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See close up below…
And even closer —
Yes, they’re overtaking the sprinkler. These plants obviously have never heard the saying “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you!”
>I once worked for a principal who replaced her inbox and outbox with “to do” and “ta-da!” The title of “ta-da!” increases the feeling of accomplishment in a major way, so I adopted the phrases myself.
A standard to-do list gives readers a little insight into the blogger’s life. A to-do list with commentary could be a wee bit more interesting. So here goes: to-do, eventually to become Ta-Da!
My to-do list, as noted while waiting for my hearing exam this morning (one of the items on the list):
Audiologist appointment for basic maintenance and updated hearing tests. Results: very little change, hearing aids reprogrammed to reflect those changes, consider replacing these in 1 – 2 years.
Stop for coffee on the way home. Including positive self-care (i.e. fun) in the to-do list makes it more likely to get done. Consider the coffee from a local shop both a personal treat and an investment in our downtown. The parking meter only cost a dime, coffee and muffin under $5; how many cities can claim that kind of bargain?
Strip beds.
Wash and dry sheets. Should this be two items, since I need to go downstairs twice in order to get it done? No, three times! The third trip down the basement brings up the clean sheets for folding.
Fold and put away sheets.
Re-dress beds with fresh, clean sheets. Well, really, if I stripped them in the first place, am I not dressing them now?
Clean the rabbits’ litter boxes. Another multi step chore, this requires emptying said boxes, hosing them out, letting them air dry, and then refilling them with clean litter, all the while hoping the bunnies don’t feel the need to use them while the boxes are outside. If I’m lucky, they’ll nap through the whole process and never know the difference.
Laundromat. Start with Amigo’s sleeping bag from camp, add a few other pillows and blankets, and I have a load worthy of the Big Washers at the Laundromat. But do I have enough quarters? If not, add a trip to the credit union to the list on the to-do side.
Water plants. Yesterday’s storms passed north of us (again), so I need to water the deck plants and probably the vegetable garden, too.
Garbage. Empty wastebaskets, take garbage outside, take garbage can to the curb tonight to be picked up tomorrow.
Homework. Yes, homework. I have one assignment left (out of four) for the graduate class I’m taking. When that’s done, I’ll print everything and send it in. That will feel so good! This will be a major Ta-Dah!! on the list.
If there is more time and if I have additional energy, the bushes in the front yard are overdue for trimming, the clover is taking over the lettuce’s space (if only clover were a cash crop!), and there’s always more de-cluttering to do.
Here goes — I just reheated the coffee (see above, treat + investment), so off to the races! Charge!
>The lovely Mir: I always think of her as my source for tasteful bargains. Recently she was showing off her container garden, thriving despite the Georgia drought and watering restrictions. Reading through her post’s comments reminded me that water for a garden doesn’t have to come from a tap. The technical term is “greywater.”
I still covet a rain barrel. Family, maybe next Christmas? Buy it now, though, for the best deal. You can hide it behind Husband’s model train layout; I never mess with that. Or behind the lawnmower and snowblower; I haven’t used those since I hurt my wrist tendons on the pull-start, embarrassing but true. That’s okay; I’d rather weed the garden or stir the compost than mow the lawn.
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As long as we were traveling (on the south shore of Nova Scotia), we found a Farmers’ Market in the nearby town of Lunenberg. It’s too early in the growing season to buy fresh produce, but we found other reminders why we enjoy marketplaces like this.
Sigh of relief. Deep breath. I picked up Amigo before he could decide to go home and form a band with the guitarist, and we headed for the minivan and then off to lunch. What a morning! Note to self: when out of town, seek out Farmers’ Markets and Craft Markets. It’s worth it.
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>Husband laughs at me when I take pictures of my compost bin and its lovely product, but a few comments and emails have said, “Show us! Show us more!” I’ll lead you to a few, and then add in whatever turns up in the camera this season.
To begin with, this is the bin. Thrilling, eh? We had to knock down the fence so that the lid would stay on. Luckily, the neighbors (the landlords) didn’t care, even appreciated that we were willing to take care of it so they didn’t have to do the work or dispose of the wood themselves.
Before and after pictures! The science teacher in me loves this one. The organic process, the macro and micro-organisms doing what they do, not to mention the minimal garbage I send to the landfill, what’s not to love?!
I saw this on “sale”, and I just couldn’t buy it. It’s lovely, it would look nice on my kitchen counter, but I can’t bring myself to spend money on compost. Part of the beauty of composting is that it’s low or no cost. I’ll just keep re-using my old plastic containers and then throwing them out when they finally give up the ghost.
>Hi, I’m Daisy, and I compost in my backyard.
You could call me an urban composter, although my home city is more suburban in size and style. I have a bin in the backyard, a bucket in the kitchen, and a small pitchfork and shovel in the garage. These are my tools, and this is my story.
I gather more kitchen garbage than I ever thought possible and dump it in the bin. Layered with grass clippings, weeds, and the occasional pile of leaves, the mixture, well, rots. Slowly but surely, it decomposes and becomes again one with the soil. I stir it once in a while with a pitchfork or turn the layers with a shovel, but that’s about all. Compost, as they say, happens. And it often happens not because of my efforts, but regardless of what I do.
My bin is simple. It looks like a large black garbage can, but it has no bottom. The lid is easy for me to take off, but somehow the raccoons haven’t gotten into it. Husband bought it for me several years ago, assuring me that it is made from recycled plastics.
Regular ingredients in my compost include coffee grounds, banana peels, apple cores, potato peelings, and melon rinds. Children prefer not to eat the heel of the bread? Compost. Bag of chips down to the crumbs? Compost. Shucking corn on the cob from the farmer’s market? Compost. Some of my more unusual ingredients have included wax paper covered with cookie crumbs, the paper wrapper from a fast food sandwich, and paper towels used to wipe up a spill. We’ll add small amounts of grass clippings because large layers tend to mildew and not mix well with the rest. The contents of our pet rabbit’s litter box can go in the compost on occasion, but again, not too much or it simply won’t decompose completely. In the autumn, the fallen leaves will provide the final top layer before winter sets in and it‘s too cold for the process to work.
There is very little that can’t go in the compost. Eggshells might work in warmer climates; here, they still look like eggshells months later. Meat, dairy, and seafood are not good ingredients because they decompose slowly or because the smell will attract wildlife you might rather not host in your backyard.
I was chatting with a teaching colleague in August, discussing the fast pace of our jobs and how weeding and composting give me such pleasure. My coworker, an environmental science teacher, understood completely. She knew that sometimes, we just have to sit back and let nature’s cycles take life at their own speed.
In our climate (northeastern Wisconsin), composting only works for about half the year. Every spring we spread the previous year’s compost on the garden, and then the whole cycle starts again.
Yet, in this fast paced, oft-wasteful world, it feels good to take action on a small scale. Composting does that for me.
This post is a reprint of a guest post written last September. I’m getting ready to spread the spring compost layer, and it feels great. We had a frost warning a few nights ago, reminding me not to plant too soon, but the compost and rototilling can happen any time.
>I blow it sometimes.
I have cloth bags for shopping, but I forget them too often. We buy bottled water. Yes, we do. We even use paper napkins, not cloth. We don’t bring our own bags to the grocery store or bring back the paper bags, either.
But on the other hand…
I have a re-usable shopping bag in my purse, and it works very well when I remember to use it.
I shred, and we use the shred to fill packages instead of styro packing peanuts. I recycle the water bottles! I do! We also reuse and recycle the paper bags. I used to bring them to school for book covers when I taught older kids. The paper napkins don’t go in the garbage. As soon as it’s warm enough, I compost them. This year, that means as soon as the water goes down.
Compost! Recycle! Reuse! I’m at least a little greenish.
I teach in a school that celebrates Earth Week in a big way by reading stories, leading discussions, and teaching the students how to actually make a difference. One day this week we’ll have “No New Paper Day” where every piece of paper is a re-used piece. We hope this philosophy will spread. We don’t expect our colleagues to use only re-used paper, but to look for opportunities to cut down on the waste. A gradual transition can make a big difference on our world — and our budget.
We’ve set up a day for a minimal-waste lunch. The cafeteria staff created a menu of finger food to avoid using plastic utensils, and we’ll teach a minilesson on composting to show the kids how to throw food waste such as peelings in the compost instead of the garbage. We’ll encourage students to bring reusable containers instead of bags; many already do.
There’s more on the schedule, but I’ll leave it at that. I’m proud to be on this planning committee; we planned a week of celebrations that are also educational.
On the green scale, I may not be perfect, but I’m getting there. And honestly? I think I’m pretty darn good.
>It’s not exactly aesthetically pleasing. Muddy brown, with old half-decomposed leaves, sunbleached boards that soaked up their share of snow for months, and a snake-like dead zucchini vine.
It’s not traditionally beautiful. The trellis is falling down, and that is an old broom handle leaning against the wall. One lone (dead) raspberry bush, if you can even dignify it with the term, stands weakly in the dirt, untrimmed last fall and uneaten by the neighborhood wild bunnies over the winter.
But walk around the corner and look closely. Not green, but red: the rhubarb is poking its head through the matted blanket of last fall’s leaves. Mmm. I can taste the muffins already.
Happy Love Thursday, everyone. I hope you’ll all see the sun, and soon. >When Jordan from Mammablogga proposed “Savoring the Season” for her next group writing project, I thought, savor what?
I live in Wisconsin not only because I was born here, but because I like it. I enjoy the seasons changing: the cool winds of autumn with colorful leaves falling all around. Sipping my morning coffee on the deck outside my dining room door in the comfort of summer. Winter, with its crisp, icy beauty, and the snow blanketing the world, sending us inside for hot cocoa topped with marshmallows and whipped cream.
But now, right now, I’ve had enough of winter. The snow that remains has melted and refrozen, with as much dirt and road salt in it as actual snow. The heaps in parking lots resemble glaciers, odd-shaped and huge, with a small trickle melting from beneath leading to the nearest sewer grate. It’s not pretty.
Something resembling grass lies matted flat, in shades of tan and brown, on soaked yard. I can’t see my garden yet or reach the compost bin.
It’s coming, though. I can smell it in the air. Or maybe that’s just mud…or the molds and spores thawing to make my allergies explode inside my sinuses.
Spring is on the way. I bought seeds! I have to be an optimist! The glass is half full! Either that or that drink I just poured has frozen in the sub-freezing temperatures that persist.
That wind — it’s a warm one, isn’t it? Oh, I give in, get my gloves. Any wind, though, will help melt or sublimate the remaining solid. Apply a little science, and I’ll feel better.
Winter? She’s a queen, and the queen will take her time before abdicating the throne to that young sprout, Spring.
And when spring really turns up, and the grass really gets green, and the compost is happening again, I’ll rejoice. And I’ll savor every moment.