 Knowing takes time When I placed the order for materials to make paper flowers, I had to wait a week for delivery. It was disappointing, but I did what I probably wouldn't have done had the materials arrived sooner ... read the book I borrowed from the library (the whole book, not just a chapter here or a passage there, the whole book), watched some videos (thank goodness), and found lots of examples of what's possible with paper flowers. Amazing. And then the paper arrived. I waited until the next day to get started, suddenly seized by doubt and overwhelm. The anticipation was over, now it was time to do the work. It's hard being a beginner Deep in crepe paper with sticky fingers, glue on my clothes, and scraps of snipped paper all over the place, I found myself mired doubt. This might be too much, I told myself. And I pouted ... wondering if it really was all too much. But, after multiple breaks to wash the glue from my fingers, a lot of deep breaths, and three hours of concentration, I had my first flower. A white cosmos. The finished flower was such an accomplishment. It's given me the incentive to keep going. To keep trying. Eager to see how well I did, I took the paper flower up the street and nestled it in among the real ones growing on the corner lot. I'm working on my second flower and feeling the same doubts ... is this worth it? Do I really want to pursue this? I'm not sure, but I do know what I need to do: Give it time. It would be easy to give up now. I'm frustrated and want quick results, but I know better. It's a familiar feeling. The same feeling I get when I start writing ... this newsletter, a letter to a pen pal, and just every other writing project. It's the feeling I got when I was painting room after room in the house these past few months. And so many other projects. But I've learned: staying with it matters. Is there something you're ready to bail on? Would it be better to hang in there a bit longer? Sometimes, it is good to say, "Nah, I think I'm done." But other times, we just need to dig a little deeper, hang in a little longer. After all, you never know how things might blossom ...  My second flower, the thistle, is a work in progress. The purple bits are too long, but I'm afraid to cut them. Afraid I'll cut too much and regret it. So I'm leaving it alone for a while. But I'm not giving up ... yet.
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 Unsolicited but welcome advice from my neighbor, Charlie It wasn't the first bit of advice from Charlie, but I remember it because I realized how much I had to learn. "Them there are pole beans." he said, "You need to put a pole in the ground so they can climb." We were standing in the backyard admiring (well, I was admiring) my first vegetable garden. Things had started to sprout and Charlie spotted the green beans. While I was well aware they were green beans, I missed the "pole" part. He was right. They needed poles to climb. I pushed three poles into the ground and watched them twist, turn, and reach new heights every week. The next summer he got me with a bit of a joke. It was this time of year, early July, when he came out back and said, "July fourth's come and gone, time to put the storm windows back on." My eyes widened and his twinkled as he let loose a big smile and a chuckle. It was a bit of an exaggeration, but there was some truth in what he said. Summer is fleeting. How do we make the most of it? What are your must-have and want-to-do activities this summer? How do you remember and squeeze in all the things you want to do? Use Tinplate, the new activity journal.  Use Tinplate, to find inspiration, track, and record the best that summer has to offer. It's an activity journal filled with stories and prompts to boost your curiosity and encourage you to do more with the time you have between the things you have to do for the things you want to do.
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