I was in the greenhouse picking chamomile flowers for tea a few days ago, and silly me was being a little grumpy about how long it as taking to fill my basket with the tiny flowers. Each flower must be carefully, individually plucked by hand and it took me about an hour of constant plucking to get enough to feel like it was worth doing. Not nearly as instantly gratifying as scooping up an armful of kale, or lopping off heads of broccoli. Tedious, even.

But then I thought –“Who complains about having to spend an hour picking sweet-smelling flowers, of all things? And in my very own greenhouse, on my very own beautiful farm in Alaska?” Wow. How selfish of me.

I need to remember how lucky I am to be able to have the luxury of spending an our in this way, when people all over the world are spending their hours in much, much worse ways.

Consider my attitude adjusted. I’ll think about this lesson every time I drink a cup of chamomile tea this winter, and remember just how blessed I am.