Monthly Archives: May 2014

Compost – it happens

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Chuck wanted to know where to put the ashes when he cleaned out the fireplace. I told him to dump them in the small compost bin. He replied “The pretty, fake terra cotta, un-green plastic one?” Hah, my dear, it’s made from recycled materials AND I got it free in exchange for posting a review. That must be worth something in the O.K. household.

Anyway, it reminded me of some fun I had with La Petite when this compost bin was new. Here you are, folks, from a few years back – the new bin. 

I’m a garden geek. My son calls me a green freak. My daughter? You’ll see.

Husband tolerates and even supports my green proclivities. In fact, he brought home my first composter and later bought me a pitchfork to go with it. Lately I’ve been hinting that I need a second compost bin. “What’s wrong with this one?” he asked. “Nothing’s wrong with it; it’s full.”

That was in May. Luckily, compost compacts as it decomposes, making room for more. Now it’s August, and the bin is filled to the brim with organic matter. It needs stirring, and then I’d really like to leave it alone for a full year – a full twelve months or more. That means next spring I would not empty the bin and till it into the garden soil; I’d let it sit until the following spring instead, giving everything a better chance to decompose completely. But meanwhile, where would my kitchen scraps and yard waste go? Enter the new composter.


My new composter is smaller and cuter than my big beautiful bin. It has some nice features, too. This composter has a base and an insert to keep the solids off the bottom and let the liquids, the “compost tea,” drain off, and a spigot in front for collection. Compost tea makes a great fertilizer, I’ve been told.

When I want to empty the compost, I simply open the back. It stays open nicely, which will make it simple to shovel the rich soil enhancer into my wheelbarrow.


The holes in the sides have purpose: they allow air to circulate and speed up the process, and the holes are big enough that I can poke a broom handle or stick inside to aerate the compost itself. And last, I mentioned it’s somewhat smaller than my old one. It’s still a hefty size – big enough to fit a college senior inside. Yes, that’s La Petite, modeling the new composter for all of my lovely readers.

As soon as I decide where to place it, I’ll post more pictures! Then I’ll fill it with kitchen scraps and weeds and other organic goodies, and let the compost happen.

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Cooking the Old Fashioned, Newfangled Way

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I subscribe to the feed for a cooking blog called How to Cook Like Your Grandmother. The trend in kitchens has been swinging in this direction for a while, away from mixes and pre-made frozen foods, back into cooking from scratch. Once in a while, when I’m just not capable of cooking (for whatever reason) we’ll go back to the old frozen pizza. Most of the time, though, we make the effort to put something good on the table and into our bodies.

Chuck was exhausted from a weekend of travel. Amigo was happy and tired from a weekend of travel. I was a little better off, but not much, just ten days out from a very scary and exhausting hospital experience. I’m still scrubbing off the bandage marks.

To put supper on the table, Chuck went out to do a whirlwind grocery shopping trip. Bunny food, a few other necessities, and a fully cooked rotisserie chicken were on his list. Meanwhile, back at the O.K. Chorale, I grabbed some frozen corn (frozen last summer when it was fresh), a small container of frozen red and green peppers, and tossed all of this into the steamer to cook. Somehow, even as wrecked as we felt, we put a decent meal on for supper.

Afterwards, I took a few minutes to be inspired by How to Cook Like Your Grandmother, a post still sitting in my inbox. . Tired, but not willing to quit quite yet, I took the bones from the chicken, the veggie water from the steamer, and a couple pieces of onion and I made a chicken broth. I had to be in the kitchen making lunch for tomorrow, so I rationalized I might as well get a broth simmering while I worked.

It was worth it. The broth looked thick and tasty, I got my lunch packed and a couple of options onto Amigo’s shelf in the refrigerator, and then diced up a little lettuce and tomato for the next night’s tacos.

When I’m tired and running almost on empty, sometimes I make the best use of my time. When everything is said and done, I can relax and go to bed knowing I’ve put in a good effort to feed the family and we didn’t even need to resort to frozen pizza – yet.

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Gardening in Three Minutes a Day

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I’m still following the “Three Minutes a Day” philosophy in getting the garden ready to go – er, ready to grow. Three minutes are often all I can spare these days. Three minutes of time or three minutes of energy or three minutes of sunshine – until the weekend, that is. So I wonder. Does worry count? Thought? Decision making? Dilemma solving?

Dilemma Number One: weak, wimpy seedlings. I decided to try Miracle Grow potting soil this year, and the seedling came up faster. I’m not so sure that’s a good thing, though. Those tomatoes and peppers of any height (relatively speaking, of course) have weak, white, spindly stems. These plants need a lot of sun and a lot of fresh air. They’re too weak to stand up right now. What to do, what to do?

Dilemma Number Two: straw bale prep. I need to review the research, buy the necessary fertilizer, and set up my calendar for prepping the straw bales. Where is the best place to buy fertilizer?

Dilemma Number Three: I plan to move the mini-greenhouse shelves to the deck later this week. What shall I do with the grow light that’s hanging on the shelves now?

Dilemma Number Four: The mini greenhouse shelves are not big enough to hold all the seedlings. Which should go outside first: the weaker or the stronger?

Today’s three minutes happened twice. One: I put the seedlings outside to soak in some real sun and to toughen up in the light breeze. Two: I water the seedlings.

And on we go. So much to do, so little strength – I’m as weak as some of the seedlings. When they’re falling over instead of waving in the wind, I’m getting a little bit done and then sitting down to rest.

Somehow, no matter what the dilemma, the plots seem to take shape.

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Believing in a Future

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Planting a garden means believing in a future.

Didn’t I post a quote like that in the recent past? I’ll search the archives. When I ran a quick search for “garden future quotes” I found everything but this one, so I’m unable to source it quite yet.

Meanwhile, back at the O.K. Chorale, I am sitting still and resting, stretching my legs as much as I can tolerate, and keeping calm. Mostly.

The big bunny still takes her responsibilities seriously in the role of service animal. I took a half day at work, stayed home for the morning, and even though I’d gotten up to feed her at the normal time, she came in a little later and made sure I was up. First she thumped, loudly, and then she scrabbled and scratched the blankets hanging down from the bed. I gave in and got up, and then she sat watching closely while I checked my blood pressure — so closely that I almost expected her to stick a paw in the cuff and check her own.

I’m discouraged from anything resembling physical effort. Bending, lifting, twisting, and straining are all on the “no-no” lists. That means digging in the dirt, spreading topsoil, carrying pots of seedlings out to the deck, or wrestling with a rain barrel are all outlawed. For now, that makes sense. I am stiff and sore, and I tire easily. I don’t know how long the remnants of last week’s hematoma (look it up, and trust me, it hurt) will get in my way.

On the bright side (there’s a little resilient thinking) Mother Nature has delivered rain for most of this week. The weather hasn’t encouraged garden work, so I miss it a little less. But as soon as the sun peeks out from behind the clouds, I’m going to want to garden.

Gardening has always been an ingredient in my healing, a strong part of any recovery. Taking the time to start seeds indoors kept me looking forward after my hysterectomy. Now it’s May, and by the end of this month I hope to have my plants in the dirt.

That’s where the faith in the future really comes in. When it’s time to plant, and I’m looking around and envisioning the harvest, my belief in the future is at its strongest.

 

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