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 food
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.
“A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song.”
1928 — 2014
RIP, Maya Angelou. You gave the world so much.
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.
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!
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?
I needed at least 8 cups of diced rhubarb. Did I get it? Here’s the after shot.
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.
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.
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.
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.
A middle school student in our virtual school had a lesson blocked by his “net nanny” filter program. Why? The net nanny determined this lesson had a Mature Theme.
The lesson: Relationships Between Parallel and Perpendicular Lines.
My students must meet certain source requirements for their research, including print and online sources. I teach a lesson about recognizing reliable sources on the Internet. They always complain a little when I say, “No Wikipedia!” In addition, I don’t want my kiddos reading a conspiracy theory site and deciding that because it’s on the web, it must be true. So when I saw this on Facebook, I borrowed it.
“Quotes found on the Internet are not always accurate.”
— Abraham Lincoln
On another note, the closed captions on MeTV continue to entertain. In today’s episode, “blood pressure” became “blog pressure.” I can identify with the first phrase, but I don’t feel pressure to blog. I do it for fun. In fact, blogging is kind of like gardening: cheaper than therapy!
It’s not that funny, really. So why am I laughing out loud and sharing it with everyone? It’s all in the timing.
‘Nuff said.
Chuck wanted to know where to put the ashes when he cleaned out the fireplace. I told him to dump them in the small compost bin. He replied “The pretty, fake terra cotta, un-green plastic one?” Hah, my dear, it’s made from recycled materials AND I got it free in exchange for posting a review. That must be worth something in the O.K. household.
Anyway, it reminded me of some fun I had with La Petite when this compost bin was new. Here you are, folks, from a few years back – the new bin.
I’m a garden geek. My son calls me a green freak. My daughter? You’ll see.
Husband tolerates and even supports my green proclivities. In fact, he brought home my first composter and later bought me a pitchfork to go with it. Lately I’ve been hinting that I need a second compost bin. “What’s wrong with this one?” he asked. “Nothing’s wrong with it; it’s full.”
That was in May. Luckily, compost compacts as it decomposes, making room for more. Now it’s August, and the bin is filled to the brim with organic matter. It needs stirring, and then I’d really like to leave it alone for a full year – a full twelve months or more. That means next spring I would not empty the bin and till it into the garden soil; I’d let it sit until the following spring instead, giving everything a better chance to decompose completely. But meanwhile, where would my kitchen scraps and yard waste go? Enter the new composter.
My new composter is smaller and cuter than my big beautiful bin. It has some nice features, too. This composter has a base and an insert to keep the solids off the bottom and let the liquids, the “compost tea,” drain off, and a spigot in front for collection. Compost tea makes a great fertilizer, I’ve been told.
When I want to empty the compost, I simply open the back. It stays open nicely, which will make it simple to shovel the rich soil enhancer into my wheelbarrow.
The holes in the sides have purpose: they allow air to circulate and speed up the process, and the holes are big enough that I can poke a broom handle or stick inside to aerate the compost itself. And last, I mentioned it’s somewhat smaller than my old one. It’s still a hefty size – big enough to fit a college senior inside. Yes, that’s La Petite, modeling the new composter for all of my lovely readers.
As soon as I decide where to place it, I’ll post more pictures! Then I’ll fill it with kitchen scraps and weeds and other organic goodies, and let the compost happen.