Winter, again?

Photo: Last night's sunset down at the Alaska Ferry Terminal. (This isn't the Alaskan Ferry--it's a regular ferry that's being repaired)

This is supposed to be a week of warm weather—upper 70s and perhaps reaching the 80s. That is warm for the PNW. Seasonal temperatures. But the wind came up at sundown and during the night, after the shorts-and-sweater-day, the wind howled. I had had my bedroom window open, because my condo gets so hot. It's on the corner facing south. And there is no air conditioning, not that I would use air if I had it. I rarely use air in my car. I do, however, breath air. Lots of air. Except for when I'm afraid. And that actually applies to me right now, but that isn't what I'm getting at. Not my fear, but the weather. This is a gardening column, after all.

It's cold, is what I'm getting at. I had to shut the window in the night. My cat curled right next to my side; he never does that. I put on a sweater and pulled the second pillow against the non-cat side. This a.m. I'm seeing clouds, not dark dreary winter clouds, but gray clouds that came on the wind. Arctic wind. All the windows are closed.

So now I'm here with a hot cup of coffee, thinking about gardening and life. I had to move out of my house when my husband quit speaking to me. I decided today, that if I'd stayed in my house, I wouldn't have had such strong feelings of losing an entire life. Our belongings are part of what tells us we have history. We can look at things and say, I bought that back when gas was cheap. Or, like yesterday, I washed my down sleeping bag (could have used it last night) that I bought in 1970 after I got married for the first time. Jack and I bought all the latest and expensive hiking equipment. It was our plan to live off the land, to forage for berries and roots and to fish. We lost a lot of weight and ended up eating big meals on the weekends when we worked at the resort at Priest Lake. The survival manual I was reading at the time said a person would starve to death on just fish. One must eat fat. Well, we hardly even caught any fish. It was an exercise that had people talking—and laughing behind our backs. But we were into living off the land and were for years, growing our own food, raising chickens for eggs, goats for milk (see Storey's Guide to Raising Dairy Goats: Breeds, Care, Dairying. I'd actually like to do that again. A little plot of land to keep me would be lovely.

So my garden is growing slowly. I watered yesterday, didn't stick around because I had multiple things to do, and the garden is puny. It's depressing. Like I said, it needs manure. The beans are up, looking a little spindly and yellow. One had his first set of leaves bit off. Deer? Bird? Actually I'm not optimistic about this garden. It's the soil, or maybe ley lines. Do you know about the electromagnetic lines that wrap the earth? If they cross where you sleep, you can get sick. Just move your bed. A good diviner can help you with this. I'm a good diviner. Call me, okay?

So ley lines are natural courses of energy that crisscross the earth. Where they intersect is powerful, and useful in some natural way that I'm not familiar with. All I know is things don't work as well where they cross, too much energy I suppose. Animals seem to be drawn to this extra energy. A cat will curl up in it. It's possible that my garden is situated in a crossing of these lines. If that is true, I think it will need more than fertilizer to remedy the problem. First I'll try some chicken …..

This wooey moment has been brought to you by: Flower Power.
Ciao!