Dear Squirrel;
It’s not an even trade. I’m sure you meant well, leaving something behind for me when you nibbled on my garlic scapes, but it wasn’t enough. The little token you left in the basket isn’t edible. I can’t plant it. It’s not even picturesque, but I took a picture anyway.
Ahem.
So hear me now, loud and clear. You, small furry creature, I’m talking to you.
Get out of my garlic, punk.
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!
Here it is, or was, the day of the demo crew. They said it came down easily. We weren’t surprised.
Timber!!
That was the view from the kitchen during demolition. It was rather fascinating. The process is very methodical and planned.
garage slab
Now you can get an idea of how big the garage will be. I know we will love it (I keep telling myself) because of the additional space. But do you see what’s behind the garage-to-be?
Behind The Slab
The firewood isn’t mine. Don’t worry about that. It’s the Big Pile of Dirt. I knew we’d have soil left over. In fact, I planned on it. But whoa, baby, that’s a lot of topsoil that needs to be moved to my raised bed. It’ll get done. I just hope I can get it done before planting time.
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.
Once again I find myself feeling fortunate to live in the Great Lakes region. While California dries up to a dust bowl level or worse, it’s easy to feel smug for conserving water where I am. But then I realize – my own water-saving techniques would be a drop in the bucket in Southern California (pun unintended, sort of).
As soon as our new garage is built, I’ll set up the rain barrels to catch and collect rain water. Those rain barrels are wonderful. I have two, and they provide enough water to keep my garden growing. If I’m honest, however, these two big barrels collect enough water in a typical year. The south west region of the U.S. has had several years in a row that were anything but typical. A rain barrel is only good when rain falls.
I was feeling virtuous for reusing sink water. After washing a few dishes, I scooped up the soapy water and watered my tomato and pepper seedlings. Plants seem to thrive with this not-quite-pristine water. But then again – my water bills are fairly low because, well, because we live in the Great Lakes basin. There’s a lot of fresh water to go around. Even this sink full of the valuable liquid would boost my water bill in the hot sun of SoCal.
And that takes me back to an incident that soaked our front yard until it felt like a sponge or quicksand: the Water-Gas Leak Disaster. When an irresponsible worker drove a bobcat over the curb stop that directs water from the main into our home, that break flowed into the ground until it could hold no more. Then it sent gallons and gallons into our basement. The rest is history – bad memories, to be sure, but history.
I remember talking to a man from the water department who explained the damage to me. I reacted with an “Oh, no, will we be billed for this leak?” He assured me no, because it hadn’t reached the meter. Unfortunately, though, every ounce was treated water gone to waste. Treating water costs money, no matter who pays it.
When our curb stop was broken and the water flowed underground, our small front lawn became very, very muddy. If I lived in a drought stricken area, I’d be wise to not even have a lawn. A green grass lawn uses a lot of water just for basic maintenance.
If I’m to draw conclusions from this rambling, I guess I shouldn’t be feeling too smug about my own water conservation efforts, but I should keep doing what I’m doing. If I can expand those efforts, that might be even better.
It’s quiet here. Chuck is enjoying a model train show with his train buddies. Amigo is upstairs listening to a game – major or minor league, I don’t know. Which sport is up for grabs, too. He’s hanging out in his room with a tall cup of Sunny D, listening to something out in the very wide world of sports.
Meanwhile, I’m watching the Brewers, down two to nothing in the top of the 6th inning to the St. Louis Cardinals. This has not been a good start to the season in Milwaukee. Sometimes I wonder if the racing sausages are training better than the team! But seriously, maybe the Brew Crew will start slowly and end with the bang this year – the opposite of last year.
I watered the seedlings under their grow lights. Some are still weak; I may try the fan trick. Put a fan on low speed and let it gently blow over the seedlings to help them build up stronger stems. Well, take a look, people. Do you think it’ll work?
Falling over the edges with the weight of their leaves
I’ll give it a try and let you know, folks. In the meantime, helpful hints for me scraggly starter plants are welcome.
The short version of the story: I saw this.
The green option.
I said to myself, “Oh, self, that is amazing. Can I find one like it?”
So I did.
Pink Purse hanging in cubicle
Tonight, we went out to a local restaurant for dinner. I set my purse on a shelf next to the table. It seemed to work.
The waiter did a double take.
So, friends in the blogosphere, expect more adventures of the Pink Watering Can Purse. I predict more adventures like this one.
I have felt uneasy about lawn services for a long time. We cut back on ours, but Chuck wasn’t quite ready to give it up altogether. A post from the Smart Ingredients Blog arrived in my inbox, and it made a lot of sense. I really don’t want those pesticides seeping into the soil near my garden, no matter how seldom.
In the post called Intentional Eating, the blogger discussed ingredients that are harmful and hidden in processed foods. Here’s a sampler.
Her list was longer, but you get the idea. The solution? We’re doing a lot of it already, but I know my family could get better. Suggestions start with:
To read the entire post about Intentional Eating, go to the Organizing Dinner Blog.
This is not a sponsored post. It just reinforced what I’d been thinking and gave some specific examples. Readers, what else do you do to cut out the chemicals in your family’s foods?
They’re here! The seeds are coming up. They’re kind of spindly, though, and they’re stretching their little necks – er, stems – toward the wee bit of sunshine that comes through the windows.
Okay, everybody, lean!
I set them outside a few days ago when the temperatures got near 60. Then I brought them inside to soak in the heat of the grow lights. If I can do that a few more times, it’ll help the spindly stems strengthen. Say that ten times fast, if you can.
I have herbs that wintered indoors, tomatoes, peppers, and — radishes.
Radishes in coffee cans – Chuck’s suggestion.
We’ll see how they all grow. Most years, I put the pedal to the metal, er, the seedlings in the soil at the end of May. These little tiny starters should be ready by them.
I blog about life, my life, and that includes a lot of gardening, canning, and otherwise preserving summer’s fresh bounty for the long winter months. Every now and then, I get comments or emails from so-called Doomsday Prepper groups. These are people who share my fascination with self-sufficiency, but for different reasons. Many Prepper groups expect the world as we know it to end soon and without warning. Their fears range from the massive changes due to global warming to a complete collapse of our government.
I’m not a doomsday type of person, but I do like to stock up when the veggies are fresh and I have time to can. This stock-up process gives us good quality jams and pickles and more goodies in the pantry and locally grown vegetables in the freezer. We don’t do it to prepare for some mythical End of the World, but it does ease our winter grocery budget and bring a taste of summer to the table when there is snow on the ground.
So when I started reading Michael Perry’s book Coop, I could identify with his statement in the Prologue.
Whether through prescience or too much nervous reading, we have developed a low-key doomsday mindset regarding the imminent future, and believe the time has come to store up some potatoes and teach the young’uns how to forage.
He hit it right on the head. Maybe I should stop reading so much dystopian fiction. Or maybe I should just water the seedlings, spread the compost, and always remember to vote.