BTTY Bites

No.1 - “A common cause of time wasters is largely under the executive's control and can be eliminated by him. That is the time of others he himself wastes.” - Peter Drucker

No. 2 - “People are motivated by one of two things: Either avoiding loss or acquiring potential gain.” - Phil Jones

No. 3 - Did you know that woodpeckers have tongues? I mean really long tonguges. I took about 1,600 photos of this woodpecker the other day and this shot of his tongue (it is male) made me do some research. It’s so long it wraps around the back of his head. He kept at this tree until he broke it in half. Just wild.

A Thought

Tomatoes.

I think about tomatoes. A lot.

Yes, they are technically fruits, but did you know that an 1893 Supreme Court case ruled that tomatoes should be taxed as vegetables? Also, tomatoes were first domesticated by the Aztecs, who called them by a name that meant “plump thing with a navel.” I love that. I also love eating tomatoes, growing tomatoes, and sharing tomatoes. I have Grandad to thank for that.

He had a bit of a garden patch - probably a couple of acres of garden, actually. Well plowed and lined with all the vegetables. It was the tomatoes I liked best. We would pick a handful, put them in his old beat-up thick plastic bucket with a rope handle, and drive back to his garage on his small tractor-mower. Sometimes, you’d find me on his lap, trying to drive. Other times, I’d be tucked into the corner of the plywood trailer he towed.

Up over a hill, along the fence line, and then down to the garage. He built that garage himself. There was a penny he tucked behind a translucent rock that glimmered when the sun was just right. We’d park next to his big tractor and take in the combined smell of gasoline and cut crass. He’d get me over to his workbench and lift me up. It was always a bit of a mess, strewn with the detritus of actual work. He’d reach for the salt, slice into the unwashed tomato, sprinkle a little salt, and pop it in his mouth - I can still see the edge of his mouth as he grinned. I now imagine he was smiling at something more than the tomato. Then a slice for me. We’d both start nodding. Behind us, through the unfinished 2x4 window frame, his two steers wandered in the ‘north forty.’

Success?

My grandfather was, at least from what I saw, a great man. He retired as a Colonel from the US Army, was married for 65 years, went to war three times, and retired to a small community in the mountains, where he spent 30 years donating his time to improving that community. That’s not what made him great to me. It added to the mystique, but not what I think about today. He makes me think about success.

I’m not quite sure what success is, but when people ask me what it means to me, I talk about a little green hill with little people running around. My fondest memories were on that hill we drove over in his little blue tractor. Up until December of 2007, there were two doting grandparents. The kind that eat unwashed tomatoes, play frisbee, and teach you how to make jello. Or the ones that take you to pick fresh blackberries on the fence line and make blackberry jam together - all while she implored me not to get blackberry on my new shirt.

One year, Gramma sat me next to the window overlooking the garage to tell me a \ story. It was close to Halloween, and it was a ghost story. Then, in the distance, a ghost darted over the crest of that little hill. That was Grandad with a sheet over his head. Amazing. At least it was amazing to that six-year-old.

Discipline?

So success to me is being that for someone. Maybe it’s grandkids if we are lucky, maybe not. A little green hill with Princess Buttercup, a community, a small patch to tend, and humans to love. There is a path that I need to take to get there and it has me thinking about discipline. A lot. So, I asked myself: What does discipline really mean? Here’s what I came up with.

Controlling your desire for something now for something you desire more, later.

Whether your success is a green hill, another zero in your bank account, or something else, it will take discipline. If I want to run with that sheet over my head down our hill one day, I have to be here still and be able to move as nimbly as the Colonel could at 70. When my alarm goes off, I want to stay in bed, but I go for a run. That’s discipline. Or willpower. Or whatever. I don’t always win that battle, but I try to remember what’s important. It’s a green hill. It’s tomatoes. It’s raising baby chicks. It’s being there for their wedding, being there for their losses, and trading something I desire now for something I want more later.

Desire is a strong word, and I’m using it intentionally. Some desires are clear, like fresh tomatoes in summer. Others grow quietly and hidden, like weeds. Discipline is not just about control—it’s about paying attention to what is pulling you. If we don’t watch what’s growing in our garden, we won’t know what to weed and what to water.

That’s what I’m thinking about this week. I hope you’re good. Be good. And let’s find that hill.

Kelly

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The Long Harvest: On Discipline, Tomatoes, and Delayed Desires