Author Archives: Daisy

Weeding is Therapeutic

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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

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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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There’s a map for that – or an app

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Sometimes I wonder if I seem like a diva-type to the folks in the main office in Baltimore. Whenever they ask if I’m willing to be “author of record” on a blog post, I insist on having input into the post before my name goes on it.

This one was no different. The research was already done by someone in the main office or the agency that works with them. I reworded several awkward phrases, inserted some simple explanations to define terms, and made it sound more like me. Since one of the reasons the office calls on me is because my posts are supposedly full of personality, I think I can add my personality if they want to add my name.

Anyway, they managed to link to two of my previous posts (Flat Stanley and Pop Culture),  so I tweaked the rest to make it mine.

Here it is: Navigating the Summer with Family-Friendly Apps.

Don’t get lost now.

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The Kindness of Family

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In the style of an old-fashioned neighborhood barn raising, my family dug holes and spread dirt and got sweaty and otherwise put themselves out so that I can play in the dirt again.

digging dandelions for bunny

digging dandelions for bunny food

Spreading soil and compost

Spreading soil and compost

In fact, it’s looking pretty darn good now. I filled one section with tomatoes already. Step by step, I’ll have a garden again.

And I’ll thank my family the best way I know how — with jars of the garden bounty, later on.

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Going Greener

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I put No Impact Man on my wish list on Paperback Swap dot com quite a while ago. It came today, just in time for – no. Not just in time for anything, really. I’m eager to read it.

So far, I’m snickering as his dilemmas because I’ve face so many of the same. Paper or plastic? Today’s version is more likely to be “Is plastic okay?” because plastic bags cost the store so much less than paper. Dear darling Chuck gets paper bags when he shops. I bring my own. I don’t bug him about it – much.

Elevator vs. stairs: I don’t have to deal with nine floors like No Impact Man does. I deal with two flights in an old building, though, and that on top of major abdominal surgery followed by more medical issues that made walking difficult. Hence, the elevator, for a little longer.

Tissue vs. handkerchief: I still stick with tissue. It’s not the environmental choice, but it’s a more hygienic choice. Give me a little leeway there, green folks, because I still harbor the germ phobia from teaching in a classroom full of coughing and sneezing kids for many years.

And I’ve only just begun to read!

Meanwhile, I will keep on gardening for 3 minutes a day, and with the generosity of others, I might get the garden in. Soon. Maybe. Shh: don’t tell the neighborhood bunnies, but I’m planting lettuce. Soon.

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Three Minute Gardening

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Dilemma du jour: straw bale fertilizer.

I bought fertilizer with the right ratio of nitrogen to phosphate to potash. I measured (well, pretty closely) the proper amount. I soaked the bales with my soaker hose every night, every other night adding fertilizer. So why is the fertilizer still sitting on top of the bales and not washing into the middle of each bale the way I expected it would?

Possible answers:

  • Maybe I bought the wrong fertilizer and inadvertently got the time-release kind.
  • Maybe I should be using a hose with nozzle so the water pressure washes the fertilizer down into the deep.
  • Maybe I’m just impatient and should settle down, turn off the hose, and blog instead.

Gardeners? Internet research gurus? Others? What’s going wrong? Or is nothing going wrong?

For now, I’m going to send out a Tweet asking for help. The Twitter-verse is usually good for gardening advice. TTFN – Ta-ta-for-now!

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Rhubarb BBQ Sauce

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The rhubarb is coming up already! It’s not this deep yet, but my day will come. Good thing I used a jar of rhubarb BBQ sauce on a beef roast for tonight’s supper. Mmm. BBQ beef on fresh potato buns from local bakery — that’s delicious. Here you go, folks, an encore from last summer:

I stumbled upon a suggestion one day – rhubarb BBQ sauce. I looked over the ingredients and said to myself, “Self, we have all of these ingredients in the house, including plenty of rhubarb.” Chuck was skeptical at first, but I made some anyway. He tasted it before I went to the trouble of canning, and he pronounced it good.

This recipe uses a lot of rhubarb. I took a look outside to see how much rhubarb we might have, and if I might have enough to make another batch.

Will there be enough?

Will there be enough?

I needed at least 8 cups of diced rhubarb. Did I get it? Here’s the after shot.

After picking

After picking

I have about 6 and a half cups of diced rhubarb now. The dilemma: do I go back outside to pick right now? Or do I set aside the current harvest, maybe freeze it, until the remainder fills out a bit more? Or – cue the ominous music – do I buy a few large stalks of rhubarb at the Farmers’ Market?

Decisions, decisions.

 

 

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Bookstores and Book Spine Poetry

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I’m spreading the word again: the word of book spine poetry. This time, it’s on the national blog from my employer. Please feel free (and feel encouraged) to share, like, pin, or simply enjoy the post. We had a good time making it.

Meanwhile, I picked up a book or two last night. Bookstores are dangerous. I have to stay focused. Walk in, walk out, and only buy what’s on my list. Do not stray from the center aisle. Don’t go near that sale table. Get what I need, then check out, and then leave.

I was doing rather well, I thought. Picked up the two books in the humor section, then headed to the children’s section and asked for the book by title and author. That led me quickly to the shelf with no danger of browsing on the way. Then I headed out to the registers, and I found this.

Read from left to right.

Read from left to right.

The cashier said she’d never set foot on the other side of the counter. She had no idea how much fun some other employee had setting this up.

Now, readers, I suppose you’re wondering. Did I make it? Did I get to the exit doors without buying something on impulse?

Almost.

I bought bookmarks.

 

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Signs that the O.K. Chorale has been — well —

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I think I’ll address this in the form of a top ten list. Here you go, readers:

The Top Ten Ways Daisy can Tell She Hasn’t Blogged Recently. 

10. Several friends have changed their Facebook profile pictures and I didn’t notice.

9. Plurk updates have gone down in quantity.

8. The laptop didn’t need charging.

7. I’ve known the final Jeopardy answer twice and haven’t bragged about it here.

6. I’ve had more posts on my employer’s national blog than on my own.

5. The latest ER visit had me saying “I hope the doctor on duty isn’t the crabby one.”

4. I’ve spent more time with my new blood pressure monitor than with my laptop.

3. Amigo asked if I’d blogged the latest captioning errors on MeTV’s series “Emergency.”

2. My coworker’s parents, regular readers, asked her to check on me.

1. I started getting emails saying “You haven’t blogged. Are you okay?”

In conclusion, my friends and family, it’s been rough around the O.K. Chorale. I was started to feel stronger and walk a little less lopsidedly (that is SO a word), and my back started giving me spasms so agonizing that we went to the E.R. (see #5). I’m healing, but I’m low on energy. I’m back at work full time, but not doing much else (see #6). I come home, throw my herbal heating pack in the microwave, and sit down to watch Emergency with Amigo (see #3). Supper has been a throw-it-in-the oven affair. Thank goodness for the nearby meat market that sells ready to eat lasagna, among other things!

I’m not kidding when I say I’ve rearranged the desk in my “office” to make room for a new tech toy (see #4). Petunia checked the reviews and made a few calls and found us a portable electronic blood pressure monitor. So far, the results are good – BP results, that is.

For now, I’m going to adjourn and watch Final Jeopardy. The category tonight is The Academy Awards. I don’t stand a chance.

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