, I don't like to go outside. I like to move around inside the house, following the path of the sun. Only to fill the bird feeders do I scurry out, mindful of the deadly ice, always there to claim a hip, a wrist or some other vital part of me lest I skid on it. That has happened to me before, too. I've slipped and sent buckets of bird seed flying into the stratosphere to rain back down on me as I cursed. I've yet to break anything, but my life passes before my eyes anticipating that I will. Long after my heart stopped pounding and I'd caught my breath, I was still picking the seeds out of my hair and from inside my bra. It's a good thing that Cosmo Kramer from Seinfeld didn't live here. I felt like he looked when he'd fly into a room, arms and legs everywhere before he came to an abrupt stop. Had he tried that maneuver on the ice in my driveway he would have broken into a million pieces. And his hair would have held onto bird seed for perpetuity. I have hair like his. I know.
Today, I ventured out across the yard to fill a feeder and throw some corn around. As I minced my way across what looks like old fashioned boiled frosting, I noticed tracks of deer mixed in with turkeys. The turkey tracks are so big they look like teradactyls were stomping around out there. The deer have come right to the side of the house to chew shrubs, in spite of the dogs (aforementioned useless bums). They have stood on their hind legs to tip a suspended bird feeder on end to get to the seed. That's how hungry they are. I suppose that there is lawn under the glistening sheen where now, only a Zamboni should dare to tread. I have to take that on some faith, faith that the grass will eventually green up, faith that my chewed magnolia will recover, faith that the deer won't starve to death. I have to have faith that I won't be killed outright, or at least suffer a million broken bones, while out doing a good thing for creatures other than myself. I have to have faith that under the snow, the crocuses are squeezing their way upward toward the sun. That's really why I made the video. Sometimes, my fears overshadow my faith and I need a reminder.