Intelligent Voters – encore

Readers; do you remember Grandma Daisy? She contributed to the blog as part of the Voter’s Voice series. Grandma Daisy’s voice gave Compost Happens a different perspective: the perspective of looking back in time, viewing events with the advantage of 20/20 hindsight. Well, folks, take yourselves back to the future and look at the creativity of Wisconsin citizens and the reaction from the top.

Oh, grandkiddos, you might remember that in the recall election of 2012, Governor Walker’s supporters weren’t exactly showing their best sides. Campaign signs spelled governor with an -er, as if the voters either didn’t know the difference or didn’t care. 

You might also remember the Overpass Light Brigade and the Solidarity Singers. Walker had money on his side, so his opponents invested in creativity and time. Both the OLB and the Singers continued their activity after the election. They publicized issues in non-violent methods designed to get attention rather than cause trouble. 

The Governor and his security detail didn’t see it that way. The Solidarity Singers sang protest songs in the Capitol rotunda every weekday at noon. The Capitol Police, acting on a hastily-made policy requiring permits for any public gathering, began making arrests and issuing tickets. For singing, you say? I hear you, children. Singing in the rotunda was now a crime. 

The tactic backfired, of course. Instead of discouraging protesters, the aggressive action encouraged more people to show up and make noise, er, music. The Solidarity Singers stood up for their first amendment rights to free speech and the peaceably assemble. They knew that the greater number of arrests simply meant more PR for their actions and their issues. 

As you might expect, young ‘uns, there were naysayers. There were folks who showed up just to watch the handcuffs go on and to poke fun at the so-called musical mayhem. You might not be surprised, I dare say, that some of the naysayers were in the same category as those who displayed error-filled yard signs.

Who?

Who?

Readers, Grandma Daisy is back and ready to tell tales of the elections of 2016. What will this feisty feminist have to say on the road to the White House? Predictions, anyone?

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Love Is – a Rain Barrel or two

This year’s rain barrel set-up is complicated. First we didn’t have a garage. Then we had a garage with no gutter or downspout. After that, we had a gutter and downspout, but we didn’t have the right support to get the barrels up high enough to be convenient and easy to use.

We now have the cinder blocks and bricks (Thanks, Home Depot and Habitat ReStore). When we can summon the energy, we’ll pile up the cinder blocks and set the rain barrels on top of them. In the meantime, I give you an encore featuring Chuck’s model train layout. Enjoy.

Chuck, dear husband of mine, models trains in HO scale. For the uninitiated, HO translates as small. Tiny. Put-on-your-glasses and look very closely for details. Itty bitty.

The building below is part of a granary in his layout. The rain barrel is about the size of my pinkie fingernail, if not smaller. Yes, dear readers; he made a rain barrel in his train layout in tribute to his wife’s green philosophies.


Now if only I can stop him from buying the shopping bag that says, “I carry this bag because my wife cares about the environment”!

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Dandelions? Just a flower out of place.

This encore comes from a pre-rock garden era. The rock garden took the place of the mint pictured here. If I ever plant mint, I’ll do it in a container so it doesn’t take over the world, er, yard. Here you go, folks, an encore presentation: Dandelions.

Have you seen the commercials? The ones that imply that dandelions are evil, nasty, even toxic creatures that intentionally invade your (gulp) Lovely Lawn. The commercials want you to buy their product, of course: the Chemical Killer of Evil Dandelions. Here’s one fighting for its life in the middle of the mint. I predict the mint will win. Mint is a very aggressive plant that doesn’t give up easily.

But chemicals? Expense aside, I don’t need them. I don’t want them on the mint; I might use it in cooking or to mix a mojito. I don’t sweat the dandelions; I use them to offset the high cost of lettuce.

Buttercup loves them.

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I Love a Parade – encore

From a few years ago – we go to the Memorial Day parade every year. This year, Amigo has a gig with the Barbershop Quartet Chorus. They’ll be singing all patriotic songs, of course, and he’s loving it.

Every year we start Memorial Day by throwing our lawn chairs in Amigo’s bike basket and hitting the road for half a block to stake our claim on a good place to watch the parade. Seriously, it’s half a block from our home. We watch from the front yard, and when the police are putting the traffic barriers up, we head over and park ourselves in the road under our favorite shade tree. Here’s Amigo and MIL cheering on the municipal city band. Chuck? He was relaxing.

Amigo didn’t look excited to see my alma mater march past. Well, at least he applauded.
I tried to get my neighbor’s son in this shot with his baritone – instead, it looks like part of the seventy-six trombone section from Music Man.
And then we went home. Home, to help out our “real live veteran in our front yard,” as Amigo put it. FIL didn’t want to struggle all the way down the street with his walker, so he settled under our mock cherry tree and read a book. We gave him a little flag next to his lawn chair so he could be part of the festivities.
Happy Memorial Day, everyone. May your family members in the services stay safe and return to you soon.

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Potential – encore

This area no longer exists. About two thirds of it is now garage (concrete slab, at the moment) and the rest is a huge pile of dirt, er, soil. I salvaged enough raspberry canes to start over, but there won’t be a lot of room. Fortunately, Chuck expanded the raised beds for me last year, and I’ve been playing around with container gardening on the deck and around the house. Enjoy the look back.

>A few weeks ago, my garden was just a deep brown color, waiting for seeds and seedlings. Now it has little hints of green here and there.

Peas and beans! The peas already look healthier than they did a year ago.

Cauliflower and (maybe) broccoli emerge, seeking sun and water.

But the bunny food section? I must get those maple tree seeds out of this area. It’s a lettuce bed, not a helicopter pad!

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Neighbors (encore)

First posted in August of 2013 just after tornadoes came through the area. 

The Living Room

The Living Room

They called it their temporary living room.

Chairs, table, phone

Chairs, table, phone

Really, what more did they need?

Ye Olde Rotary Phone

Ye Olde Rotary Phone

Someone discovered that a rotary phone worked while the up to date touch tones didn’t. Without Internet access, the old fashioned phone book came in handy.

Camp stove and tea kettle

Camp stove and tea kettle

Camp stove plus tea kettle for boiling water equals coffee and social time!

It wasn’t the most beautiful day in the neighborhood, though. At the other end of the driveway, the next door neighbors’ house looked like this. They were still gracious and friendly shared their hot water with me every morning. Thank heavens for good neighbors.

'Nuff said.

‘Nuff said.

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Believing in a Future

This is an encore from almost exactly a year ago. I had a close call, followed by a night in the Neurology Intermediate Care Unit (the next best thing to the ICU), and then a slow, steady recovery. A full year later, I can dig in the dirt successfully. Reviewing this post reminds me to take nothing for granted. 

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 almost May, and by the end of the 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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Books – Ambrosia for the Mind

An encore post from several years ago – I still remember the child popping up and looking confused. I would have hugged him, but I’m sure he would have been utterly embarrassed. As we’re saying goodbye to my book-loving stepfather, this post reminds me that books are amazing.

It was a typical class transition, which in my class means a struggle to get everyone to shift gears mentally and physically. Then, guide all 25 of them into the hallway (quietly!) and across the hall for Science, and welcome the other group of 9- and 10-year-olds into my classroom for Social Studies. We made it through these maneuvers, I allowed one girl and one boy to use the rest rooms, and then turned out the lights and turned on the overhead projector to introduce the details of the upcoming research project.
Suddenly a confused-looking face peeked up from the Book Nook corner behind the computers. One of mine, looking confused, stood up and shook his head a little. He had been so involved in the book he was reading, so totally lost in its world, that he never noticed the rest of the class putting away their math books, getting out their science folders, and leaving the room. He smiled sheepishly, gathered his materials and left the room.
No, I didn’t give him grief. I couldn’t. You see, I recognized a little of the fourth grade me in this kid. My mother remembers the time I walked home from school reading a book and I walked right past our house. Books? They’re great. Who needs TV?

In case you’re wondering, the book was a Junior Classic, an abridged version of Robinson Crusoe that I picked up for $1 at a thrift store.
It was a dollar well spent.

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Flat Stanley returns – Encore

I might carry my watering can purse to a few places – like a traveling gnome, but much cuter. Flat Stanley, however, has been traveling for many years. Here’s his visit to my workplace – an encore post later reprinted on my workplace’s national blog!

(By guest blogger Flat Stanley)

 I went to work today with Daisy.
Daisy is a teacher in a newfangled kind of school; she teaches online.

Daisy’s students (and those of the school) live all over the state of Wisconsin. There’s a map in the school offices showing where the students live. Wow! They’re really spread out.

Daisy took me around the high school side of the school. I met the Social Studies teacher, and we fooled around with Google Maps. He was looking for Westminster Abbey.

The high school language arts teacher has a cubicle full of posters encouraging reading – everything from Shakespeare to (be still my flattened heart) the Cat in the Hat.

Ah, high school science. I look forward to biology and earth science. I have a little more math to learn before starting physics. It’ll take more than just knowing how to add, or so I’ve been told.

Back in Daisy’s cubicle, she taught me to use a rubric to grade writing projects.
She looked over my first one and decided to grade the rest herself. I guess teaching writing isn’t my strength – yet.

Well, science is still one of my favorite subjects, so Daisy logged me into a Virtual Class in middle school science.

Cool. Very cool. The teacher called on students and then let them “write” on the virtual whiteboard to connect vocabulary words with their meaning. This would be a great way to learn, at least for a flat geek like me. I could keep on traveling, as long as I had Internet access.

I looked over Ms. W’s shoulder as she worked on lesson plans.

Then I moved once again to middle school language arts. They write a lot of essays. Wow!

We couldn’t stay away from Daisy’s desk for long, so I offered to help her make phone calls.
A fifth grader needed help with her math. Ooh, those multi-step problems. They rock my socks! Wait. I don’t wear socks. Never mind.

Daisy and her coworkers were great hosts. They told me if I want to teach like they do, I need a working knowledge of computers – and a talent for making coffee.

Thanks to Flat Stanley, visitor from Irving, TX, for the guest post today.

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