Resiliency
Tracy Forest • June 5, 2026
Thriving in Inhospitable Places
We are just coming out of a brutal drought here in Central Florida, and looking forward to a wet El Nino summer to replenish the aquifer and help our gardens rebound from the crazy freezes we had this winter. To say the least, it has been an "inhospitable season" for growth. I was preparing the garden to go under cover for the summer (a process called solarizing), and was mowing through some thick weeds along the edges. There they were: happy purple, pink, and white petunias peeking through the tangle of weeds and thorns. They weren't planted there. My father tossed out some seeds in various places around our property many years ago, but they move every year! It's the same with the little white false dandelion. In a sea of yellow blooms, there is one white, but never in the same place from year to year.
Both of these plants rely on wind, birds, and water to take their numerous seeds and distribute them all over. Out of all those seeds, some will find appropriate conditions to germinate and begin the cycle again. The petunias fascinated me most, because I have found them in a rocky fence line, in the middle of vegetables, under the grapes, and now in the midst of thorns (pigweed amaranth). They seem to love tough places to grow.
I know I've written about growing in tough conditions before, but my mind is wandering a bit more freely this week. I had the opportunity to attend some excellent workshops at our church's annual conference, and the big focus was learning how to break out of your mold and thrive in adversity. Shift the mindset: a problem becomes an opportunity, a need becomes a call, an obstacle becomes a launching pad for greater, different, mission. Just like these flowers pop up in different places every year, I'm examining how I need to break the ordinary cycles and do something new.
Do you need to replant yourself in the midst of inhospitable conditions? You can do it! You were created to THRIVE and BLOOM!
Blessings,
Tracy
Seasons Aren't Just For Nature
It's the time of year when the wild mint is in bloom and hickory nuts fall from the trees, and both of these happen around my grandparents' little country Methodist church in north Florida. The church is even named Hickory Grove. I was there this weekend for the annual Founders Day, where our family sponsors a cake booth, delicious family recipes sold by the slice, all to benefit this church that has blessed our family for generations. As I was leaving, I picked up a hickory nut, then turned to take the long way home so I could pick some wild mint. My daddy taught me to observe the natural world, including this little plant with the pungent mint fragrance that only grew on one short stretch of road between the church and his old home place. Daddy could grow anything...except this plant. He collected seeds, but they wouldn't germinate. He transplanted the entire plant, but it always died. He didn't even know the name of it, and wondered if the experts had missed its existence altogether. I reached out to a professor at the University of South Florida, Dr. Bruce Hansen, and learned that this little plant is Dicerandra linearifolia var robustior, more commonly known as Coastal Plain Balm, and is indeed only found in a few pockets around north Florida and south Georgia. Through further research, I learned that it thrives in what I would consider terrible growing conditions: sandy, acidic soil. Basically, it needs adversity to thrive. Let's not forget my other object, the humble hickory nut. These are literally tough nuts to crack, which is why they are typically left for the wildlife to eat. My daddy told me that his mama would make a hickory nut cake if he and his sister could harvest enough of them and crack them all open. I think they only tried that once or twice because it was such an arduous process. What started out as fun quickly turned to a chore. (My grandma was SMART! Kept those mischievous young'uns busy for a long time!) As I wandered around and contemplated the life of my elders, I deepened my appreciation for adversity and how it shapes us as humans. My parents grew up poor during the post-depression era, but they developed into adults who were rich in character and faith. If we allow, adversity can strengthen us, just like the song, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger!" It's scriptural, as well: "...We exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint..." Romans 5:3-5 When you face your next trial, tough time, unforseen circumstance, shift your focus. Get outside and find some inspiration in the natural world, then tackle that problem with the confidence that it can make you stronger. Instead of stopping to smell the roses, I stopped to smell the mint, took the road less traveled, and that made the difference in my weekend. Blessings, everyone! - Tracy
Some days are just hard. Yesterday's early morning garden task, weeding, is never a fun process, but was particularly difficult because of the type of weeds I was removing. These weren't just any old weeds that could be removed with a hoe, rather a grass from the pit of hell: nutsedge. For those of you who aren't familiar with this weed, it grows from "nuts" deep in the ground, each producing a web of anchoring roots, creating an interconnected mat of grassy sedge above ground. It can't just be pulled up, because the nut will pop off in the ground and live to grow another day, creating an endless chore. In one of my favorite books, "To Kill A Mockingbird," Miss Maudie wages a war with nut grass, explaining to young Scout that she can't just pull it up. "Why, one sprig of nutgrass can ruin a whole yard!" My chore was to dig very deeply in the tilled soil to find those nutlets, then remove the entire web of connected sprigs. If I didn't do this chore, my veggies, like the green bean in the picture, were going to be choked out and deprived of nutrients. I want my VEGGIES to grow deep roots, not this awful weed. As I removed clump after clump, I thought about our choices in life, how they anchor us, for good or bad. If we allow bitterness to grow unchecked, it chokes out the positivity that life tries to present to us. If sadness remains an unhealed emotion, it prevents us from being able to grow strong and be a force for good in the world. On the flip side, if we intentionally choose joy, it supplies us with energy to spread that joy to others. If we choose to plant seeds of kindness, hope, or peace, it soothes our soul and positively impacts those around us. As yesterday progressed, one thing after another happened in my day to add onto the "hard" nature, including the assassination of a controversial political activist. Now today is 9/11. It just feels heavy. But God. I know God had me in the garden for a reason yesterday morning. He knew my day was about to be burdensome. I'm grateful that God helped me learn from nature yesterday, that I could understand that my responsibility is to plant good seeds in good ground, and tend that ground carefully, both in my garden and in my life. That means sometimes I have the unpleasant chore of rooting out bad habits, negative thoughts, heavy emotions...and nutsedge. May you find a way to cultivate good ground in your life, and plant seeds of love, joy, kindness, and peace. I'm praying for you.
Dusk is my favorite time of day, sans mosquitoes. It is the end of a day whose tasks are either done or not, whose results are either success or failure or somewhere in between. My day started full of hope, but ended with disappointment due to circumstances beyond my control. I found my mood becoming sour over this one disappointment, disregarding all of the other good that occurred throughout the day. It is technically autumn here, and I'm in my happy season, Standard Time, the "fall back" season when my circadian rhythm finally feels in sync with the movements of nature. I rise with the sun, and quiet with its setting. I knew that I needed to escape the walls of the house to escape my mood and used the excuse that I needed to put the baby chicks to bed. How calming to see the sliver moon with Venus shining brightly beside, the last rays of sunset glowing behind our big oak tree. Eveningtide. Peace. (Breathe in, breathe out. Again.) It brought to mind the words of a hymn: "Abide with me, fast falls the eventide..." The author, Henry Francis Lyte, wrote the hymn after visiting with a friend with failing health. His own health was not good, suffering from tuberculosis, but he continued to preach and care for others even when his body was failing him. It is reported that he said, "It is better to wear out than to rust out." The scripture inspiration for the hymn comes from the book of Luke, where followers of Jesus were walking on the road to Emmaeus. Talk about disappointment! Their teacher had been crucified and buried, and now the body was missing, and the women at the tomb were babbling about Jesus being risen from the dead. (Yes, that's my interpretation of how it all went down.) As the followers walked and talked, a traveler joined them, a stranger that they did not yet recognize. As the day was ending, the followers asked the stranger to "abide" with them, stay, rest, eat. It was customary to offer such hospitality to strangers in the Hebrew culture, and it was in this act of resting and breaking bread together that Jesus revealed himself to them as the risen Christ. Abide. Breathe. Know that you have made it through another day, and dawn is coming with an opportunity to start anew.
A funeral took me back to my hometown in north Florida this weekend, back to my great-grandparents' homestead, back to twisting, winding, country roads. As I was navigating back roads, trying to remember shortcuts to various family member's houses, I had to make some adjustments on the fly, like when I missed a turn and had to "bang a u-ey" by a cow pasture. It was really bad at night, because there are NO lights out in the boonies and every dirt road looks the same. It reminded me of my summer. There were some unexpected turns that caught me off guard, and I did not navigate them well. I wish there had been warning signs like the one in this photo...but would I have paid attention? Or would I have ignored the warnings and still crashed? Sudden turns in our plans are inevitable regardless of how much we think we have things under control. The job has layoffs - sudden turn. The health report comes back less than great - sudden turn. A relationship ends - sudden turn. The washing machine breaks, the car starts making a funny noise, the A/C breaks - sudden turns, especially the latter! As I was alone in our family cottage last night, contemplating my summer of turns, I ran through a range of emotions, from sadness, to anger, to defeat, and ultimately to resolve. When I was a mental health therapist, I encouraged my clients struggling with depression to tackle their day by getting dressed. Don't sit around in pajamas. Get dressed as soon as you get out of bed. Accomplishing that one thing will make you more likely to accomplish the next thing, like eating breakfast. I had to give myself the same instructions last night: do the next thing. I can't control the sudden turns, but I can control how I navigate them. I'm reminded of a passage from Proverbs: "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean NOT on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will direct your paths." Yeah, I think I'll do that.
These are cranberry hibiscus. We planted them from seeds, expecting a cute little shrub to add a pop of color to the landscape. Well, they bloomed where they were planted, but then branched out. A lot. We were shocked at their rapid growth, sprawling pattern, and dramatic color throughout the year. Their refusal to be rootbound has resulted in living privacy barriers that are low maintenance and just lovely. Have you ever seen a plant that is rootbound? The roots are tightly wound around each other, maintaining the shape of the container in which the plant was growing. When that plant is transplanted, those roots have to be ripped loose, even cut, in order to break free from their restrictive growth pattern. Only then can the plant thrive in its new location. I've been told throughout my life to bloom where I'm planted, and that served me well during the years of moving around with hubby's Navy career. I went into each new volunteer opportunity with a mission because I knew we were only going to be there for a few years. I remember a pastor in Maryland encouraging me to take time to find my spot, but I bluntly told him that I didn't have time to do that. Use me while you have me! While I bloomed (served) in each duty station, I realize that I was also rootbound. I used our restricted time and service to my family as reasons, but they were actually excuses because I wasn't willing to deal with my own "stuff." It wasn't until we became empty nesters that I fully addressed those things that were keeping me stuck. The Forest Farm is growing because I'm making ongoing choices to expand my roots. What is holding you back? Are you restricted by your circumstances or simply your own choices? I fully embrace the belief that we are each created with a purpose. I'll wager that there is a unique place for you in your sphere of influence, even if you don't recognize it yet. If you need help getting "transplanted," reach out! I would be honored to help launch you into a new season of growth. Be blessed! - Tracy
We had some very heavy rains in the garden last fall, and our freshly sprouted seedlings were taking a beating. To protect them, we put some layers of mesh loosely over the top. It helped the plants, but became a snare for this little warbler. I was able to rescue her, then gently held her in my hand while she calmed down and regained some energy after her panicked struggle to free herself. She likely would have died had I not found her, because our cats would have taken advantage of her circumstances. How often do we find ourself in similar situations in life? Choices made in haste, without fully surveying the situation, entrap us in circumstances that are harmful to us. We didn't intend to get stuck, and we might not be able to free ourselves without assistance. The struggle of trying to break free can be exhausting and even dangerous. We need an ally! During my years as a therapist, I saw many people who didn't want to ask for help. The song lied: you are not a rock, nor an island. We are designed to live in community with fellow humans. When we refuse to seek an ally, we are further harming ourselves and depriving someone else of being helpful. Seek out a safe person to help you find a different perspective, whether that is a friend, family member, counselor, pastor, teacher, etc. Be honest with that ally, not sugar coating or minimizing to protect your pride. Use that ally to help you learn the skills you need to avoid repeating the behavior that snared you. Implement your plan for breaking free by making at least one positive step every single day, and be accountable to your ally. Even allow yourself time and space to rest and regain your energy. Finally, remember that there is a God who wants to be our ally as well. The psalmist wrote about this in Psalm 124 (my paraphrase): What if God had not been on our side? We would have been overwhelmed, even killed! We escaped like a bird from a trap. Now the trap is broken and we are FREE! Celebrate your freedom today! - Tracy
"Respect your elders," was a phrase I heard often growing up in my small Southern town. It was understood that those who had spent more years on God's great green earth had valuable information to pass along to younger generations. Even so, I didn't fully grasp the concept of Seventh Generation principles until dramatic news of climate crisis had bombarded my psyche for years. When we finally settled on our little plot of land after hubby's Navy retirement, I wanted to do things differently. I didn't want to grow my family's food with pesticides and tons of fertilizer. What's the point in copying the methods of the mass-produced veggies already in my grocery store? The Seventh Generation Principle is derived from indigenous cultures that valued the relationship of humans to the natural world. In short, it advocates making choices with thought for the effect on seven generations in the future. How will my action today help or harm my great-great-great-great-great-grandchildren? WHEW! That seems like a lot of "greats," but if each generation is roughly 20 years, that is only thinking 140 years into the future. It is estimated that it takes a plastic bottle 450 years to break down in a landfill. In the United States, the average plastic use per person is in excess of 200 pounds per year. Do the math for seven generations to understand why we are struggling with waste management. This is where using the wisdom of our elders becomes helpful. In just three generations, our population has lost skills that our grandparents considered vital for survival, like sewing, canning, and gardening. Those tasks have been deemed trivial and tedious, even unnecessary by my generation. Until COVID. Nothing like a pandemic to flip our values upside down! Suddenly there is no bread on the shelves, milk is in short supply, and there's NO TOILET PAPER. Ummmmm....this could be a problem, people! Honestly, we didn't see dramatic difference in our daily life because we grow our own food and raise our own chickens. The shock came when I tried to order seeds and they were sold out! Seriously? Everyone became a gardener overnight? (Mental note: SAVE SEEDS.) No bread? No problem...I know how to bake delicious bread. Wait. There's no yeast on the shelves. My elders would have been more prepared because the Great Depression taught them that everything could be used and used again many times over. They wouldn't have needed store bought yeast because they would have had a sourdough starter ready to use. Seeds were routinely saved from one harvest to the next, and always from the best plants to insure good genetics in those seeds. Sewing extended the life of clothing, then transformed the same into quilts once the shirt could no longer be mended for wearing. They used glass, pottery, wood, metal, all things that are durable and intended for repeated use. Single use was expensive and there was no such thing as recycling. Even their flour sacks were made of cotton in pretty prints that were transformed into dresses and aprons. Personally, I am soaking up all the knowledge I can from my dad, who is 83 at the time of this writing. He was born on a farm, and has always had a love for the natural world. He has been taking me through the woods and pointing out the plants with medicinal or practical value, even something called "bear grass" that they used to hang hogs after slaughter. I would have thought it was a weed that needed to be mowed, but he knew its worth. Google can tell us a lot, but the personal connection with a senior is enriching on so many levels. Who is your elder that holds valuable information? What small changes can you make to improve life for that Seventh Generation? Just think: one day you will be the one imparting the wisdom, so gather it while you can! - Tracy
