"Look, there's a tomato!"

"Look, there's a tomato!" I shouted to my husband through the screen door. Much to my dismay, I did not inherit my grandmother's green thumb. Her house hosted a large garden and extensive flower beds. She could coax African violets to bloom and keep orchids thriving. My plant endeavors are often foiled by my own lack of plant care or my cat. But today, when I reluctantly slid open the door and hopped onto the balcony, library book in hand, my sour mood began to dissipate with the sight of some small green tomatoes. While I cannot take full credit for for this gardening triumph since one of my husband's fellow teachers gave us the plants already well established, I can take full advantage of the surge of joy. When my mood is off, I retreat from the everyday details. I retreat inside myself, thinking I can resolve my mood or emotions by the sheer force of thinking hard enough. I retreat into my phone, thinking I'll find sufficient happiness in a couple of rushes of dopamine. I don't know about you, but this retreat rarely does me much good. Often, I'll end up with a down mood plus a serving of anxiety on top.

However, when I turn outward, there is joy to be found. Sitting now, writing on my balcony, there is joy in turning my face to the sun like the lovely white flowers in the pot to my left. Unlike a true gardener, I don't remember what they are called, but I can imitate their example and turn my face to the sun and let it warm and recharge me. I can sip my cold brew and savor the creamy whole milk mixed in. I can relish in the relative quiet that it is a treat for the parent of a toddler. Pulling myself out of a persistent bad mood is a not a matter of willpower, but rather a matter of slowing down. "Slowly, gently, not all at once" as a therapist once told me. It doesn't fix all my problems and do my work for me, but it sure does make it seem a heck of a lot less overwhelming.

So here's to slowing down and savoring. Here's to rejoicing in toddler antics and joining in with toddler laughs. Here's to new green cherry tomatoes and the little things.