It’s a crazy, amazing world.

Officially, I was out of school on Friday, June 6, as soon as I had my progress reports handed in and my cubicle cleaned. It didn’t feel that way, though.

I turned in my progress reports, cleaned my cubicle, and then took off to pick up Amigo at his sister’s apartment in Lake Geneva. We were on the road home when Amigo realized he’d forgotten his wallet. La Petite met us midway, and we were on track again.

Saturday was a busy day and a napping day. Amigo left for camp Sunday, so he spent Saturday doing his laundry and I helped – a little.

Sunday we took him to camp.

Monday could have been  my first day of Summer Break, but I signed up for a training session that lasted four days. as Thursday ended, I gave a deep sigh of relief.

Then, Friday, we drove to camp to pick him up and bring him home. Still busy, not feeling the break yet.

Saturday and Sunday I did relax a little, but I did it with La Petite. She needed a little moral support for a few days, and I was available.

Well, folks, now it’s Monday, and it’s not going to be a manic Monday. I’m done traveling (for now), and I plan to stay at home, do my own laundry, and weed parts of the garden. I might even sleep in and/or take a nap.  If you’re expecting a lot out of me, you’ll have to wait.

 

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Portion Sizes

Readers, I know that Blog Basics state “Nobody cares what you had for lunch!” but I’m going to chance it. Due to a rude awakening (99% blocked carotid artery, et. al.), I’m getting serious about keeping my blood pressure down. Task one: monitor the aforementioned blood pressure.

Petunia bought me a home monitor, and I’ve been faithfully using it since I came home from the hospital. Now that I have the numbers and I’ve learned a little about what those numbers mean, I want to move to the next step: do something to keep those numbers low.

In the meantime, I’m paying attention to my eating habits. By using the USDA’s DASH diet, I hope to keep the BP numbers below that mystical threshold. So far, I’m meeting my goal of eating 6-8 servings of fruits and vegetables a day. The tough part: what makes a serving? Well, I did find some guidelines. I think I can handle this.

Fruits and veggies will be easy for the foreseeable future: it’s Farmers’ Market season! My favorite market, the one that spans the entire downtown of my small city, is starting soon. Time to get out the cloth bags! Vegetable vendors, here I come!

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Everything’s coming up — pollinators?

Directly above my planting table, my storage spot for pots and soil and tools, a few newcomers are moving in.

wasp

wasp paper

They’re gone now. Don’t ask for details. It was a dark night in a backyard that likes to keep its secrets. Guy Noir himself could have staged a Raid and I wouldn’t reveal the details. No one was injured in the sting — well, no humans were stung. That’s the buzz, anyway.

And when my attempt at humor gets that bad, it’s time to stop blogging, wash the dirt out from under my nails, and put down the laptop.

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Weeding is Therapeutic

Weeding is productive and therapeutic and even enjoyable. I searched through old posts and found out that I’ve discussed the positives of weeding in the past. I mentioned this yesterday, too, in the context of the hay masquerading as straw.

Here’s one from June, 2007.

I enjoy weeding because I can see progress. My garden is divided into small sections, set apart by my stepping “stones” made from old deck and fence pieces. I set a goal of weeding one section at a time. When that’s done, I can quit weeding or choose to finish another section. This is a managable goal; I feel productive when I can see the results in one part of the plot. It spares me the frustration of not “finishing” the whole thing, which is of course an impossible goal. Today I chose one triangular section of the garden and weeded out the many mini maples that flew in from the lot behind ours. If I ever abandon this small plot of ground behind my garage, I predict the mini maples will take over, leaving room for a blanket of clover underneath. But for now, look out maples! I have garden gloves and I know how to use them.

Here’s an even older post from July, 2006.

Weeding feels good because:
  • I can’t hear the telephone.
  • Digging in the dirt is fun.
  • It doesn’t matter if I’m all sweaty and grimy.
  • I can appreciate the growth of my vegetables by comparing them to the weeds I’m pulling out.
  • I see the little flowers that mean the plants will bear fruit — some day.
  • I can laugh at the tiny “volunteer” tomato plants that grew where the rotten fruit dropped last fall.
  • The science teacher in me looks at all the clover and thinks, “Wow! There’s a lot of nitrogen in this soil! Who needs fertilizer?”
  • I notice the little grubs and worms that aerate the rich soil; and they’re almost (I said ALMOST) cute.
  • I notice how dark and rich the soil is, thanks to our home-grown compost.
  • The weeds (well, most of them) will become part of the cycle of life by decomposing in the compost bin.
  • Progress is noticeable. Every little bit of weeding shows results.
I heard a garden expert on the radio recommend that serious gardeners spend about 30 minutes a day weeding and maintaining. I don’t come near that, so I guess I’m not “serious” by his standards. I do keep it up, though, and get my hands dirty and produce good things to eat. My garden makes me happy. Isn’t that enough?

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The Truth about Straw Bales

I mentioned my dilemma about the straw bales. Did I have the right fertilizer? For that matter, did I have the right bales? We bought them from two different places last fall, and it seemed like one might have labeled the bales Straw when they were really Hay.

Hay? Straw? I’m a city girl, despite my green thumb and green attitude. I didn’t know straw from hay. So I did what a good virtual teacher does; I asked a student and her family for advice.

My students live all over Wisconsin, and several live on farms. I asked about the bales, describing the one set as looking straw-like and the other growing like a Chia Pet.

One of these things is not like the other.

One of these things is not like the other.

I learned that straw is what’s left over after the wheat is harvested and removed from the stalk, and hay is a grass. Yep, that’s it. I can extend this to say I learned not to buy a bale of “straw” at a grocery store. Uh-huh. This batch was left over from a fall display, so the store sold them off for a few bucks each. The rest are from a garden center. I know where I’ll go if I need a set of straw bales again.

Meanwhile, I took time to yank most of the growth from the hay bales. They’ll still work for planting; I just might have to weed them more often than not. And that’s alright. Weeding, after all, is therapeutic, too.

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