The Garden Begins!

The magic date for planting in my zone usually falls on Memorial Day. The forecast has been cooperative lately, so I started quite a bit already. I’m waiting a few more days with the tomatoes and peppers; they didn’t start well from seed this year. Better soil or better starter pots might be the answer – next year. For now, they get a little more time in pots on the deck before I measure the grid and insert the seedlings into the soil.

Square foot gardening gives me a lot of food in a relatively small space. So far, I’ve planted lettuces, spinach, parsley, peas, broccoli, and root crops: carrots, parsnips, radishes, turnips. It sounds like a lot – and if all of it comes up, there will be a lot of fresh vegetables around the O.K. Chorale.

The plot behind the new garage is restarting, really. I have a small parsley bed back there (bunny food!), and the raspberries are coming back nicely. In a year or two, I’ll have a significant raspberry patch again. I(hopefully!) protect the seedlings from the wild bunnies.

The onions and garlic that I planted last fall are coming up well. I finally figured out which was which, too. The garlic is almost ready to harvest. I’ll definitely do this again next fall: plant the bulbs, and then let them lie dormant during the winter and grow as soon as the ground thaws in the spring.

I just heard a grizzled old off-grid guy on television say, “When you live this isolated and off grid, there are two seasons: winter and getting ready for winter.” Here in the city neighborhoods, we do some of that preparation. I don’t need to chop wood, but I do grow and can and freeze a lot of goodies during the “Getting ready for winter” season. The big difference here is how relaxing and enjoyable the prep time can be.

Pictures, you ask? Later. I promise.

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It’s amazing. And random.

We’ve decided not to call it “leftovers” when I empty the fridge of various foodstuffs and we have it for supper. It’s “tapas.”

I’m pleasantly surprised at how an hour or two outdoors can change my mood. I’m smiling, relaxing, taking a break, and I’m smiling. Spontaneously. For no reason other than I feel happy and content.

I’ve joked (sort of) that I should take my blood pressure before and after working outside or gardening. Maybe this is the weekend for that experiment.

Gardening and outside are not always the same thing, at least in Wisconsin’s early spring season. I have started a lot of seeds indoors – tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, jalapeno peppers, zucchini, broccoli, a few herbs…something about the smell of dirt makes it a rather Zen experience, even indoors.

April is a challenging month – a survival month, much like January. April, however, has the advantage of outdoor time. Planting a garden, be it flowers or fruits or vegetables, is an investment in hope. Planting illustrates faith that the future looks good. Be quiet; I’m not in a survivalist prepper mood today. 

 

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Signs of Spring – they’re all around!

Seedlings catching some sun!

Seedlings catching some sun!

The seedlings get to go outside on a field trip! They soak up some real sun, as opposed to the grow lights, and strengthen their stems in the breeze.

I’m not sure if I like these little starter pots or not. They’re a good size for exactly one seed each, but they really dry out fast. I’ll reserve judgement until planting time comes around.

Since I took this picture, the temperatures have gone colder. The little pots might not get another field trip until Saturday or Sunday – or later.

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Signs of Spring – the series

It seems like every year I post signs of spring and then – bam! – we get more winter. This time, my signs of spring will be one post at a time.

The barrels are back!

The barrels are back!

It’s a true sign of spring: the rain barrels are set up! Last year – well, last year was difficult. I’m glad to see one of my favorite garden tools – or should I say supplier? this is my main water source – is up and running.

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The Dreaded Influenza A

Most of my family members faithfully get the flu vaccine each year. Chuck doesn’t. For some reason, he doesn’t seem to be as vulnerable to the annual flu virus. This year, flu season is different.

Flu season this year came later than usual. Here it is April – April! – not November, not January, and both Chuck and Amigo are down with diagnoses of Influenza A. Chuck ended up in the emergency room a few days ago, struggling to breathe. After a chest x-ray, a nebulizer breathing treatment, and a flu test, the official word was Influenza A. Flu. The upper respiratory virus from hell.

Amigo got his a few days later. We were a little bummed; he’d been ill with some sort of virus for about two weeks, and I thought maybe that was his flu. He gets the shot every year, and that might have mitigated the severity somewhat. No such luck; he is currently curled up on the couch with pillows and blankets and a humidifier on high. Well, the humidifier is on the floor nearby. He’s not curled up with it. Yet.

Chuck most likely came in contact with the virus Tuesday night. His symptoms started in the wee hours of Wednesday morning. Tuesday night he was out late covering Ted Cruz’ primary election event in Milwaukee. Governor Walker was there, too. Can I blame Cruz and Walker for my dear hubby getting sick? Maybe not, but I do like to blame the governor for anything and everything possible.

Meanwhile, he brought home the bug and got quite sick, too. I’ve been taking care of him the best I can, treating the symptoms and cooking up comfort foods.

Amigo’s symptoms turned up overnight Friday. His diagnosis was confirmed over the phone with the nurse on call. Once again, we’re treating the symptoms. Chuck was too late for the famous Tamiflu. Amigo couldn’t get an appointment within the magic first 24 hours, and the nurse told me many doctors are hesitating to prescribe it these days. There is some doubt as to its true effectiveness.

Meanwhile, I’m still healthy and knocking on wood and washing my hands and trying not to breathe near either of my guys. If I make it past this week…well, let’s not chance anything.

Readers, I’m feeding the sick ones (and myself) chicken soup and other sources of fluid and nutrition. Advice is welcome – for treating their symptoms and keeping myself flu-free. Add your prescriptions for comfort in the comments.

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The Spark Plug Award

He said it felt like the Oscars. He was surprised. No, he was blown away when his name was called. He had no idea he was getting an award.

Despite his shock and awe, Amigo managed to give quite a nice acceptance speech. He thanked his parents for driving him to practice. He gave credit to his high school music teacher for getting him off to a good start singing. He mentioned that he had grown up surrounded by music and he enjoyed singing barbershop style.

His award is called the Spark Plug. The Spark Plug award goes to someone whose enthusiasm and energy bring a spark to the group. Amigo brings a spark with his voice, of course (he’s good! very good!), and he brings a spark with his attitude, too. He brings his voice, his musicianship, and his sense of humor to each rehearsal and performance.

I was such a mom. I had a major lump in my throat watching my boy, my young man, getting recognized and rewarded for being who he is – outgoing, friendly, talented, fun.

Anyway, readers, after the dinner was cleared and the awards were given, there was karaoke. Karaoke, at a barbershop party? These guys love to sing! I could have listened all night. But Amigo and Chuck were ready to lug the trophy home, so I enjoyed one more song (a local restaurant owner singing Billy Joel’s “For the Longest Time”) and joined them to head home.

The Spark Plug Award has a place of honor on our fireplace mantel. It’ll stay there for a while – until next year, when Amigo gets to make a short speech and hand it off to the next harmonizer who energizes the group.

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Chicago dumps Trump

It was an ordinary Friday night, for the most part. I was visiting La Petite, and we were settling down on her couch to relax and chat and check on the rest of the family via Facebook.

It’ll be no surprise to readers that many of my relatives are rather progressive in their politics. We knew that the candidate I like to call He Who Shall Not Be Named (in lieu of giving him any more blog space) was in Chicago for a rally, and many a protest was planned. Upon further review, we found that we had a family member at a rally outside the arena where You-Know-Who was scheduled to speak. Here’s her viewpoint.

Anti Trump Rally

So proud to have been there to turn the Trump Tide. UIC students meant what they said and put feet to their thoughts. Whatever happened inside the pavilion, I don’t know, but the outside activity was 100% peaceful with appropriate Chicago police presence. This is what democracy and freedom of speech looks like. – from one who was there, 3-12-2016

The result: the speech was cancelled. You-Know-Who was advised not to appear for fear of inciting violence. He acquiesced. Meanwhile, those outside cheered at the news. Again, people, from one who was there: 100% peaceful, with appropriate Chicago police presence. Peacefully, they managed to shut the guy down.

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Shopping: It’s a learning experience.

  • Today while shopping with La Petite, I learned —
  • Lancome has a line of cosmetics with Braille labels.
  • A woman can never have too many shoes.
  • Malls are still — well, malls.
  • I’m wearing the wrong size bra (no, you don’t need any more).
  • Jeans are just as hard for La Petite to find as they are for me, several sizes larger.
  • I’m still an amazing bargain shopper. Even the cashier was impressed.
  • Peanut noodles are delicious. I wonder if I could make this dish?
  • Fortune cookies can be ridiculous. Hallelujah? Really?

I followed up a day of shopping with leftovers for supper and a marathon of Tiny House shows. It was a nice, relaxing weekend, despite losing an hour’s sleep to Daylight Saving Time.

Readers, do you enjoy retail therapy? Leave a comment.

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The Great Bunny Rescue – encore

A Facebook friend posted this warning: Live Easter bunnies are not a good idea. It reminded me of spring 2011 and the night La Petite got a phone call from a friend’s mother. The point of the call: five domestic rabbits needed help.

When La Petite’s phone rang, it was the mother of a friend. She and her youngest two children had come across five domestic bunnies that had been abandoned at a construction site near a local bike trail. They went back with lettuce and a large box, lured the furry ones, brought them home, and called The Bunny Whisperer, a.k.a. La Petite.
We knew what to do, so Chuck and I joined her. We gathered two cages from our basement with litter, hay, and pellets for each. La Petite knew where we were going, so she drove. When we pulled into the driveway, Friend’s Mom and two kids in pajamas led us into the garage where she’d set the box.
Five full grown domestic rabbits were in the box. Two were harassing the others, so Chuck picked up those two first and looked them over closely. “Yep. Boy bunnies. Let’s separate these from the others.” We put the two males in one cage and the three females in the other, and they calmed down significantly. All five started to nibble on the hay and pellets, and they even found the corner with litter and used it appropriately.
Four looked like they may have been related or from the same litter; the other was a lop-eared character who didn’t resemble any of the others. He was either a major case of recessive genes or was unrelated. Cute, though. They were all cute, even though they were incredibly dirty and smelly from their adventure and trauma.
We left them settled for the night, and La Petite made arrangements to help Friend’s Mom take all five to the Humane Society the next day. When they delivered the bunnies, La Petite reported to me that all five looked cleaner and they were eating well and (are you sitting down?) at least two of the three females were pregnant. We were further appalled.
We’ll never know why the owners dumped the bunnies. Maybe realizing the males were mature was too much to handle. Getting them neutered could have been too expensive. Maybe the owners realized that not only were the males mature, but the females were expecting. If five bunnies are too many, five plus two litters of babies would be overwhelming.
The girls, getting a little attention
I still don’t fully understand, though. La Petite and Friend’s Mom brought the rabbits to the shelter. The previous owners could have done that instead of dumping them. Pet rabbits are not equipped to survive in the wild. They don’t know what to eat, and they’ll be eaten soon because of their lack of camouflage. With their domestic coloring, they’d be hawk bait before long. The little albino in particular would be easy prey for eagle-eyed predators – and I do mean eagles.
La Petite was pleased with the people and the set-up at the shelter. Rabbits and other small animals were kept a significant distance away from dogs and cats and in a separate room. She said they looked clean and well cared for. We wished we could have done more. When cash flow is a little easier, maybe we’ll make a donation. We’re grateful to have a Humane Society in town. We’re also grateful to know people like Friend’s Mom who thought it was important to rescue these animals when they were homeless and in danger.
The Boy Bunnies

We’re grateful we’re able to make a good home for our pet rabbits: Buttercup at our home; Krumpet, Biscuit, and Sadie at La Petite’s apartment. We love them dearly.

 

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Thinking Spring in the Snow

It’s March. Correction: It’s March in Wisconsin. That can mean anything, weather -wise. So of course, what am I doing? I’m planning my garden.

I was reading about blueberries when I stumbled upon a fact that I hadn’t known: blueberries like acidic soil. Raspberries prefer a less acidic bed. Last summer we planted raspberry canes salvaged from the area behind the garage (pre-garage replacement) back into the topsoil salvaged from the same garage project. We bought a few raspberry starter plants from the Plant Station to supplement and maybe cross pollinate the originals. As long as they were on sale, we bought a few blueberry canes, too.

Oops. If my research is correct, one berry will grow well and the other won’t. I haven’t tested the soil for pH yet (duh, it’s still frozen!), and maybe I won’t. I bought myself a soil pH meter last year as a treat – gardening for geeks! Yea! – so I will probably measure at least the pH in the main raised beds. I like to rotate “crops” anyway, and this will help me place my vegetables where they’ll grow best.

But seriously, I’ve never gone to the trouble of testing my soil. I just stir in homegrown  compost, dump the rabbit’s litter boxes (now there’s a source of acidic fertilizer), and plant away. Maybe the best plan is to watch the berry canes for a year and see what really thrives.

I’ll monitor the berry situation – eventually. For now, the snow has to melt.

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