Hello, fellow lovers of things green. The podcast version of our weekly chats reached a milestone of 200 episodes, which grew from thirteen years of columns in my local newspaper. I’m so thankful for The Weekly Press and all of you who join me online. There’s much to learn in this garden of life from the rhythms of nature, our gardens, and each other. I am so grateful to all of you for being part of the growth. I thought we’d celebrate the milestone by talking about our journey together.
When we began, Miss Ellie Mae was my sidekick and the column and podcast mascot. My Unexpected Furry Messenger arrived in my life after I found the courage to end the merry-go-round of a marriage ruined by the isolation and neglect of addiction. We shared isolation and neglect in common. She — by owners who may have adored puppies but not dogs, leaving her alone in a cage in their backyard unprotected from the hot Georgian sun, rarely fed or watered her first year of life. I—from a husband who was in love with his addictions rather than me.
Ellie and I healed and grew together, though she never overcame her dreaded fear of other dogs. She had scars on her belly from her first year of life, so I suspected she may have been attacked as a pup. I accepted her emotional scars (I call stretch marks) as permanent just as I accept mine.
As difficult as it was, hurting my soul, I am grateful for what became “my permission to leave” the marriage. It’s heartbreaking to accept the truth that someone doesn’t love you.
It was Election Day 2008, and I drove from an attorney appointment to Town Hall to vote. Out of the blue, my brother Bill called. Never had he called in the middle of a workday, but he felt my energy and sadness. Through ugly tears, I shared the recent details of the marriage struggle, which put my safety at risk.
“But I still love him,” I said.
Bill asked if I had water nearby.
“Go there and find a leaf. Watch it maneuver through the current slowly, beautifully, and serenely. You see, none of us have control of the current — a parallel to the ebbs and flows in our lives. Let go, trust, and live calmly and serenely rather than resist the flow. Like the leaf in the water.”
Bill & I – Christmas Day on New Smyrna Beach, FL.
Unconditional Love Comes from Within
Little did I know that a few years after Bill shared The Lesson of the Leaf, his wisdom would see me through losing him, too, rolling right into the torturous, long goodbye of my mother with dementia. And here we are, over a decade later. I hope the remarkable wisdom of my soulful twin brother Bill’s “Lesson of the Leaf”—the title of my forthcoming book— will help others maneuver through loneliness and loss to find the unconditional love that comes from within. And how the lessons from nature and gardens help heal and grow our lives.
I related to Ellie’s fear of dogs. I had a dreaded fear of dogs as a child that followed me well into adulthood. In retrospect, it may have been the unfamiliar feelings of unconditional love that I feared yet longed for. I think we all long for it.
Moving Forward One Step at a Time
Walking was the only way to calm my then-foster dog, who was filled with heightened anxiety due to her first year of life. The first time I brought my southern belle for a walk in the woods, she escaped from the back hatch before I could lasso her and ran like the wind, her mangy, featherless tail flying. “This isn’t good,” I said to myself. The thought of being a foster failure by losing her came to mind.
I didn’t have a name for her yet but came up with “Missy! Missy! Come!” This thin-coated, alien-looking blonde captured my heart with her contagious grin as she ran back to me in the sheer joy of being free. Her name became Miss Ellie Mae, and we walked four to five miles daily—over 14,000 miles moving forward one step at a time.
Miss Ellie’s unexpected arrival – June 23, 2009
Ellie passed away in August 2020, during the thick of the pandemic. Losing her then added to the loneliness and isolation we all felt at that time, being isolated from our families and each other —a poignant throwback when I think about it now.
Five months after saying goodbye to Ellie, we adopted Jolee.
Five months later, we adopted Jolee through Father John’s Animal House. However, I didn’t feel ready just as I didn’t feel ready when Ellie stumbled into my life unexpectedly soon after Miss Sara passed away, which coincided with the end of my marriage. I didn’t know if I could have a dog if I had to move due to the divorce. But it all worked out as intended. And I could stay in this beautiful respite surrounded by nature where I found home— farm country where I am blessed to live. The Appalachian Trail runs parallel on the ridge up the road a piece.
A downsize and do-over were part of the plan.
I think back to when I found this heavenly place. It was an unplanned move, having recently married my now ex-husband, who struggled with addiction that impacted our lives. He lost his business because of it, and we downsized and moved to Blairstown, NJ. Magically, during a time of strife, I found home – it felt like “Mini-Vermont,” a place I longed for.
Before moving here, I frequented Vermont to hike and ski and felt a sense of loss when I returned to New Jersey, just outside of Manhattan, where I lived from my early twenties until my mid-thirties during my corporate career in publishing and marketing. The downsize and do-over became a gift of finding where I felt at home because I belong amongst nature—always have.
The benefits of walking amongst the trees
I moved to Manhattan to attend college and pursue a career in fashion—not a good fit, but I found my way to the fashion of plants. While I enjoyed the city’s cultural offerings, I longed for green and sought it out, traipsing through the lawns of Central Park in my bare feet to feel the green and walk amongst the trees.
In Ep 34. Forest Bathing, Willowwood Champion TreesI shared bits of my roots, how I ditched my bike as a kid feeling lonely despite having four siblings and an intact set of parents. I’d wander in the woods, each time going a bit further. There was a heap of old cars rusting away that scared me, but I felt such a sense of accomplishment when my courage overcame the fear, and I walked beyond them.
So, in addition to the scientifically proven health benefits of walking amongst the trees, I added “one last benefit of Forest Bathing, my addition. The feelings of adventure and courage walking beyond unknowns and fears and letting go of what once was, though never forgetting or forsaking the love.”
It all makes sense as nature teaches us.
It all makes sense when we look back at our lives, the ebbs and flows, the ups and downs, the losses and gains. Finding the courage to leave the marriage allowed me to focus on my healing and growth. To let go of the suffering, to end my partaking in my unhappiness and loneliness. What a remarkable gift Miss Ellie gave stumbling into my life to heal with me, teaching me that neglect IS abuse and sharing unconditional love.
Many of us tend to be good at giving. But don’t feel worthy of receiving. Saying “enough” or “no” and letting go means loving yourself enough to find the calmness and kindness you deserve. When you think about it, nature teaches us that. How animals, insects, and plants function in the natural world is about preserving their species. Wanting to feel safe and peaceful is also based on your survival instincts.
Ending a harmful relationship may seem selfish to some, but there’s nothing wrong with saving yourself and prioritizing yourself. It’s not selfish; it’s self-awareness. Putting yourself first may feel uncomfortable, but prioritizing yourself is the only way to serve others, as they coach us during flights to set up our oxygen masks before helping those next to us. We all deserve the love we give others.
I receive much more than I give, visiting and providing music for patients and their families at the Karen Ann Quinlan Home for Hospice and volunteering for Comfort Zone Camp, a grief camp for kids, just as we receive more joy and bounty from our gardens than we give by lovingly cultivating our earth. Serenity and peace will grow if we all tend to ourselves, our families, friends, neighbors, and our dear earth with kindness and love.
It all makes sense when I look back. Losing my brother Bill led me to access grief counseling at my local hospice, which led to becoming a volunteer, which brought my beloved singing partner and dear friend, Ken Roberts, into my life. He has filled a place in my heart serving others that I longed to fill, along with a friendship of love that I cherish.
More recently, stress at home resulted in a health emergency, and the blessing of “coincidentally” learning about the services of the Mental Health Association in Newton, NJ, helped me heal and grow, too. What a delight to share a joyful day of visiting the sunflower maze with others benefiting from their services, as we chatted about in Ep 126. A Sunflower Maze Brings Happiness.
I can see now that things unfolded as they were supposed to. And the same is true for you if you look back in time and sit in the presence of your life.
Hopes of Growth
So here we are at a milestone, and one of my hopes is to bring this podcast to YouTube in addition to the podcast platforms we are on. I’m unsure how to do it but will try to cast fear aside.
Thank you for allowing me to share bits of our journey leading to the 200th podcast episode. As you go through milestones, take time to look back and reflect on the rhythms of your life—the events, the ups and downs, and the growth that came from them. It all makes sense as part of the plan. But while we reflect, let us live in the present. Each day is a gift, as are the people and pets that come into it, along with Mother Nature’s critters and the beauty of all things green with a splash of color.
A side note: While preparing my talking points for the podcast, I began writing in circles- like going through a day or days chasing your tail. Do you know what I mean by that? I’ll bet you do, running from here to there, tending to tasks, and not feeling as if you accomplished much. Or you’re off track. Off-kilter. When that happens, it may be best to take a deep breath — or two or three. Or a hundred and bring yourself back to a place of peace that is rooted in all our souls. It’s hard to do sometimes, as the noise of the world clamors for attention. And we can get caught up in the drama of it all. Or not. Let’s not. Let’s return to the roots of who we are — souls rooted in love, peace, and kindness.
Links to the Companion Posts related to the Podcasts Above:
Mary Stone, owner of Stone Associates Landscape Design & Consulting.
As a Landscape Designer, I am grateful for the joy of helping others beautify their surroundings which often leads to sharing encouragement and life experiences. These relationships inspired my weekly column published in THE PRESS, 'Garden Dilemmas? Ask Mary', began in 2012.
I dream of growing the evolving community of readers into an interactive forum to share encouragement and support in Garden and Personal Recoveries -
seeking nature’s inspirations, stimulating growth, weeding undesirables, embracing the unexpected. Thank you for visiting! Mary
