Monday, June 30, 2008

Le Jardin


Happy in my skin—an old post title. This one, not so happy in my skin—and why would that be? I have everything I need. I am abundant and lucky, yet unhappy. Is it all in my head, this loneliness?

Le Jardin—garden of Eden. I was raised Christian, learning of the verdant garden where Adam and Eve first tasted that fruit of knowledge. Is it only our thinking minds that make us miserable? Now that I have decree, I feel more heartbroken than ever. I have grief and my many things: money, a home, but no person to share them with. What is the point? To me, this isn't a lush garden.

Yesterday I went to the garden to water. (We've had several hot days—the gelato store was hopping yesterday, let me tell you.) I hoed and watered and wished for my old life back, a life where I could be sitting on the beach, pondering the meaning of everything. Instead I was nursing a headache, watering in the baking sun, and trying to realize the meaning of being divorced, to not have someone to bicker with about the lack of understanding or the lack of love I'm receiving. Where does this garden of Eden begin? Inside I suppose.

Last night I watched a move, The Contest Winner. In this moving the husband, a raving alcoholic, kept running his family of ten children into the ground by drinking up the resources to purchase food and pay for a roof over their head. The wife kept winning jingle contests: prize money, & stuff. Up until the end the mother/wife kept smiling, for the most part anyway, smiling and loving everyone—including her drunken husband. Perhaps all happiness is is smiling despite of adversity.

Yesterday I set up my garden room. Today I'll fill the pot with soil and plant carrot seed. I'll let you know how well growing carrots in a pot works. Well, I think.

Happy gardening,
Flower

Sunday, June 29, 2008

Happy In My Skin


Today I'm embarrassed to say that I have a little headache from drinking a little too much R&R Whiskey last night. I went to a birthday party right after the meeting with the divorce mediator and spontaneously celebrated the final terms of the divorce. Hallelujah and if there are other feelings, they haven't arisen yet. Well, except for the feeling of an achy head. I'm sure the garden doesn't ever hurt. Nor does it wallow in its woes.

Well, what about that? Soil in pain? Even when it is cracked and parched, it doesn't feel pain—or does it? I may be on to something here. Soil as a living thing—which it is—feeling pain? What could we do about that? Couldn't walk on it, could we? Or what about backhoes and other land movers? What about flooded areas or broken areas hit by earthquakes. I believe the pain we feel in regard to disturbances is ours, not the earth's. Although there are some who'd argue this theory. But I think it is worthy of questioning the treatment of the earth. Loving it instead of disregarding it, etc. Huh, well anyway…

Today I was thinking about planting up that big pot that got delivered yesterday. I'm going to try the carrot netting method—lots of carrots growing in a big pot with a growing cloth covering them. The growing cloth is white and airy and lets the sun and water through. It lifts easily with the growing carrot tops and it keeps the little flies out that bore into the orange flesh. Try it if you live in an area, like the Pacific NW, that challenges the carrot lover.

Moi resting now, Ciao!

Saturday, June 28, 2008

The Parterre, Lotusland

Just for fun!

Garden ornamentation at Lotusland, take a look to spur your creativity.

See www.lotusland.org/gardens/parterre.htm for more shots of these amazing gardens.

Freeze-proof Pottery & Garden Art


I was a potter for ten years and one thing I quickly learned is that pottery soaks up water and when the temperatures drop below freezing--and as we all know water turns to ice and expands--the pot cracks and falls apart. Well, I have two beautiful pots from Aw Pottery in Lynwood. They were both gifts from my friend at Rainy Side Gardeners www.rainyside.com/ One is big enough to set a glass round upon and use for a end table, the other is petite—about as large as a gallon jar. Handy as a small pot as my Irish friend used to say. And both of these pots will go in my garden room.

Before, at my former home, the large one was setting on the cement slab outside my studio. I had Dusty Miller and something else growing in it. The something else died—gone from the pot and from my mind. The small blue pot is planted with maiden-hair fern and baby tears. This pottery supply is wholesale, so go with a friend who has a business if you don't have one, or look on-line at http://www.awpottery.com/ to window shop.

I was thinking about how pottery soaks up moisture and when that moisture freezes, the pot cracks apart. I once put a Coke in the freezer, thinking I could take it to school the next day for Play Day, the last day of school before summer vacation, and my pop would be cold at lunch. That was when I learned how ice expands and breaks things open. I'm not sure how they keep these pots from freezing and cracking, but I'm imagining they have a lot of grog in the clay. Grog is small bits of fired clay, like sand in a way, only larger. If you throw with a very groggy clay, it wears on your hands--shreds your palms in fact. The groggy clay is easier to throw if you're a beginner potter. And it may be the trick to no freezing and cracking open.

Sturdiness in the garden isn't something that always happens. Plants blow over and get stepped on. Yesterday the grandbaby stepped on my new Green Zebra Tomato, today he's going to the zoo. I hope there is no hidden meaning in this animal coincidence. The plant survived, which is good. It bent over to the ground and I stood it back up, patting extra dirt around it. I imagined it would have broken off there at the soil line, but no, it's fine.

So today, the soon-ex will be delivering my big pot for the garden. Also a little table that I made from peeled maple bark and wood slabs I found on the beach. It is what I consider garden ornamentation. Another thing you can purchase at Aw Pottery. Garden ornamentation. I also have a purple glass ball. So next, I'll put together a grouping of these objects, and see what it all looks like. Maybe just a mess—or maybe cool. I'll need some bricks for a little floor area for the chair and then I'm all set.

Okay, I need to get some breakfast and get showered. Today we meet with the attorney. Wish me luck.

Ciao! Flower


PS: Later, the attorney went fine. Everything is negotiated. Next papers will be drawn up and signed. Three months out and I'll be free at last.

Friday, June 27, 2008

Shade Coffee in Fairhaven


The Pacific NW is known for its coffee consumption. Everyone is carrying around one of those insulated cups that they refill at their favorite coffee shop, which are around every corner. Some have espresso machines at home. Some have cards at coffee shop that get punched or stamped and then free coffee is lavished on them. Part of the coffee explosion here is the gray. It's gray day after day and hard to get jazzed up, so what do you do, drink coffee. Caffeine my drug of choice, one friend said. On the radio once, a Seattle show sang a jingle about coffee being a "good clean pick-me-up in a Christian society".

I drink a couple of cups of coffee a day myself. I usually make my own, but on occasion go out to the coffee shop and write and drink Americanos. When I was in Italy I was laughed at. "Ah, American coffee," they'd say and wink at me. Well, it's good. Not so thick as espresso and doesn't hurt my stomach. Now I drink Shade Grown coffee from small countries. It's the Fair Trade thing where farmers actually get a decent payment for the coffee they grown on good land, not deforested land. I think its swell.

Trader Joe's sells a mix of coffees. They come in cute cans with fancy labels. The one I'm drinking now is from Bolivia. It comes in an orange can and has a donkey on it. I don't grow coffee but once I looked at a coffee plantation with my soon-ex that was situated on the big island right next to David Crosby's place. It was quit steep. We'd never have made good coffee farmers. We argue all the time. We are a nightmare couple. Why pine for something so bad? I pine for good soil. I pine for a thin waist. I pine for long swinging hair. We always pine for what we don't have. We're human. That's all.

Today the grandbaby comes and we'll go to the garden. We'll water and now Mike is planning on planting some beets and other things he's purchasing at Joe's. I'm still stuck on everything having to be raised from seed. I better get with the program. Best in Plants, Flower

Thursday, June 26, 2008

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!

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Fallow


They say it's good to let the soil go fallow. To let it rest. Everyone needs a time of rest, so why not let the soil rest? During a time of change, rest is particularly important. Americans are more driven than folks in other parts of the world--we don't get the afternoon rest, like they do. It would be interesting to find out how those folks in say, Italy, view their gardens; is the garden like a person and the Italian farmer says: it's time to rest, dear. You've worked hard enough. Perhaps here in the US, the farmers says, work harder, damn you, I'll get more out of you by adding this chemical fertilizer. More, you hear.
My plot has lain fallow for some time. And now I wonder if it will really produce a good crop. It's slow and even with peat, somewhat clumpy. I guess not rushing it will be the way to go. I'm in no hurry, although I'd like a lot of kale and chard by fall, so I can have greens over the winter. Here in Bellingham, gas is now 4.25 and it's reflected at the grocery store now. All that hauling food here and there is costing a lot of money. If my garden produces well, then I can supplement my food budget. I guess I had this same thought back in the late 70s in Yakima. Grow food and put it by. I have a great book that I used to rely on called "Putting It Buy." It taught me how to make pickles and to can peaches and cherries and pears. It taught me drying methods for fruit--of course, Yakima was overwhelmed by fruit and frequently I could pick up a box of slightly bruised, odd-sized peaches for $3.00. Makes my mouth water to think about it.

Well, perhaps my next effort in the garden is to get some good composted manure and layer it between the plants. I've done this before in other gardens and it does improve the soil. Once I added bags of pigeon manure and the corn grew 8ft tall. The neighbor came over and when he saw it said, "Man, that blows my mind."
To mind-blowing crops!
Flower

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Cayenne, Dear?





Cayenne pepper spray for the leaves of your plants. It burns the deer's little tongues. And they've already been in the garden nibbling away. What does this say about life? You know I want to squeeze every bit of knowlege I can from the garden.

Well, stuff happens, that's the way it is. Letting go is the best way to handle things. I've already started my day out with holding on to old behavior and making a tush of myself. I freak out easily, yes me, the girl in pearls. Not pearl earrings. I could use a pair; anyone?

Anyway, deer prints. Just walking on through the garden. And then the grandbaby, he took the shortest distance between two points, walked right through the tiny spinach sprouts. Letting go. It's the answer to happiness--because nothing really matters. Oh, but it does. It matters a lot. No, dear, it doesn't. Love the life you're in.

Okay, here's a picture of the deer print. I don't know how to circle it or enhance it, but it's toward the middle of the shot. Sorry, I can't tell you more. Wait, I can. Fencing. It can work. Can't it? Sugar is sweet, but pepper is better. Burns the tongue, but not harmful to the plant. However, it does wash off in the rain.

Ciao!

Monday, June 23, 2008

Samuel Finley Breeze Morse's great-grandchild x 6 or 7




The Morse Genetics

This little fella is the great x 6th grandchild of Samuel F. B. Morse of the Morse Code. His grandfather, who passed in 99, was John Morse Nelson. This little fella has the genetics of greatness, brillance, genius. I just now read that Samuel was an artist, not a scientist. His invention of the telegraph came out of a desire to communicate over a long distance.

Well, any grandmother would say her grandchild is brillant, right? Sure. And he so loves to figure things out and do it himself. Now he is contemplating how he will go about using that trowel, while his grandfather, rest his soul, might be contemplating greater things. He was a wiz at small engines and the happenings of the universe at large. If he were alive now he might be interested in wind power or the new planets discovered out beyond the down-graded planet, Pluto. He might discover the true art of relationship. How one listens, doesn't accuse, loves without worry of love returned. Just love for love's sake.

This morning I'm waiting for my duaghter and grandson, and we will walk to Blvd. Park and back, get our exercise on this sunny morning. All is well in the PNW. All is well for the Morse decendants. All is well with me.
Ciao!

Sunday, June 22, 2008

Garden Decor

I fetched from my old home a sundial, a purple glass garden globe, a rusty grate I found on the beach, and a potted fern (a gift from my gardening friend.) These items are in my garden room, (my community plot) the room without a water view--I'm not bitter.
I told you about garden rooms before; you can make them out of patios, in conjunction with outbuildings, in groves of greesn, in different parts of the yard, and around porches. I now will attempt to make my plot into a garden room--have no idea how I'll do that yet, but I carted a couple of things over there today--so soon, I'll upload a picture of what I'm attempting to create. I imagine myself sitting there in my garden, watching the foot long beans grow.

Now this is an amazing thing, the zucchini plants are acutally growing, as are the beans. I saw the sweet little spinach double leafs have popped through the soil--huh, maybe that was the kale. In any event, things are up and growing. Guess the garden just needed some heat.

At the old house (not really old, just nearly no longer mine) raspberries are taking over the garden plot. And fruit trees that the arborist suggested we pull out and plant tiny trees instead, are huge. Don't be fooled by semi-dwarf--what you want for a small space is dwarf. Whether or not those big trees will be replaced with smaller trees is no longer my choice. Oh well. What's the saying, ke sura sura.

Did I say the ivy is overgrown again. Another item to not encourage, that and butterfly bush.
What I learned this weekend: let go. Life is short. It will change whether you're willing to change with it, so might as well get on the band wagon; create what you want. If you stay stuck in what is not working, it will continue to not work. Create something new. Gardens know all about this. Create something, anything, even if it is a weed.

Oh, those are more pictures of old growth forests. They are creating new by growing ferns along their mossy surfaces--and other plants. They are giants, so awesome I'm still breathing in their essense.
More later. Flower!






Saturday, June 21, 2008

Summertime + Player Pianos + Deer




We bought a player piano in the mid 60s that actually worked. We had these long sheets of paper with the notes cut out in tiny slices--we fed the sheets through the piano and it played a tune like a music box plays, tinkling the tones in methodical vigorous manner. We'd had another player piano when I was a kid--Dad had it moved to the basement of the Audubon house, but the only way the moving men could get it down there was to take it apart. So there it sat in the rec room, in pieces, for the entire time we lived in that house. My brother and I would bang on the strings, pretending we were making spooky haunted house sounds.
I have a piano now, but it is in my ex's house and I have no place to move it, since I live in 525 sq ft. I've thought of finding someone who played and see if they want to keep my piano until I live in a larger place. But so far have found no one to do this. I thought the grandbaby would like it--he loves music and we dance and sing together--but my daughter has too much furniture already.

Which brings me to the chair I will place in my garden. Each place I find to move something seems to solve a little of this problem. The chair is currently sitting on a pile of my stuff in the car garage, waiting it's debut in the Wilson and 10th Street garden plot. I actually have some beans up and the zucchini look strong. I planted another tomato, the one I told you about. Green Zebra Stripped. And the grandbaby helped me water. A deer had walked through the garden, and if she ate something, I'm not privy to what. It was a sultry day and a good first day of summer and the celebration was fine.

Now I must get on the road and catch a ferry. Working on cleaning out the old place, extricating myself entirely is a emotional job; however, I'm ready for it after this last full moon and all the weird and wonderful things that happened.

Ciao!

Friday, June 20, 2008

Summer Equinox

I like to have ceremonies. I like to mark days when things change, when I get some new concept that helps me feel better as a person, as a being on this earth. Right now we are at the Summer Equinox. Interesting how it works with the light, being the longest day of the year--turning to head toward the shortest.

When I started this blog, I thought I would ponder what the garden has to teach me. I'm not sure about that right now. It's just sort of sitting there. Still, everyday I'm learning something, thinking about the garden whether I'm working in it or not. And it's not right outside my door, it's several blocks away. Yet it is always in my mind and right now it makes me think of feeding the population, and how as farms go under, as oil soars sky high, we will continue to feed ourselves. Sometimes I become frightened, and yet I see the changes in the world right now as an opportunity. We are all so abundant--even when we have little.

My divorce makes me feel keenly the loss of a 20 year marriage. I feel keenly the broken heartedness of losing everything I worked so hard to build. I suppose it is no different in a way to losing a job, or losing optimum health, or losing a friend. I've lost a brother, mother, father, 1st husband, a pregnancy, and now a second husband. With him, I've lost a mother-in-law, friends, memories, a home, a pet. And I feel sad about all of it. Yet, I will continue to grow.

This morning I drew a tarot card from "The Medicine Woman Inner Guidebook." The card said to "let go." The card said, "Do not be content to rest on the past, but celebrate all that was and is to come....the more you can appreciate your achievements and quickly free your spirit once again to go on, the less the world will have to challenge your position."

Now I'm thinking, despite the hurt, that action has always been my modus operandi--let go and go on. That's what must happen to heal after any loss. And it happens all the time in the garden. A tree branch breaks and falls, a blight takes out the tomato plants, a hail storm ruins tender plants. And the garden keeps growing--maybe not the same plants, but other plants, hardy plants that are nourished by the old decomposing in the soil.

It is what is being asked of all of us right now Keep going, be inventive, enjoy life with all its abundance. There is so much more to come, so much new yet invented, so many wonderful minds we haven't yet discovered. All is good. Doubt will be overcome with action and the spirit is free.

I received this invocation via a friend, via email, for the Summer Equinox:

"The children of humanity are one,
and I am one with them.
I seek to love, not hate;
I seek to serve and not
exact due service;
I seek to heal, not hurt.

“Let the soul control the outer form,
And life and all events.
And bring to light the love.
Which underlies the
happenings of the time.“

Let vision come and insight.
Let the future stand revealed.
Let inner union demonstrate
and outer cleavages be gone.

“Let love prevail.
Let all people love.”

“Compassion to All Beings
North - South - East - West - Above - Below
Compassion to All Beings.”

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Ruby-throated Hummingbird

Don't you just love them when the do that loopy thing, chattering at the top of each arc of their matting dance? And boy are they showing off for their gals. They're pretty feisty little things. I've seen them fight off other hummers. I have had them come right up to me and drink from the hose I'm watering from--too cool.

Last spring, when I still had a husband showing off for me, we had a hummer feeder hanging outside our kitchen window. We also had several bird feeders that the raccoons would get into at night and make quite a racket. And during the day, the chipmunks and rats would help themselves.

We get rats around the water--I mean they are a problem here. They hang out in warm compost heaps and outbuildings and under houses. And they can get into very small spaces--like a knot hole or between boards where the don't fit together tightly. We had them come in the exhaust vent from our furnace and make a nest inside the ducting. The house started to smell bad and the husband decided to look elsewhere for fun, and I said I smelled a rat; I was right.

Rat poison in the outbuilding and lots of cleaning out nest stuff and droppings. Lots of folks don't like to poison them, but what can you do? They ate my dad's leather ice skates when he was a kid, and they ate my friends books--just last week. She'd stored them in her garage. We never had a rat problem until the cat died. Ozzie, boy I still miss the dude--he was a good hunter and a real sweetheart.

Well, tomorrow it is the first day of summer. Can you believe it? Summer. And colder than a... Happy day anyway, and don't forget to get those seeds in the ground. They'll sprout eventually.

Ciao!

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Spreading the Peat, My New Best Friend

My mother was sitting in a garden chair in the shade of a willow tree, drinking ice tea, or lemonade, or a cold beer (I remember lots of details, but not always the tiniest ones,) and it was a hot day and I was digging holes to plant a few shrubs around the base of the willow tree. I'd read that sometimes plant roots hook into other plant roots and they have this symbiotic relationship that forms which makes them both grow better. So there I was, like I was saying, digging away in the heat of the Yakima day, while my Virginia raised mother, always makes me think of mint juleps and y'all for some reason, said to me, "My God, you work like a man."
I think I'd stopped what I was doing and leaned on my shovel, wiped the sweat from my brow and spit, then I took out a fag and lit it--cursing her southern upbringing. No, wait a minute, that didn't happen. I've reverted to my inner fiction writer--so easily I subcomb. What really happened is my feelings were hurt. I probably called in the testosterone and let him finish the job. I most likely went in and showered and cooked dinner and nursed the baby.

Those are my pink pants and my orange shirt. I think I'm wearing pearls.

Green Zebra Tomatoes


Green Zebra Tomatoes
Originally uploaded by A.R.C.


Green zebra tomatoes from the farmer's market--well actually, I bought a plant today--this is a flickr photo. I wanted a third tomato plant and a lovely woman who was selling plants at our Wednesday farmer's marked on the green, had Brandywine, green Zebra tomatoes and one other that I'm not recalling right now. I've grown the Brandywine before, and they are so fat and juicy and heavy that they tend to blight before they ripen. But they are delicious and I've gotten a few that have ripened to salad succulence, but these littler guys seemed like the type of tomatoes that would ripen before the rains start again in the fall. So I thought I'd try something different.

It's warm enough now to put everything in. That's the secret to growing seeds--soil has to be warm enough to sprout them, not rot them. There have been no snow warnings lately and I'm actually getting a little tanned on the few sunny days we've had. There was a breeze off the water today, so it was a little chilly over at the green, but mostly, it was paradise. It's lovely here in the PNW. Don't let anyone tell you differently.

Today I also got a little bookwork accomplished--still moving towards the divorce from my husband of 22 years. Is that unbelievable. Let me tell you, I've done everything to make it work--he's just not that in to me. Have you read the book?

Anoher thing I did today was eat a little Italian food at Mambo's on 12th street. They have a delicious wine called Colossi Rosso. I highly recommend it. It'd be delish with sliced tomatoes, mozzarella, basil and balsamic. I love this combo, although I'm dairy intolerant. I'd eat it with goat cheese. Trader Joe's has a nice soft goat cheese for only 3.50. or was it 4.99. Either way, it was a steal.
Ciao!

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Gray Sky, Blue Sky


Today, cloudy and warm. You can get burnt on a day like this--the sun's out behind those clouds. I checked my garden yesterday to see if it had enough moisture in the soil--all I see there is a bunch of turned over dirt and some tiny seed starts. And of course, my now hearty tomato plants. They are very green. They look good--being so green, and all. I'm going soon today and water them. I had planned to take the grandbaby yesterday, but instead, we did a couple of walks, went to lunch with a friend for his 86th birthday, and took naps. We also ate brownies and played with the cat. It was a good day. Lots of growing on the inside yesterday.

This artichoke is growing in a fellow gardener's plot. I've grown them in other gardens that I've had, but they never get very large. I suppose there are secrets to growing the big globe artichokes that you buy in the store, and some folks are privy to that secret. Maybe it is the right type of fertilizer used, although they look like cactus or thistle plants to me--which means they don't need much to grow. They seem to like hot and dry, and yet, here they are growing in the PNW--rainy feet. They take up a lot of space, so I won't be having them in my garden. Do you eat them with vinegar and mayo, is the real question. Or are you a melted butter fan. The first time I had an artichoke was with my highschool sweetheart who later became my first husband. His family ate artichokes--mine was a meat and potatoes gig. We dipped the leaves in sauce he'd made of mayonnaise stirred with a touch of vinegar. I loved them right off--and then there was the ritual of scraping away the thistles at the heart--use a spoon. And then--man oh man, dig in.

Now I like the artichoke hearts that come pickled-very delicious. Try them with your salads during the summer. Refreshing and good for you. Well, now I'm off to water; not much new in my life today--except for that I may decide to marry myself. Why wait around for someone else to make me feel special. I was with a friend this morning who is getting married. We stopped in at the jewelry store, and that's when I made my decision. I will get myself a ring--not yet, because I have some completing to do still with the ex, but soon. Maybe by the fall--I could have a fall wedding. Maybe in the garden. What do you think?

Ciao!

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Water Pump


Water Pump
Originally uploaded by Ginther
This is one of those pumps that shuts off the water below ground, in fact, this looks just like the one I had when I lived on the mini-farm in Yakima. I lived on one acre in the middle of many acres. It was fabulous, looking out at pastures and cattle and the mountains beyond. In Yakima, the hills are nude. It was a weird thing, the first time I saw them, I about fell over. After all, I'd grown up around pines and firs and maples, etc. So when my first husband and I arrived in Yakima for his new job, with our new baby, I couldn't stop crying. Who knew there'd be no trees and we'd left our home and families behind to take this job in a desert. But it was the best paying situation he'd ever had, working at a city golf course--so it was the right thing to do--to move to an orchard town. But we were alone, with all the closed groups, orchard families. And bare hills. And heat and wind and icy cold winters. But it was beautiful and oh, did I ever have a garden. Great tomatoes though and lots of squash, cucumbers, lettuce, cabbage, and Jerusalem artichokes. It was a good life for awhile. Then there was the oil embargo and gas prices went up to $1.00 per gallon--interest rates to 12%. He lost his job and we sold the house on a contract and moved back home where we found another mini farm with cherry, pear, apple, and plum trees, and grapes, lots of concord grapes.

Concrete Retreat





Yesterday I came to Concrete, south of Mt. Baker, for an overnight writing retreat along with my friend, Brenda Miller, of Bellingham Review, http://myweb.facstaff.wwu.edu/millerb/ Her friends are on vacation and were lovely enough to loan us their home for a writing retreat. Yesterday here was sunny here. I don't know if it was sunny in B'ham, but here, upriver in the Skagit valley, the weather was glorious. And this house is situated on a hill overlooking a meadow and then trees and mountains beyond. Bits of snow remain at the tips of the mountains, tiny patches so white against the black rock caps.

They have a garden here; several tiers soil secured with rows of boulders running the length of the hill between the house and the field--where another patch of garden: blueberries, raspberries, asparagus, rosemary, lavender and other plants grow next to a field of grass and clover. Sever fruit trees: peach, apple, and Asian pear, grow to the left, downhill from the house.

I thought that nothing much would grow in a garden so close to the mountains, but my friend says the owners put up tomatoes and jars of fruit and vegetables. I saw the little green apple starts and recalled how well peaches do in this climate--although I've never had success. Amazing--peaches so close to Sauk Mountain and the back side of Mt. Baker.

When I as in my twenties eons ago, my first husband and I would drive from Spokane, through Concrete on our way to Mt. Baker hot springs. We'd camp by the river and eat out side our tent on chilly days and sit in the hot springs with lots of hippies to warm up mornings, afternoons, and evenings. It was fun and also felt risky, so free, so subversive. Now the springs are closed, too much bacteria. But the memories remain.

Yesterday we took a hike through an old growth forest. The camping areas have been closed off so as to protect the forest, and it was obvious how the camp areas were less lush than the woods surround the trails. My mouth fell open, all the Old Man of the Woods moss, some call it Old Man's Beard. I took picture after picture along our hike through Rockport State Park. Trillium covered forest floor--wow, if I'd only seen it when it was blooming.

We returned after our walk to have a delicioius dinner: salmon and salad with artichoke hearts and fresh asparagus from the garden. At six, it was sunny in the field still, so we ate on the porch. It was a little cool, but wonderful to be outside. It's about time we had a warm day. I soaked up the sun, napping on the porch, writing on the porch, just sitting there and staring at the field with its mown paths edging the fenceline. Lovely.

Until last night, when I couldn't sleep; I thought it was the moon being close to full: Wednesday. I got up and came out to the living room. It was so bright, I could have sat here and read without a lamp, the moon shining across the valley like a fiend. Again, I was so taken by the beauty of the mountains, trees, and fields. I love living in Bellingham, but living in a town is noisy: trains, cars, people--getting to the country and hearing the wind in the trees, the Skagit River flowing past, and birds singing (starlings, robins, humming birds, eagles), feeds the soul.
For more about Concrete, see:http:://concrete-wa.com/community.php
Ciao!

Friday, June 13, 2008

Slugs


Well, I never have seen slugs like I've seen here in the PNW. When I lived in Spokane, I stepped on one once, I think it was the only one I'd ever seen. Here, they are everywhere, leaving their shiny trails up your walls beside your front door, even coming in on the cat's fur and tooling around your living room. In the garden there are supposed to be plants that help keep them away. Well, I think they just eat those plants. The lovely marigold devoured by banana slugs. And how about the lovely lettuce plant, and the cabbage plant; should I go on? Here's what I have to say about slugs: get some of that iron stuff that you sprinkle around the plants. It works and it's not going to kill any animals. Why mess with beer or going out at dawn and pulling them from beneath boards. Just use the iron. If anyone has a good reason why not to use the iron, let me know--and I'll pass it along.

Cedar for Father Sky and all Father's out there.


My father and I have had a lot of rough water flooding us through the years. I still love him, however, I don't codone many of the things he's done. That said, it has been difficult at times to pick out cards that really carry the sentiment I feel, and at the same time show him I love him despite the difficulties we've had. He isn't much of a gardener, although he grows many things, mostly businesses. He never took away my gardens, although, he gave my sister a garden when we moved once, a very lovely garden. I'd been the only gardener in the family, besides my mother's petunia boxes. That was typical, giving and taking away.
The garden does that too, gives us lovely plants, such as a red, red tomato, and perhaps a blight the next day. I ponder impermanence, both because of my interest in Buddhism and because of life and living in the moment theories. All of it is worth thinking about, but doing is the best. Today, I may or may not garden. I'm still wrestling a bit with a spring cold. I think it is supposed to be warmer for a few days, so we'll see. Ciao!

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Spinach and the Space-Time Continuium


Hey, hey, hey--the sun is out. I spent a couple of hours over there today, and I feel great. I planted spinach and kale. I'm keeping with the cool weather crops because it's supposed to cool down again after today. I think this might be the summer that wasn't. People are calling it Junuary--ha, ha. We've had other summers that have remained cool and rainy all summer--but I think this one is record cool so far.

Now for the space-time continuium. We're always traveling in time, to the past, to the furture. It is rare that we stay in the moment. This is one of the things I've been practicing, staying in the moment, for some time--and the garden teaches this. I think it does because it is closeup and immediate. In writing the immediacy of the scene keeps the reader present and focused. In life, we daydream about what could be or what has been, we skip around in time a great deal. If all our experiences are piled up like a shish-kabob, then perhaps we can time travel and at the same time be present. I'm experimenting with this theroy.

Now for Findhorn--I went to the site to sign up, and things got a little confusing. I'll go back adn look again, see what I did wrong in the sign-in process. I have had two friends who've visited Findhorn, and I'm so interested in that place. So when I know more, I'll let you know. As for nature spirts, I only saw the one in the photo.

Ciao!

Today, We're Warming Up



More thoughts about nature spirits. I was in the yard at my old place in Kingston, and I felt this pressure, like some huge energy was rolling up the hill toward me. I wanted to live in this place, with the beautiful view and the little cabin that would be replaced eventually with a lovely home, but I could feel a resistance to being there. So I lit some sage and placed tobacco about and asked permission to be on that land. And the energy, whatever it was, moved away. I felt freed to continue. Now that place is lovely, full and lush, a paradise. His, not mine. Augh!

Oh dear, that is one of my heartaches right now. Leaving a place so serene to live in, a place where trains don't go through in the night and cars don't screech and honk, and kids don't smack down their skateboards on the sidewalks and parking lots. I've mostly gotten used to the noise here, but not entirely. Last night the train honked it's horn, short little blasts on and on. Now tell me why the conductor would do that? Someone on the tracks?

Anyway, not to complain too much, because there are so many things that are ideal living in a small community where all the conveniences are close at hand. Really, I don't have to leave here if I don't want to. And now in Bellingham, our gas prices are over $4.00/gallon. I'm thinking that gardening is a very good idea. And so is my bicycle.

And now to my new thing, a garden store where I'll find as much seed as possible to offer you--unique things too--orange cucumbers, purple broccoli. It just seems fun to plant carrots that are more orange than usual. And did I tell you? that around here, PNW, that if you plant your carrots in a pot with fine netting over the top, the carrot boarer will be foiled. I'm trying it. I saw it on Cisco. He's a Seattle gardener. Pretty smart guy and way chipper.

Okay, still in bed. Gardening in my dreams. I'm up and at it, promise. Ciao!

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Down With Spring (so to speak) Cold


Well, I did want to make it there today--but this freaky cold weather has got me down for the count. So here I am on my watercolor-wash flowered sampler quilt that I made with my very own hands. I do love to create and my quilts and garden sculptures and paintings, etc. are so much fun. What would I do without my creativity? You don't have to answer that.

So yesterday, also down with the cold, I spent time putting together a garden store at Amazon.com. There are some fabulous seeds that will thrill you: purple broccoli, rocket red carrots, and orange cucumbers. They don't look like they're of this earth, but they are.

Now a bit about garden spirits. When I work alone over there at the garden spot, I on occasion turn to the row of plums, thinking I've seen movement. This has happened over and over again. The other day (the one before all the rain) when the grandbaby was with me, he stood there and looking and looking at the area that I turn to. I wondered what he was seeing.
I'm so curious about garden spirits. I've read about people who are so in touch with them, and I'd love to be also. Anyone know anything about this?

When I first heard of Findhorn: http://www.findhorn.org/index.php ,I was thrilled and skeptical at the same time. How could a person communicate with things you can't see. While I'm telepathic and clairvoyant (I should know the answer to this question) I just couldn't get this communication with nature spirits, I guess because I don't know what they are.

So I started just noting when I turned to look--is there something there? Generally no. Sometimes a bird or a deer. But it's when there is nothing that I grow curious. I think I'll experiment with inviting them to my plot. I've heard that the garden grows better when the nature spirits help out. Are they fairies? Elves? Anyone have any thoughts about this?
Ciao, Flower!


Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Play Time & Tomatoes


The weather outside is blowing, in the pass it's doing some snowing, it's the time of year for gardening, let it rain, let it rain, let it rain.
He, he, he, so we stayed inside and played all day. We take lots of pictures, which he's hamming up for in this one and we watch cartoons and vacuumed, he loves to vacuum. We played with the cat, went grocery shopping, rolled a ball around the living room, and we slept. We just have a great time together--no matter what the weather is like.
And around here, folks are really complaining. but I've noticed some greens really looking luscious over at the garden plots. I so was looking forward to going there yesterday. I thought the grandbaby would like to water plants with his new yellow duck watering can, but I'm telling you, it was miserable. A friend of mine said she was afraid to go outside it was raining so hard, and another friend said the power went out. On Mt. Rainier some hikers got caught in a blizzard. They were just out for a day hike when 70 mph winds came in and lots of snow. Sheez!
Well back at the gardening tomorrow--I hope. Don't remember any other years like this that the rain stayed so late. Hopefully the tomatoes won't blight. We tend to have that problem around here. The plants stay to wet and even though it's cold, it's warm enough to grow a mold that kills the leaves and makes bigs spots on the tomatoes. A neighbor puts an umbrella over his plants, just attaches it right to the stakes. Then when it's raining a lot, he opens it up, viola, instant blight protection. I usually plant under the eaves, next to the house. Then the eaves protect the plants. It works well, and in the fall the plants last longer before blighting. You can also make little tents over them--keeps them warmer and dry. And in the Pacific NW, never water them from overhead.
Growing tomatoes in Spokane and Yakima was an entirely different thing. The heat was great and they grew like mad. Only thing I had to do in Yakima was pluck off horn worms and toss them in the chicken coop. Spokane never posed any problems, except for early frosts.
Well, enough complaining. If you can't grow them, buy them. And right now, be sure they have stems on them so you don't get sick.
Ciao!


Monday, June 9, 2008

"I hate the rain. Oops, did I say that out loud?"

Well, you're not going to believe this, but it's supposed to snow tonight in the passes. They've already sprayed everything down with deicer and the plows are lined up and ready to go. It has rained all day, very gloomy and howling wind even. It's lucky Barb and Mike did the rest of the wedding yesterday, I'm lucky I should say. But the grandbaby and I didn't leave the house today and he just carried his yellow ducky watering can around the condo. He was tired today anyway and had a good nap and I worked on my novel--and had a little nap while I did that. We both at rabbit cookies.

Speaking of rabbits, they are all over the place. And when I exclaim how cute they are, others curse the little guys for eating their gardens. What was his name, ah yes, Peter Rabbit. I love those stories and the drawings. So cute.

So not much to tell you about gardening today, except for hunker down and wait it out. I teach writing, so we wrote well tonight, but even the writers said it was frightening outside because it was raining so hard.

I love rain, huh, did I say that out loud.
Until later. N

Sunday, June 8, 2008

Friends Help


Today I ran into my friends at breakfast and asked if they'd seen the garden yet. They've just recently returned from Italy, and have mostly been dealing with jet lag for the past week, so of course the answer was no. So while my new friend and I were finishing breakfast, I saw them heading across the street down 1oth toward the garden. Once we finished breakfast, my friend and I walked over to the garden, and low and behold, they'd dug up the last 20 or so sq. ft. of weeds. What a blessing. Now tomorrow, the grandbaby and I will get something planted. He can take his new duck watering can and water in the seeds and we'll all be happy. Here's a cute picture of Harley in the garden. They'll put in some beets and beans. Maybe cukes. They had so many cukes last year that I had all I wanted without even growing any.




Now this really has nothing to do with gardening, but do see "Young at Heart" if you get a chance. It's a lovely movie and it swings you from happy to sad to happy again. It's very uplifting and life affirming.

Saturday, June 7, 2008

Can You Guess?




You're right. It's raining. Today is my day to plant spinach, kale, and foot long green beans. I'm also thinking about the garden decorations I have at my old house: purple globe, table made of drift wood, fossil from beach, sun dial. I also have two beautiful pots from Ah Pots in Seattle. In one I have a fuzzy gray plant, the name escapes me at the moment, the other has a rare fern and some greenery that looks like pearls. I have other garden things, but only have a small plot, 10x20, so they won't fit, but a chair and pots and sundial, etc, I think it'll start looking like a room.

I've always liked the idea of garden rooms. I think the garden can be an extension of the house, especially if you lay out the bauguan, the fung shui floor plan, which extends your house beyond its' bounds. In my condo, my bauguan goes out the door and down the stairs. I have a bit of sea glass on the window sill, which disappears regularly, and then I replace it. I have lots of sea glass.

So today, what does the garden teach, as it grows in the rain, the tomato plants getting greener and sturdier, the beans sprouting beneath the soil, cosmos coming up from last year, the seed having blown in from the neighbors garden. I would say, the garden teaches me continual change. It is changing despite what is happening around it, dirt falling with the curl of a worm
beneath the soil, seeds sprout and disturbing a bit of rock and compost. It's forever changing. Everything is forever changing, that is what we can depend upon. My challenge is to learn to go with the flow. To not be too attached.

Ciao!

Friday, June 6, 2008

ROBIN'S NESTING PLACE: More Peonies

ROBIN'S NESTING PLACE: More Peonies Take a look at her peonies. They are budded out in the community garden, a row of them boardering the road. I love them, so full and sensuous. Gorgeous.

Small Mind


The mind of the garden is small, which is good. I've heard that humans would be much happier if we couldn't think. So all day, I've tried not to think. I did buy flower seeds. I went to Trader Joes with Coltin in tow and we bought the usual, fruit, coffee, rice crackers, beef, banana's and broccoli.
Then to the garden store--a new one that was very quaint. I bought Coltin a yellow duck watering can that he immediately latched onto. It's about the size of an hat. Once we got back to the condo, he put his cheerios inside the container. Monday, hopefully, I'll take him to the garden and let him water to his hearts content.


My garden is teaching me about small mind. I can't make things grow faster than they grow. I can't turn the soil over more quickly than I can. I'm limited by my strength, the weather and by the fact that I have a lot going--writing classes, my own creations, etc. So I must be patient. This is true in many ways. Patience is a virtue.

I came home with three packets of seeds: Foot long beans, garden greens, and a variety of kale. In Kingston, my old garden, I have a purple glass ball, a little table I made from beach wood, a sundial. Here I have a chair. These things I will decorate my garden with. Making it a tiny haven sounds good to me, a place where I can let go of my worries and soak in nature. I think the community garden is a good place to do that. I also need a hat.


Zippy Zucchini



I woke this morning thinking about how completely I embarrassed myself yesterday. Remember, it was a blue day for me, because my soon-to-be ex called to let me know the refinance had gone through, so it wouldn't be long before he could pay me off. So I have to get a lawyer to draw up the papers and soon his daughter will be moving out, so he's free to have romantic partners over—in the house I helped build, etc. etc.. That thought sent me over the edge. It was raining and raining, so no garden to calm me down. I heard that the dirt gives you endorphins, I'm not sure about that one. But being outside is pleasant, mostly—well not so much when it is raining. I tried working on some poems and some art and finally gave up and went to a friend's condo for a glass of wine—where I broke down. I guess being sad over all this will come and go—it's been 9 months since he said he wanted a divorce. The embarrassing part yesterday wasn't breaking down with my friend, it was after leaving there that I ran in to a young man—could be my son—and flirted like zippy zucchini, or is it saucy savory? We'll see just how much I embarrassed myself when I see him at the coffee shop I frequent next week. If he doesn't look at me, or visa-versa, then I'll know.

Anyway, I went on after we chatted on the street and had a salad at the bookstore café and flipped through some magazines that had been left on the table. That's when I got a million ideas for some new paintings—which was good. And I didn't have my journal in my purse as usual. But I did have the back of a pizza coupon. To make a long story short, I flew out of control yesterday because I'm blue. Still. It takes time, this divorce thing, and if I asked the garden what should I do? it might say, lay low, or turn over and go back to sleep, or get all warm and comfy, take a shower, or just hunker down. Which is all sage advice, don't you think?
I did see Mike yesterday, he's my friend's husband who comforted me in my teary moment, and he offered to turn over the rest of the garden plot. Which is good, because my arm is hurting from shoveling and also confirms the title, community garden.

Now for the garden report: Zippy Zucchini is having at it, I'll include a picture--twins. Testy tomatoes are sticking together. You know how close friends can be. Probably read minds. And Broccoli Raab—very busy bolting through the chunky soil. I did add the peat.
I planted beans—haven't seen them yet and there's a row of lettuce that's not doing much. I'd like to get a winter garden in this year—yes, I know I'm jumping ahead—I tend to do that. I do practice being in the moment—but obviously I romp around on the timeline continuum. I just figure a good winter vegetable garden will help with the food budget—with gas so high now--$4.00/gallon here in Bellingham. I was walking with my daughter the other day and we ran into some of her friends, who said they were riding their bikes to work once a week, stopping and buying coffee on the way—which they decided offset their savings on gasoline. Huh! That and bottled water.

So Territorial Seed Company has a winter spinach called Giant Winter that I think I'll order. You seed it in the late summer or fall, and then you have spinach in the early spring. I like chard and kale in the winter. Although I'd probably plant them now and then again in the late summer. My last garden had a ton of kale that just reseeded itself. I loved letting the kale go to seed. Bright yellow flowers in gloomy February. Ah, well, that's enough. Got to get going, the grandbaby is coming today. Oh, and did I say it was raining?

Ciao!

Thursday, June 5, 2008

Gloomy Morning


Well, I really am having trouble letting go of my almost-ex-husband. So what does that have to do with gardening? I'm not sure, but there's all that mint that has trouble letting go of the soil and water, all lush in the corner of my garden plot. It's so tenacious, the roots traveling underground, new stems coming up along the runners. In the woods around here, when a cedar tree falls, it becomes a nursery log and new trees sprout in it's composting trunk, so the new trees grow in a row. So sweet. As far as a fallen marriage goes, I guess new parts of me are being forced to grow along the fallen parts. Each part of me has to break down, turn to compost and then regrow something new. The part I'm working on now is letting someone else have him. Ooh, that bothers me. But everything is impermanent. The garden teaches me that. Plants have a short life cycle. Although I do have a Hoya that is 32 years old. I've carried it from one residence to another. Funny how things work out. Something that seems permanent, isn't.
So the garden rules summarized:

1. A plot cannot be left unattended for more that two weeks. (Oops!)
2. No weeds pulled and left in the garden.
3. Conserve water.
4. Rocks go in rock pile.
5. Weeds go in compost pile.
6. No pets and keep tabs on children.
7. Weed-free and looking neat please.
8. A plot not maintained for more than 30 days will be re-assigned.
9. Fencing within plot borders only.
Etc.

Here's the grandbaby. I'm feeling better now. Ciao!

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Family event planned at Sehome Arboretum June 7 - City of Bellingham, WA

Family event planned at Sehome Arboretum June 7 - City of Bellingham, WA

Letter from the Parks Department


I received the letter today, explaining community garden rules. One of the rules I noticed as I quickly scanned the list is--do not leave pulled weeds in your garden. There is a huge compost heap next to the tool shed, which I've dug some very nice compost from, but really, pulled weeds aren't much different than other mulch, and can be used on the paths between lovely rows of beans or peas. I'm a girl who follows the rules, you can probably tell this, I mean wearing pearls to hoe the garden--sheez, what is more proper. I'll catch you up to speed when I finish the pleasant reading matherial. Until later, Ciao.

Pearls of Wisdom





Today, a break in the weather, after all day yesterday and last night and this morning, rain, rain, rain. Rain. Yes, liquid sunshine--they joke about around here. But this afternoon, after a rainy cold morning, and a beach walk to see the extreme low tide, almost -4 with lots of purple starfish and a ton of eel grass, I went to the garden. The sun came out after all. I had on a pink top and pearls with my jeans, and shrugged, thinking what the heck, Carrie Bradshaw does it. Well, not the gardening, but the pearls with just lounging around clothes, so why not. No one looked at me sideways, in fact, I got a lot of smiles coming my way. And what is life for anyway, smiles and hugs and lots of good vegetables.

So I dug up a small area today. I have sore shoulders from all the previous digging and thought the strange pain in my armpit was going to command a mammogram, but alas, I figured it out. Shoveling. Yes, digging up the mint patch and the false buttercup and the plantain. When I was young, in my twenties, I read every survival book I could get my hands on. Mint and plantain are good greens to eat. Those and rose hips and rose flowers and new fir sprouts would become part of the survivalists diet. There could be mushrooms and salal berries and blackberries, but I digress, my motive at the time, living off the land. And not a bad idea now. I did it on the mini-farm in the 70s. In the 80s I didn't do so well--but still kept small gardens. Always tomatoes, my first and foremost favorite plant, I have been growing every year, practically since I was in grade school.

So I have two tomato plants in my garden. I'm thinking another might be nice. I have a nice picture of anther community gardeners plot, where the tomatoes were started in the cold frame. I've grown lettuce and radishes and cukes and zucchini in the cold frame, but never tomatoes. What a great idea. It's easy to build a cold frame, just build a bottomless box and if you have an old window from the recycling store, set it on top, or a dome from a sky light. Fab. If I can do it, you can.

So back to pearls. I found two in the oyster I ate with a new friend after a lovely walk on Mother's day. I thought that was a good sign. What do you think? We also saw about 12 eagles. Or was it 10? Another good sign.






An eagle flew over the garden the other day. I pointed it out to my grandbaby who was watering his pant leg with the watering can. He looked at the sky and said bird. Good enough.
Well anyway, have at the garden, rain or shine--it'll make you feel fine.

Monday, June 2, 2008

Slow as Molasses in January


The weather, sheez. So cold yesterday, I didn't go to the garden like I'd planned. Cold and windy again this morning; however, this afternoon, warmer. I walked with my daughter before she went to work first thing. We take my grandson along the boardwalk and down around the park. The passenger train passed us by and the whistle scared him so badly, he looked like he was going to cry.
Trains go through Fairhaven all the time—it's just one of the sounds that backdrops the beautiful water, the islands, the breeze, green, green, green. And cold. Don't forget the cold.


June is frequently cold here. And if it's really a rainy spring, I usually wait and plant later, although, one could wait all summer some years. Okay, so today after a long discussion on the phone with the ex about splitting property, C and I headed to the garden. He wore his rubber boots with the frog eyes on them. He doesn't seem to like them much, but having rubber boots is a good option, especially with digging and watering and all.
So I got a pitchfork from the garden shed and haved-at the mint. He had a blue plastic trowel Mama bought him, but preferred the pitchfork. When I wouldn't trade, he threw himself on the ground, one big tantrum; again, sheez.

Once we both recovered from the tantrum, I found a tiny rake in the garden shed, and he seemed happy to have a real tool. So he raked where I'd spread the peat and I dug up mint. I got all of all the mint dug out, but did not finish turning over the entire garden. I was going to document with photos, but the battery was dead on the camera. I took a shot with the cell phone, but it didn't turn out. I did take photos the other day, so I'll include one from the nice hot sunny day we had before the cold, cold, day. Oh, and I planted lettuce. Lettuce likes it cold. It is less likely to bolt, if it's grown during the cooler months.

C did the watering, and had one more fit when the watering can ran dry. More, more, he said. So I filled it again. He watered his pant-leg as well as the beans and then pulled up all the stakes in a fit of anger when I took the watering can from him to return it to its rightful place. So I picked him up, all writhing and shouting and fastened him into his stroller. He drank some water and then he was fine.

Oh, and slow is for how the plants are growing right now. That's right. Slow because it's so cold.

Sunday, June 1, 2008

Day Before "Sex and the City" Movie Night


Well, yes, I did dress up and go to dinner and movie last night with two of my friends. I wore a black flared skirt, sandals, a black camisole with a crimson loosely-knit tank over it. Now-mind you, I'm a jeans and T-shirt kind of gal. Dressing up is fun, but generally I feel conspicuous. That said, I polished my toenails and fingernails and applied eyeshadow and redder-than-usual lipstick, and topped it all off with a jean jacket. I have to admit, I like fashion, although I'm "well-put-together" according to my friends, I'm not fancy. I do like jewelry, but not expensive. I'm eclectic. So we went out and had sake and sushi and then went to the movie. Lots of gals dressed up. It was fun. And I thought the movie was good, not just Cinderella stuff.

But back to the garden—I was thinking how gardening and relationships are the same. You have to amend the soil of the relationship, and if you are my age—50s, you may be going through changes in your relationships you didn't ever see coming. I for one, am learning how to be my own woman. I am an artist as well as a gardener, and I do my life like gardening—start, stop, start, stop. How to be steady, I just haven't learned yet. How to get down on my knees and focus on a small area, I'm just so global. But with practice, good things come. Or at least, stuff gets done.

So yesterday, I emptied one bag of peat on half the garden. I started turning it in around the tomatoes and potatoes and where I've planted some beans. When I got to the patch of mint, I started digging out. It was strong, stronger than me—well at least physically. I kept at it though, and pulled out about half. Interesting how it grows along the roots, shooting up new stalks. I read a Jungian theory once—a marriage should be made up of two individuals, singularly being authentically real, connecting by the roots—like two big trees with connected roots. I like this idea. My soon-to-be-ex didn't want any connection with me. He wanted and wants to be making all the decisions, his way or the highway sort of guy. Well, how can I be eccentrically me and love someone who wants me to do and be what he says? He's a lonely man.

Lonely mint. All alone, broken and dying on the compost heap.

So I worked for an hour or so, digging and spreading peat. It was hot in the sun. Other gardeners came and went. One man said, sheez, you sure have a lot of weeds. They bring up nutrients from deep underground, I said. And see the worms. This is good, I'm feeling some pride. The soil is improving and so is my life.

Today, I'll work at it again. Garden and studio, and maybe my new friend will call me. He's been traveling and was supposed to be back yesterday. Huh! What should I wear? Should I buy some strappy heels?