Tea & sympathy in my garden

Good morning, DMV*. It’s Monday, Feb. 9.

To be clear: I am not a gardener.

I have a yard, but no garden to speak of really. My metaphorical garden, however, is a glorious burst of dahlias, dandelions, daffodils and ideas, and all of you are welcome to visit.

I spent so much time talking about “my garden” in recent years at the Washington Post. Morale was low. People were scared, anxious and angry. We were all required to return to the office and encouraged to spend time with our colleagues in person. So each day, I’d walk around the newsroom and chat with people.

But “how are you?” had become such a loaded question — as it has been for many people across the DMV struggling with RIFs, the FORK and other mechanisms to oust them from the federal workforce. In the newsroom, the response to my question was preceded with a heavy sigh. “Well, you know … ,“ each person would say with a shrug, before launching into the stress and heartache that had overtaken our collective brain space.

That’s when I’d break out my imaginary garden.

There are the things in our control, and the things out of our control. I’d point down and draw an imaginary circle around my feet and say, “This is all I can control. I like to think of it as my garden.”

Everything outside this area is beyond my control. What the bosses are thinking and planning: beyond my control. I can read about it, know about it, but I can’t give it too much time in my brain space otherwise it will do my head in. So I put all of that in a box outside my garden.

What I do day to day: in my control. I’m going to tend to my garden and make it the prettiest little garden I can. “You are invited to join me,” I told my newsroom friends. “You can help me tend it. We can share tea and sympathy. We can grow our garden. Invite others to join us. We will make it beautiful.”

The flowers on which I showered most of my attention were the Post Local newsletter and all of you, dear readers. I had other responsibilities — helping to assign and edit local stories; but I spent the bulk of my time and heart on Post Local.

So fast forward: The Post “eliminated” me … and here I am, digging up all the plants and flowers in my lovely garden and replanting them here. They’ve yet to take root in this cold earth, but I’ve faith they’ll flourish.

I am not able to reach every single Post Local subscriber. Can you help me? Could you please forward Alisa’s Daily Dose to anyone you know who has read me in Post Local or who might like to read me now?

On another note, I’m going to try offering you a selection of things to do, places to go and people to see. I start with the monks.

If you’ve been following the Walk for Peace — the Buddhist monks walking 2,300 miles from Fort Worth, Texas, to D.C. to raise awareness of inner peace and mindfulness — they’ve arrived in the DMV. According to their Facebook page, they’ll be in Alexandria today and spend the night in Arlington.

Here’s their schedule for tomorrow through Thursday in D.C. and Maryland. Last week, massive crowds turned out to see the monks on the 100th day of their walk in Richmond, Virginia.

Catherine Tunis, a resident of Takoma Park, Maryland, sent me this photo with a note about how the snow has allowed for more wildlife sightings.

“In the past few days, we have seen different groups of deer bedding down in a neighbor's yard, multiple sightings of a red fox trotting through yards, and this bunny huddling against the cold,” she wrote to me.

Thanks so much for your emails of support and your photos. I likely won’t be able to reply individually to everyone, but know that I appreciate you. I’m still taking photos by email for now — but looking for a better system because my personal email inbox, which I usually keep quite tidy, is overflowing at the moment.

* And for those of you wondering: The DMV is how residents here call the D.C. region, which includes Maryland and Virginia. I’d get emails about this every few weeks, so now you know.