My Greenhouse Effect

I wish I could say this was mine; however, it's not. This one, though, gives me great pause and appreciation for how magnificent these things are when filled with greenery, beauty, and potential.

Happy 2026! My, oh my, how things shape up when given much love and nourishment. There's been a noticeable shift in our lives that has everything to do with nature and nothing to do with what's on the tips of our tongues. Yes, I'm talking about gardening and creating in the garden versus what's happening in the national culture. That alone makes me sad.

But gardening? My entire body warms and my heart opens wide when I strategize on plant placement for optimal sunlight, when I spend hours and hours deadheading flowers that have gone dormant for the winter (such a peaceful activity), and when I gaze lovingly at certain struggling plants or flowers and determine it's time for them to have a new environment.

Hence, my greenhouse. Greg built me this beautiful wooden-lined structure that's not too big and perfect for what I need to maintain my sanity in today's world. And, once the greenhouse was all said and done, I went to work. I'm a stickler for details, so everything about this endeavor had to be a combination of planned and spontaneous, based on the health of every potted plant, flower, or succulent that required urgent attention to thrive for years to come.

The greenhouse is a giving vessel of beauty, hope, imagination, and potential. I'm getting more familiar and accustomed to balancing the humidity and Fahrenheit of the inside, thus the plants I place on the shelves or on the concrete floor pavers have an epic chance of fulfilling their greatest growth and vibrancy. Safe to say I could spend hours in my tiny hothouse structure and not have a care in the world.

Here's the beginning of my latest project. More goodness gets added in as the days roll on. I could spend hours and hours in this tiny structure, it's THAT peaceful.

What makes this latest project of mine so very awesome is the fact that it's constantly evolving. This reminds me of life, in general. If we weren't evolving and changing and becoming, then our job in humanity hasn't reached its fullest potential. There's always more around the corner.

Whenever I place a plant, succulent, or flower in the greenhouse, I have to honor its spirit. By adding crystals, shells, and significant rock finds to the interior of this structure, the energy of the room gets electrified. I could sit (or stand) and watch its evolution until every ounce of greenery has a chance to survive and be amazing. Wouldn't that be something? The plants and flowers teach me patience, just like Wizard.

We recently had the first new moon of the year. I have a local friend with whom we walk our dogs together (who also happens to be a retiree from the California Fish & Game Department), and she mentioned to me that a new moon is the best time to throw wildflower seeds. Makes sense, as everything new is morphing into somewhat of a mainstay in our lives. What does that even mean?

Well, I adore sunflowers. So I bought two packs of sunflower seeds, and I plan to throw each tiny seed morsel into our backyard garden during February's new moon and hope for the best! The majestic brilliance of a sunflower speaks volumes to my heart. Big yellow petals, huge center face, and leggy for days. Here's the ultimate definition I discovered about this hardy flower: "The middle of a sunflower, which looks like a single dark center, is actually made of hundreds of tiny, individual flowers called disc florets, which develop into the seeds, while the outer yellow 'petals' are sterile ray florets designed to attract pollinators. Botanically, the entire head is an inflorescence, a cluster of many flowers."

Fancy, huh? It's these intricacies--and nature, in general--that give my soul such peace and loveliness. I can't wait to see the outcome when a flower arrives at its full expression. The experience is similar to a birth, of sorts. The thrill, the nerves, the smiles, the relief. It's all part of a creative birthing experience.

My greenhouse effect offers that same feeling, and then some. I could spend hours toiling away in both the backyard garden and our front patio garden. Each beautiful flora has THAT certain something whereby I want to sit with them, talk with them, encourage them, and rearrange them so they absorb the most optimal light and/or shade. Since the sun shifts its patterns throughout the seasons and years, I shift the potted plants as well, wherever they sit (unless rooted in the ground). They need to be accommodated and cared for in all their glory.

If anything, the greenhouse effect spans time. Whoa, sounds rather heavy, but this project is such a labor of love that I tend to it daily and never know the outcome, which I love. Who knows how long I'll be at this creative gardening, yet I hope it doesn't end anytime soon. I continue to add, arrange, plan, water, tweak, deadhead, trim, converse with, and admire all that grows and provides marvel.

With that, I'll close out this first episode of the New Year with a heartfelt wish. May we all nurture what we are passionate about. May we all have the opportunity to experience nature and all that it has to offer. And may we ALL use our eyes, ears, and voice to be part of this 2026 year, with respect and love.

That'll do it for January. My greenhouse is driving my heart, thus the effect this tiny hothouse has on my life and our home will continually be one of wonder!

Blessed be to you and your family,

Gerry Ellen xoxo