Patsy Baldus

I am finally getting back to my blog after a five month hiatus! Gee, you say, that’s been a while. “G” being the key here. These past few months I have been consumed with THREE G’s:

1.Greenhouse/Seedlings (Spring)

2.Gardens/ Front Garden, Back Garden, Sunny Bear Story Walk Garden, Windowboxes (Summer)

3. Getting back into my shorts/clothes through dance fitness (All Seasons)

I have been passionate about all three of these things, but primarily focused on the Sunny Bear Story Walk Garden. Created in connection to my children’s book, “Sunny Bear and the Secrets of Sunflowers,” and a purely whimsical project, this Story Walk has brought my book to life! I love the way the path is lined with yellow bursts of flowers, and I really love the whimsical shape of it–winding. It leads to a children’s playhouse where imaginations–not screen-induced– can go wild. And then there are the keys and bear figures hidden along the path for kids to discover. It started me thinking about paths in general.

According to Merriam Webster, the definition of path is,

“a course or direction in which a person or thing is moving.”

Simple, right? But when I started investigating paths, I found there were physical attributes, figurative paths, and many synonyms to describe paths. Philosophers have long touted the metaphors of paths. We’ve all been on many kinds of paths in our lives. There’s the “beaten” path: one repeatedly trodden. Sounds like the route to everyday work, right? Then there’s a “critical” path: an important choice to make (oatmeal or a delicious, iced, spicy pumpkin scone—-just kidding!) Some of us have been on the “Bridal” path: some have been on it more than once, some have hopped off this path, and others have not been on this path. Now take the “wilsome” path: the path that leads one astray. (You know who you are my Friday and Saturday night friends…) That one definitely strikes a chord in me! I spied a “mosaic” path on a craft site that sung to me with its beautiful, blues, flower details, and winding path. It could take you to so many places.

So what path am I on currently? Certainly, a sometimes smooth, sometimes steep path to marketing my children’s book. Whether the path is an upward climb, for example, in a recent presentation at a library, no kids showed up for a kid’s presentation–no matter, by the end of the program the adults present had reverted back to their childhoods with fingerplays, rhymes, and noises bees make… or whether it is on a fast downward slope of signing many books in a frenzy, there is always a path you can take. A positive one of hope that your book will resonate and capture your audience no matter who they are! Sometimes it’s just better to take an easy path: hop on that electric bike and see where it takes you. Eventually you will arrive at a destination. A new path and a new possibility!

If you’ve ever taken a high school history course, you’ve probably heard of the War of the Roses. This decades long , drawn out battle took place between the House of York, symbolized with a red rose, and the House of Lancaster, symbolized with a white rose. Both houses thought they had a rightful claim to the throne of England. Henry VI from Lancaster and Richard, Duke of York, both claimed to be rightful heirs. It took thirty years of battle before Henry Tudor solved the conflict: he married Elizabeth of York and killed Richard III of York. A new symbol was created: the Tudor rose. I thought about all this on one of the few sunny Spring days in April, as I prepared to step into my own garden and “do battle.” The creamy white climbing roses named “Sally Holmes” and the pink William Baffins both fought for their own space in the garden. The one thing they could agree on was a nasty set of thorns.

I was feeling quite smug about my preparation for this “Cutting-Back-of -the Roses Event: I wore two pairs of thick gloves, a thick puffy coat, thick pants, and high rubber boots. I wish I had thought about safety glasses, though, as I nearly poked my eye out as I leaned in to make that first all-important cut on the bare branches of the creamy roses. The long clippers did their job as I started from the outside of the bush working my way inward. When the first branch fell to the ground, it grazed my cheek. A war wound already? I stepped back to reassess the situation and found myself entangled in the William Baffins. Their thorny branches “launched an attack”—they stuck to my jacket, my pants, and yes, my hair. (Where was my hat?) My immediate defensive action was to fight back, sort of like poor Richard III must have done. To an onlooker or people passing by in their cars, that scene might have looked like a wild woman scarecow, flailing her arms with various thorny branches sticking to her all over her body. ( Think back to the Western where the poor, unfortunate steer gets tangled in barbed wire–it isn’t a pretty sight…) I was too proud to call to my husband for help; he thought I was the Happy Gardener. As I struggled to get free form Mr. Baffin’s clutches, I realized I was stomping on my newly budding tulips. I started to hop to avoid crushing them. After what seemed like an eternity, I managed to free myself from the enemy. I could just hear the creamy roses snorting: “Don’t mess with us!” I looked around and it really was a battleground: rose branches strewn everywhere. I charged ahead and gave the Baffins a low “hair-cut.” Take that! About an hour later, I had raked all the branches out of the garden and into a big pile. I had grown so clever over the last hour; I used a shovel and rake to load them into the wheelbarrow. They are a sight to behold in the summer, I thought, as I took load after load to the refuse trailer in the back of the house. I really had survived the “War of the Roses,” but a new symbol came to mind, just like a new symbol developed for Henry Tudor—only mine was the image of a jester waving clippers—an “April Fool,” for sure…

The calendar read March 20th, the first day of Spring, even though a glance out the window told a different story of the great outdoors. I knew if I just stepped outside in my yard, I would discover some subtle hints of Spring. It’s coming—I just know it! There are signs: I smell the earthy soil–the snow has temporarily shaken off her blanket, revealing brown earth underneath. Birds have gotten in on the act, too. I heard the loud chirp of a beautiful, male cardinal just the other day. And like every year, some new mystery bird, looking for a nesting place, has found its way into the depth of our giant rhododendron that leans against the house in our front garden. The rose bushes, even with their ever-present thorns, seem to be reaching out and begging for their Spring haircut. The Sunny Bear Garden pathway, lined with bricks out front, is now visible–but so are the scars from an overzealous plow guy. Even with the bricks askew, I am full of anticipation, because I planted lemony yellow tulip bulbs all along the pathway this past Fall. Scars or not, I know those tulips will persist and emerge triumphantly—soon—very soon! The trellis at the end of this pathway has withstood the wrath of winter. It stands tall and mighty, waiting to be adorned with flowers. I have just the right one in mind: the back-eyed Susan vine, which grows quickly and seems to know how to climb the trellis as it heads for the sky. I smile as I envision the front Sunny Bear Garden: majestic and tall sunflowers against the backdrop of the garage; smaller two- foot teddy bear sunflowers below them, sturdy “fuzzballs” just waiting to delight a child. The biggest question: where do I place the sunflower bench so all can pause a moment to look at the sunflower beauty all around them?

I walk to the back yard and appraise the garden there. I can still see remnants of the furrowed rows where I planted last summer. I know that soon—very soon— this space will be filled with sunflowers, zinnias, and cupcake cosmos. I am appeased by the signs I see because I know what the yard can become. With a little luck and love for my gardens, I can feast my eyes on brilliant colors, happy pollinators, and endless vases filled with bouquets–the bounty for all the hard work that goes into gardening.

Now if I can just assemble my new “easy-seeder” machine, which may take me the next few months to figure out… But I will be ready for Spring!

L. Lime Green

U. Under the leaves and soil

C. Clear a path!

K. Kudos to Spring!

Ever been to Iceland?

A few years ago, my son and his girlfriend traveled there. They loved it! The stark beauty of the landscape; the carved out coastline; the friendliness of the people there. They even caught a glimpse of the magical Northern Lights, but only once due to weather conditions. I thought about Iceland this wintry month of February as there has been some impressive volcanic activity there–you know, the land of “fire and ice.” The word, “fire” really resonates with me, especially in the month of February. My family and I went through the trauma of a house fire in February, back in 2001. It has been many years since it happened, but the memory will stay with us forever. My husband and I were not home at the time. Our high-school aged kids were coming home late from an away basketball game that night. They knew we would be home early the next morning. The electricity went out and my son built a fire in the wood stove. He was worried because it kept smoking. He had the wherewithal to have his sister, whose bedroom was in the loft, to come downstairs to sleep. Several hours later, the loft filled with smoke: unbeknownst to us, there was a crack in the metal asbestos chimney. The house burned to the ground. Thankfully, our kids escaped. So did our beloved dog. Sam, our cat, did not. He slept in the loft where my daughter usually slept. The firetrucks made the trek down our winding, icy, dirt road to our house. The firemen had to chop a hole in the ice on the lake to pump water. A neighbor contacted us about the house fire at 4 A.M. that next morning. We didn’t know if the kids were Ok at that point, which spurred my husband to travel the fifty minute ride in record time. By the time we got there, my son had wandered off in the woods in shock after getting his sister and the dog out; our daughter was in the ambulance, shaken up but Ok. The fire marshal later found my son, dazed and rattled, but OK. We lost the house and all its contents, but that didn’t matter; the kids were safe.

While I don’t dwell on this memory, it is hard to ignore when people in Eaton and Palisades, California, have gone through multiple fires recently. The physical and emotional loss of their homes is something I can relate to. My heart is with them. But I also try to think of February as the month of LOVE: love for a special person; love for family, love for a friend, love for a pet, and love for a community. The outpouring of love that my family experienced after the fire from the community I grew up in, to the community we moved to, was both touching and overwhelming. Clothes, gift cards, food, basketball sneakers from my son’s teammate, and many other things sometimes from perfect strangers, came from these communities. People came together and most importantly, offered caring and kindness. We saw this in California, too, didn’t we? It is these kinds of things that give me hope about our humanity.

In spite of February sharing her winter’s “glory” with us, it is a good thing to think about Spring, which is just around the corner! With Spring comes planting and beautiful flowers bursting through the soil. And in thinking about soil, even scorched or burned, there is hope, because in the aftermath of fires, nutrients are released into the soil through dead vegetation; phosphorus, potassium, and calcium are added from the ash; and new space and growth of seedlings is created.

So, plant like mad this Spring! Invite friends and community to share in the beauty and bounty of your garden! Harvest caring and kindness and watch it bloom.

Who wouldn’t want a trip to Grand Cayman in the middle of winter? My husband surprised me with a weeklong trip to this beautiful island for my milestone birthday! Temps in the 80’s, sparkling turquoise waters, white sandy beaches, steel drums echoing at the Beach Bar every night, and hens and roosters. Wait. Hens and roosters? You heard that right. Hens and roosters are everywhere you go on the island. They are prolific now because of a lucky break in the food chain. Apparently, the green iguanas, who overran the island for a time, loved to eat chicken eggs–at least until island officials put a bounty on them. The hens and roosters flourished as the green iguana population declined. None of this was a comfort to me, however. I have an unpleasant history with hens and roosters. I have been chased numerous times by these seemingly gentle creatures. The people at the resort seemed to take the roaming chickens in stride. In fact, the chickens paid no attention to the resort guests as they basked in the sun or sat reading on their balconies. I tried to skirt around them as we walked along the beach, but they smelled my fear. I stifled any screams so as not to disturb the guests and did some pretty fast sprinting. I’m sure I had a nickname by the end of that week: “Crazy-Woman-Who-Is-Afraid of Chickens” or “She-Who-Dances-with-Chickens.” You know that old joke about why did the chicken cross the road? Well, it was to chase me, undoubtedly…

In spite of my Poultry Fears, my husband and I wanted to explore the island. I couldn’t wait to tour the Queen Elizabeth II Botanical Gardens. I love flowers, and I knew I was in for a visual feast. The gardens did not disappoint.There were many categories which reminded me of our own Coastal Botanical Gardens here in Boothbay, Maine. One was “Xerophytic”– I had to look this up–this type of garden had many succulents. It contained plants that adapted to very little water. There was a breathtaking Children’s Garden, complete with amazing woody structures for kids to climb on. And then, there was the Orchid Boardwalk. I could not believe the beauty of these airy, delicate plants. Many were not in bloom because of the season, but there were enough to make you gasp at their color and shapes.

There were no trolls here at the Queen’s Gardens like the ones at Maine’s Botanical Garden , but there WERE creatures roaming freely. Not the green iguanas, but the elusive BLUE iguana was here, and they are protected by Cayman law. I did not know they were free-roaming until our taxi driver sweetly informed us as we drove up to the Gardens. A few facts on the blue iguana: they can be over five feet long, weigh twenty-five pounds, and a fact my husband deliberately omitted, was that they can run over twenty miles an hour..I was glad I did not know this ahead of time, but let me reassure you my size eleven feet would have come in handy if, indeed, I had to escape one of these charming creatures! We did encounter FOUR iguanas, one being quite large, and the rest smaller and younger. They seemed disinterested in us, but I kept hearing the warning of the gift shop clerk and the numerous signs that said, “Don’t bring food with you into the gardens…” My husband did not know how close I was to riding piggyback on him as we scooted past a small iguana not two feet from us on a wooded trail. We did survive the garden and the lovely iguanas, although the conservation pen areas gave me a flashback to the movie, “Jurassic Park”–remember the fences everywhere? As we went into the penned area, there was a big sign on the fence:” Please close the gate behind you.” We were out of there in record time. I did dream of tropical gardens that night. And I did get some ideas for my own sunflower gardens. I did NOT dream about blue iguanas or even chickens. I decided the only large creature that would be in my garden would be a sweet, bear statue holding a flower in his paw.

Happy 2025!

2025 started off with an adventure in Siberia–I mean–Minnesota–where over the course of two weeks the temps easily slid below zero. We spent two glorious weeks over the December holidays with my daughter and her family. We were pretty much oblivious to the ineffective sunshine outside.There was just too much to be excited about: watching our two young grandchildren squeal excitedly as they opened presents; sharing the Swedish tradition of St. Lucia as our granddaughter woke up her Mom and Dad dressed in a white dress adorned with a red sash, complete with a (battery-operated) crown of candles and a tray of “Grands” to serve them breakfast in bed; seeing seals up close at the Minnesota Zoo (remember the ones you saw this past summer from Grampy’s boat?); visiting cousins not seen in ages . (Is that really you, Brandon?) There was a kind of peace amongst the chaos, mostly because you were surrounded by love, and because you were experiencing the joy all over again through young eyes.

Leaving our busy brood was hard, but we were already off to another adventure–provided by my husband: Grand Cayman awaited! From “Siberia” to the tropics—the shock of 84 degrees was real. And how could we possibly be wearing shorts in January?? But, somehow we adapted quickly…The trip was a surprise for me in honor of a very BIG milestone birthday. I ignored my stark, white skin (Nearly flaked off in MN),less than superbly toned shape, and an occasional back ache, and embraced trade winds, turquoise waters, steel drums, and delicious food and drink. I reflected: Life indeed, was good! My resolution? To enjoy my life no matter where I am , find my happy places (Notice the plural!) at the moment, and try to eat healthfully–except in Grand Cayman… And the ridiculous? Worrying about my Golden Age. I will think of golden in terms of growing my beautiful teddy bear sunflowers, or golden opportunities to share my Sunny Bear book to as many little kids as possible. Or every time I wear that beautiful golden sunflower necklace my husband gave me for our anniversary!

Enjoy 2025!

Several Saturdays ago, I ventured into the World-of-Selling-Your-Book at the United Farmer’s Market in Belfast, Maine. And I was fascinated by the marketing styles of the pros who show up there every weekend. There was a woman next to me who connected easily with the Community. She had several “secret weapons”—food being the primary one.Her glassed-in window case was perfect for viewing all the delectable pastries that she had painstakingly baked. She arranged them on elegant white china, placed at different heights and sliced perfectly, showing the yummy layers within. The chocolate ones just screamed to be eaten, complete with artistic curls of phyllo pastry adorning the top. My salivary glands were working overtime! I felt like I was standing near a Parisian patisserie. Presentation really is everything! But that wasn’t the only strategy this woman employed: she had a bubbly personality, a continuous smile, a quick laugh, and above all else, a pride in her masterpieces, which clearly came through in her conversations. It was a lesson in real-time for me. Across from my “Sunny Bear” booth was an older gentleman selling his books as well. The competition! He was relaxed, leaning casually on the corner of his book shelf, totally unfazed that I was located across from him with my own children’s book. Quick to smile, (aha!) he walked right over to me, introduced himself, and asked me to come over and look at his books. An interesting and unabashed approach! Before I knew it, he had me sharing my life story—good grief! I had succumbed to the enemy! He greeted people as they walked by with phrases like, “Hi, Folks! Where you from?” or , “Love the T-shirt! Where did you find that?” People responded to his warmth. Later, he told me the secret to salesmanship: “Just get people talking about themselves.” I was taking all this in when I noticed the lady on the other side of my booth. She was selling copper jewelry for her friend. She had a distinctly different style of marketing that the other two, but was just as successful selling her wares. She was outgoing, friendly, and had a sense of humor. She taught me to “layer up” with a heavy sweater–the place was freezing with the constant opening and closing of doors. Her strategy was to greet people and then THANK them for coming to the market or stopping by to check out the jewelry. She also wore the jewelry which was quite eye-catching. As customers left, she wished them a wonderful day. She made them feel like they had made a great purchase. I left the market that day with a new-found appreciation of the Art of Salesmanship. Did I employ any of the strategies I witnessed? Well, a few for sure: I smiled until my cheeks hurt, I asked people if they were visiting or lived locally, I introduced my stuffed teddy bear, aka Sunny Bear, who sat casually on his sunflower stool, as the “King of the Sunflower Garden,” and I wore a large, artificial sunflower on my simple black jacket. I sold a few books, but came away with so much more. I was on the right track–I just needed to add a bit of Farmer’s Market Finesse and perhaps some sunflower seed pastries to my repertoire…

“I Ate Too Much” Excerpt by Jack Prelutsky

I ate too much turkey

I ate too much corn

I ate too much pudding and pie

I’m stuffed up with muffins

and much too much stuffin’

I’m probably going to die

I piled up my plate

And I ate and I ate..

Sound familiar?

I am so grateful to have had so many choices of food at the Thanksgiving table, and even more grateful to have shared it with my family. (I am especially grateful for the expand-a-waist pants I wore, too…) Sometimes being grateful catches you by surprise. Several weeks ago I went “tulip-crazy”—I planted tulip bulbs everywhere in my yard. Some will have fringy tops; some will look like parrots; some will remind you of freshly squeezed lemons. Even after planting them in my Sunny Bear Garden, my two front gardens, and in the planters near my back deck, I still had some left over. I immediately thought of my neighbors next door and their young daughter. We don’t really know each other except to wave in passing. Last summer , as I was working in the garden, they remarked at how beautiful my front gardens were as they got into their car. I was so touched and so pleased at this simple gesture of kindness. It encouraged me to keep tackling my “friends” the Weeds. This past summer, as I walked by their apartment building, I was completely surprised to see two new small planters and two large trellises by their front door. They were going to have a mini garden! The wife of the family confirmed it: “My husband wants to talk with you about growing flowers in our planters.” Wow! I felt like I had paid my plant passion forward! Now I knew the leftover tulip bulbs would be perfect for their mini garden in the fall. I put the tulip bulbs in the original bag, stapled a note to it (Hi, neighbors! Thought your daughter would get a kick out of planting these bulbs!) , and hung it on their doorknob. I took my usual morning walk to the ocean and on the way back noticed that the bag was gone. Yay! I went around the side of my house and saw a bag hanging on my doorknob. Oh, no! Had they returned the tulip bulbs? I lifted the bag off the doorknob and saw a note stapled to it. “Thank you for the bulbs! Your Neighbors next door.” There was something in the bag. I peered inside and there were dahlia tubers in the bottom. DAHLIAS???!!! I love dahlias! Suddenly a feeling of gratitude swept over me: grateful to have inspired someone else to create their own garden; grateful that we had communicated in a simple but mighty way; grateful that kindness really does exist–still!

Gratitude all around!