Cathy Bowman,  May 31, 2008

Gas prices are up. Food prices are up. What's a person to do? It's easy to feel discouraged. The best way to cope? Start small. Can't grow an entire garden? Put a pot of basil in the window. My daughters have planted two strawberry plants (Rebecca and Charlie) and one tomato plant (Maggie) in clay pots that sit on our tiny terrace. My neighbor here in England says Prince Charles talks to his plants. It seems to work; my 8-year-old coos at her veggies, and they double in size every few days. We're battling an army of cigar-sized slugs, but it's a start. There is nothing quite like the thrill of watering a lump of damp soil for days, waiting and waiting and waiting for something green to appear. You make breakfast, you turn away to fill your cup of tea and - Voila!  - the arugula seedlings have pushed their little heads into the sunshine, the children are laughing and clapping and you feel like Thoreau. Gardening may not fix the world, but it sure makes me feel better.

Cathy Bowman,  May 18, 2008

I just went to Shakespeare's Globe Theatre in London and watched A Midsummer Night's Dream. For about $10, I got to stand in front of the stage and watch the drama unfold above my chin. What struck me about the play was how fresh it seemed, even though I've seen it performed elsewhere. I thought about how often I skip experiences because I think I've already had them. It's like looking up at the sky. You know it's going to be blue or gray, because it's always blue or gray. Then one day the sun and the fog mingle and you think, “Wow, that cloud looks like a dancing bear in a cowboy hat.” You can walk along the river where you always walk when - Boom! - you find yourself having a spiritual conversation with yourself. Or maybe your dog. It's the same with computers. They are boxes of unopened emails, taking up space like the blender and the toaster. How wonderful that people are finding spiritual nourishment through podcasts. What a fresh and creative way to use technology.

Cathy Bowman,  May 9, 2008

I was at a dinner party in London recently where politics was the main course at my end of the table. Between the spanikopita and the chicken wings, the English guests were shaking their heads about the city's eccentric new mayor, Boris Johnson. "How did he get elected? Do you know anyone who voted for him? He looks like an overgrown toddler!" It was a relief to talk about a political race that was not You-Know-What. A teacher from my daughter's preschool stopped me on the playground today and asked, "What do you think? Hillary or Obama?" She confessed she was watching the Democratic race with the zeal of a soap opera fan. When London elects a new mayor, poof! The old one disappears almost as soon as the ballots are counted. It may be a shock, but mercifully, the race ends. It reminds me of a French film that spins a tale and then just...stops. You see Fin and you know the flick's over. In the US, I'm praying for a happy ending.