Believe It Or Not… You Are Creative

Who me? Creative? Don’t think so.

I have news for you. Everyone of us has some type of creativity inside of us, whether it be singing, playing an instrument, cooking, gardening, or creating a beautiful vision through makeup everyday. 

Life is more satisfying when we use our creative souls with an outlet. Expressing yourself boosts your brain, gives you satisfaction, boosts energy, relieves stress and most of all, brings us joy. 

There are five types of creativity:

• Artisan

• A-Lister

• Activist

• Game Changer

• Sensitive Soul
Let me explain the types and how important using our creativity is to us.  

Copyright Sandra Hart© 2017. All Rights Reserved. 

The Burden Of Strength

Today while I was in my car waiting for the light to change, I saw a young woman struggling carrying an enamel bed headboard under one arm and the footboard under the other, sometimes switching it to her shoulders as she walked along the street. Just watching her struggle just for those few minutes moved me and made me think about how hard a woman’s life sometimes can be. When we find ourselves alone, women most often find solutions and we persevere no matter how hard the challenge, or stress on our lives and bodies. 

I remember my grandmother who while raising her 10 children on a daily basis cooked for her entire family as well as the farmhands. As if that wasn’t enough, she made all of the clothes for her children, fed the chickens, planted and tended the vegetable garden, and gathered fresh eggs for morning breakfast. 

She baked and cooked everything from scratch in her kitchen on a coal stove that she had to keep fired.

 She used to scrub the wash on a washboard, stirred a hot cauldron of soapy water to get them clean and ironed the clothes with a heavy sad iron. She needed at least two irons on the go together for an effective system: one in use, and one re-heating. I remember the sound of the sizzle when she sprinkled a few drops of water on it to see if it was hot enough. 

Through it all, my dear grandmother managed to have a smile on her face all day long. No wonder she and many other women of her era died in their fifties and sixties. 

 For too long we woman have a hard time sometimes saying ‘no’ to what is believed to be ‘our jobs’ as over- worked-solution-solving caretakers.  

 Now I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. Our families benefit from who we innately are and can do. I have to be honest with myself, although I am two generations away from my grandmother, I am guilty as charged and I’m not too sure I can ever change. It’s become too much a part of my DNA. 

How about you? Does the shoe fit? 

Copyright©Sandra Hart.    All Rights Reserved

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Tell Me, How Does Your Garden Grow?


Tell me, tell me true have you ever tried to dig a perennial flower garden in soil comprised of peanut stone and blog iron formed 11 million years ago, just waiting for a senior citizen to come along and plant something in it? You know, a lot of little peanut pieces, and mixed in the red soil just to make it more fun are plenty of rocks – big ones.  
When I was a wee Ohio lass years ago it was a challenge to fight with this ornery New Jersey soil. The Midwesterner in me was not going to let any East Coast ground beat me. You guessed right, the peanut stone won. I returned to the house and raised my children. I let nature be my Gardner. The lilies reproduced, azaleas grew big and colorful, birds planted berries, the ivy climbed beneath the mountain laurel and the natural habitat of dogwoods multiplied all while I was enjoying my life and never lifted a finger.  
Well, that was the smart someone I used to know. This over-fifty woman must have lost her marbles and memory to think she can still mine peanut stone.
So today when I returned from Lowes with a trunk load of perennials I had the good intentions of planting and re-energizing my flower garden near the front gate. But it only took the first ‘clink’ as my shovel bit into the impenetrable ground to wake up my memory- sort of a version of shovel shock therapy. I remembered why I have a natural landscape. 
Faced with the dilemma of ‘what next’ and not one to waste a trip to Lowes (or my money), I started to dig half-holes, or about as much as the concrete ground would give me,  all over the garden. It looked like a drunken gopher had been at work. In went the daisies, coneflowers and tall grasses. Half in and half out in a half-planted-‘half-arshed’ way. Topped off by a bag of potting soil and a prayer of forgiveness to these poor perennials, I dragged the hose and gave them a well deserved drink. Please survive sweet things but I’ve got to run. See you tomorrow. 
Slipping off my garden gloves I headed back up the beach stone path to the house defeated by my 11 million year old peanut stone soil. The next drink will be for me. Defeated by a bunch of dirt!

Copyright Sandra Hart©. All rights reserved.