LIFE ON THE FARM

We've lived on a 3/4 partially wooded acre for nearly 40 years.  It's in the heart of the city up on a hill with lots of historic houses (which in our area means, like 100 years old, tops, so I'm approaching "historic" too. LOL)  The part of the property that isn't wooded is spread out on three different levels and all of it requires a lot of tending.  It used to be a family affair.  So much so that our now adult sons have each purchased homes with very small yards and very little to tend.  So I guess we pretty much worked them into a PTSD situation they did not want to repeat.  We have had landscaping crews on and off over the years to help us, but they never really lasted -- either unreliable or not up to Hub's exacting standards.  So mostly we've done the "yard work" ourselves.  We've literally crawled over every square inch of dirt on this property multiple times.  I always dreaded the multiple "yard work" weekends over the seasons, sometimes in lovely weather, often also hot, or cold, rainy, and dark -- literally dark as in finishing after the sun went down on some occasions.

Several years ago, I finally got my long desired redesign of our side yard. A flat expanse of grass along the wooded ravine was transformed ("was transformed" as if by magic?  NO!  WE transformed it with sweat and back breaking work!) into a lovely "park-like setting" (as one of our re-fi appraisers phrased it) with berms containing perennial beds, new trees, shrubbery and three raised beds for veggie growing.  We had gone from "doing yard work" to "gardening".  It sounded very classy and we joined the ranks of those in our age group who call themselves "gardeners".  We did not necessarily love the work, but we did love the look of it all tended and blooming.  Still do.  I started to refer to my yard as "the garden", and it's been a busy place this Covid-year for distanced family picnics. 

In the lower yard, we inherited two 40 foot long rows of raspberry bushes set in a 15 x 40 foot patch of dirt.  We have no idea how long they were here before we bought the property in 1982, but they were well-established and very prolific.  

They have been a point of pride, and a nuisance, the entire time we've lived here.  The weeds grow in that area as prolifically as the summer berries, so that's a HUGE job every year, digging out weeds and crabgrass on hands and knees and muddy, wet bottoms.  Then the berry canes need to be contained with props and wire to keep them from falling all over the place.  Once producing, for about 3-4 weeks in late June and well into July, picking begins and gallons of berries come off the vines almost every day, needing to be frozen on flat cookies sheets then scooped into freezer bags and stuffed in every nook and cranny of the freezers, leaving no room for my veggie pizzas!  In fall all the old canes have to be cut out and removed, making way for the new ones to winter over and give us another crop.  Also more weeding.  At some point in the fall, we spend a day thawing all those berries and turning them into dozens of jars of jam that we give away and eat ourselves the rest of the year.  

I have felt at times like those berries rule my life and more than once have threatened to plow them under.  But alas, I would never do that because I apparently I also love them...not just the berries which are delicious, but the whole enterprise as a feature of our life on this land.  They have born fruit in years of tending and in years of neglect and we have enjoyed it in spite of the complained-about work.  It's not 4th of July at our house without fresh raspberry sundaes while watching the fireworks from our porch.

A few years ago Hub decided the "raspberry patch" was large enough to also house an apple espalier, so he found a grafted, 4 variety plant and propped it up on a fence and we waited for our apples.  Hmm...not super great, but last year just before our trip to NYC we saw that by the time we returned home we'd have our first decent harvest!  We returned home to a bare plant.  The deer had eaten every single apple.  

Early this summer Hub decided to build a deer fence around the whole area.  It was a lot of work.  But handy-guy that he is, he planned, purchased supplies, and built a 6 ft high fence with swinging gate.  I took one look and said,  "Now we have a farm!"  I think a fence with a gate qualifies as a farm feature.

So this summer, we've moved into farming.  The raspberries produced as they do, especially one end of the patch.  The apples grew big and beautiful.  We looked forward to apple pies and cobblers and just the sweet crunch of apple in the mouth.  In early October, after about three days of not looking,  I wandered down there to check if they were ripe enough to pick yet.  They were GONE!  Again we saw evidence of deer activity.  They'd jumped the 6 foot fence!  Hub said he should have made it 8.  Damn!  

As we stood lamenting, we also took another look at the berry plants.  One end of the rows seemed less happy than the other.  We didn't know why those plants had not produced well this year and did not look healthy --perhaps old age?  But we decided, hmmm, this might be an opportunity to reduce the raspberry load.  We decided to take half the raspberries out and replace them with blueberry plants. I thought when Hub said "a few blueberry bushes" it meant maybe three or four.  We came home with nine!  Three early season producers, three mid-season, three late season.  We expect to have blueberries from June to September, along with our July raspberry harvest.  So much for reducing work and opening up freezer space.

We spent last weekend doing the fall weeding, digging up raspberry plants we had decided to remove and bagging them to pass on to our sons, who decided to take them rather then see them in the "dump pile".  We spread 2-1/2 yards of "Garden Booster" compost with dairy manure, which did in fact remind me of my childhood driving through farmlands in Illinois just after spreading fresh manure.  We planted our blueberry bushes with a mixture of Garden Booster and pine needles to add acid, covered it all with a garden fabric to inhibit the weeds, and literally finished Sunday night after dark, by flashlight, just like old times. I look at our fenced berry farm with pride and hopefulness.  (We have yet to totally solve the apple/deer problem, but we have some ideas.)

Now that I'm a farmer, I may move into ranching.  However, ranching really does imply some sort of livestock.  Our big garden storage shed was an abandoned chicken coop when we bought this property but I really have zero desire to re-populate it with chickens.  About the only animal that really appeals to me to care for is a cat or two.  So if I could I get me a herd of cats for my ranching adventure, that would be great!  I'd have dozens of every breed!  I'd be a Cat Rancher extraordinaire!  "Hey, Hub...I have an idea!" Yippie Yi Oh!  Yippie Yi Yay!   

At least, that's the view from here...©

Kitty Photo Credit:  www.pixabay.com

FOG

I am not sure where I've been...

Well, I've been exactly nowhere since I'm still 90% staying home because turns out there is still a Covid-19 pandemic raging and the numbers are going up locally, but today I feel I've emerged from a bit of a foggy inertia that has kept me from writing here. 

Catching up:

I did a 4-part series in September on my yoga blog about the Enneagram (personality typing) and I think I'll repeat it on this blog sometime.  It's where my brain has been -- studying the Enneagram to explore my inner landscape, my motivations, habits, responses to life events.  It's fascinating and helpful and has given me valuable insight into old ways of being that no longer serve me.  All of this has come up as I continued to marvel at the various ways my friends and family are responding to the pandemic.  But beyond that I have found growth points to work toward that have nothing to do with the Covid crisis and everything to do with finding a healthier way to express my basic personality type in relationship with others.  

This all sounds rather vague here, I know.  Suffice to say, I've been lost in my books, notes, podcasts, and practices.  I love it and it's been incredibly psychologically and emotionally draining -- doing inner personal growth work is necessarily about relationships (with oneself and with others) and that makes it complex, difficult, and ultimately rewarding.  And also, yes, exhausting.  

Also in September we were visited by ten days of unhealthy air due to the smoke descending from wildfires raging in California, Oregon, and Washington.  We kept doors and windows shut tight and looked out into the yellow-gray haze of what should have been sunny, warm late summer days.  It was depressing and scary -- portents of a climate crisis future.

Once the smoke lifted, I went out to my garden.  I decided to stop waiting for help with the "heavy gardening" and just try to tackle it myself.  I spent hours digging out ten huge clumps of bearded irises that were taking over various locations and crowding other plantings out.  Each clump took me between 5 and 20 minutes to unearth, kicking the shovel under the root ball over and over, incrementally levering the root ball up from the earth, then hauling garden cart after garden cart away to the dump pile.  I did the same with four peonies that I transplanted.  I cut back the yellow leaves of my five big hostas, pruned other things back, transplanted a few perennials, mulched some transplants....I sound like a real gardener here.  I have no idea what I'm doing.  I Google everything and hope for the best.  

I feel pretty proud of my work though, and have a sense of satisfaction about taking the initiative and successfully completing hard physical work tasks that normally I might have stewed about and grown frustrated waiting for "manly muscle" help.  (See personal growth work above.)  I'm basically a genteel gardener, but I did it!  Woman!  Roar!  

We've had 4-5 days of rain lately, so I figure all of that garden work and transplanting is getting a nice soaking now and that has to be good, right?  I still have to weed and cut back last year's canes in the two 40 foot rows of raspberry patch, cover the raised beds with some compost and mulch, and generally finish the whole "put the garden (and garden furniture) to bed" chores of Autumn.  I always find it a bit depressing; winter is not my favorite season in this northland where the darkness and rain feels oppressive already.

And then there is politics.  I'm hanging on by my fingernails.  I find my ability to keep attending to the daily outrages waning.  I can hardly stand to read/watch about the latest debacle of decency and assaults on democracy.  I feel if I start writing about it here, I won't be able to stop -- and I'll likely forget something because every day is chock-a-block full of awful: Covid raging (and fights over mandated attempts to slow it); the current White House occupant behaving like a petulant child at the presidential debate; the Covid epidemic hitting the Administration (33 tested positive -- some refusing to have the test; the president and first lady testing positive, then declaring they are "cured" and that the virus is not a big deal, so don't worry about it. Tell that to the 210,000 families of Americans who have died.); a far right wing conservative nominated to fill Ruth Bader Ginsburg's seat on the Supreme Court and the GOP rushing the hearings to get her seated prior to the election; voter suppression tactics in full force; a president who is undermining the validity of the election and refusing to leave office unless he feels the election has been "fair" (with him being the decider on that).  Then there is the ongoing lying, gaslighting, ridiculing...

So, my response has been to stop checking my phone for the latest news. (I literally leave it upstairs in my bedside table only checking for updates a couple times a day.)  I have signed up with organizations working to write postcards to GOTV (Get Out The Vote) with Postcards to Voters, Reclaim Our Vote, and Moms Rising (over 200 written to date.)  I have also completed 100 letters for Vote Forward.  I took a text-banking training and know I should get busy on that too.....and I'm tired.  If I were a marathon runner I would not be one who gets a second wind....I'd be the one crawling, panting and bloodied, across the finish line.  At least the polls are looking good for our side...and then 2016 flashbacks pop into my head and I'm back wondering what more I can do.  I can't do nothing.

There is a word I've discovered for this fog of overwhelm: acedia.  Physical and emotional isolation (covid), along with a steady barrage of bad news (politics, social unrest, climate crises), creates feelings of listlessness and anxiety, which is a legitimate response to the current predicament.  Some may think this is depression, but it feels different.  It feels to me claustrophobic -- not hopeless in the same way as depression; more like impatient and agitating, with no way out.  The point is, this is a valid feeling to have and it has brought me lately to a place of inertia: "bored, listless, afraid, and uncertain". *

I hope the urge to write today means I am returning to the land of the living -- emerging from the fog with clear-sighted resilience.  No matter what happens on any of these fronts, the task is to keep moving forward, questing for a fully lived life of self-awareness, connection, growth, and commitment.  

Also, I may take a nap.

At least, that's the view from here...©

Photo Credit:  pixabay.com

*Resource: "Acedia: the lost name for the emotion we are all feeling right now", by Jonathan Zecher, writing for 'The Connection', August 2020

GARDENING LIKE A FOUR-YEAR-OLD

Well, it's been spring for awhile.  Beautiful weather and the gardeners are out en force planning, shopping, planting, and pruning.  I'm late due to trips, travels, Hub's knee replacement surgery, yoga training weekend intensives.  I feel like I just woke up to spring and it's nearly summer!

Yesterday Hub and I went plant shopping at one of my favorite locally-owned garden centers and I was aghast at what I saw -- nearly empty tables, empty greenhouses, and outdoor spaces with only a smattering of plants.  In a panic I asked if they were going out of business.  Nope. They are selling out as fast as they get deliveries!  The gal said if I wanted anything in particular, I should ask for it and be there the minute the shipment arrives.  I've never encountered this before there.  And it totally goes against my gardening style. How in the world will I know what I want before I get there???

I decided today that I garden like a 4 year old.  I had an overnight guest last night of that age, so I know whereof I speak.  Spontaneous, impulsive, messy, disorganized, confident, confused, impatient, and joyful.  

Today my charge and I went to a local arboretum plant sale.  It's an annual thing, but I'd never been.  Others knew just how to navigate the event; we did not.  First of all, BYO wagon or boxes or "borrowed" grocery cart.  They had a few small wheelbarrows for shoppers, but they were at such a premium that I'd still be there waiting my turn at one if I'd bothered.  We decided that in spite of the great prices and selection, we really could only buy what we could carry.  I got a flat of something small that goes in containers and trails over the edges.  I have no idea what things are called -- "little white flower", my partner said.   She got a teeny, tiny succulent in a stone owl container: $1.00.  Bargain Hunter!

After I took her home, I went to the big box hardware/garden store for more plants.  They have carts. I was pretty successful there, I guess.  I chose some random flowering plants and spent some more money anyway and was able to find real steals on the discounted table!   When I got home and tipped those plants out of the containers though I found they were severely root bound, which necessitated the first interruption of my planting schedule.  

Google is as much a part of my gardening adventure as is a shovel.  

I'm forever realizing how little I know about garden stuff and constantly have to stop and look things up.  I feel this is another of my "adulting" failings.  Women of my age seem to  have been gardening for decades and know all the names of their plants and where to put them, how much sun and water and food they need, and how to troubleshoot the occasional disaster.  I know nothing.

Today, in addition to looking up "how to plant root bound flowers" (shave or cut through the worst and try to loosen the dirt around the rootball), I looked up "soil for succulents" (well-draining cactus mix -- which necessitated me replanting since I'd already planted them in normal potting soil), "do succulents needs full sun all day?" (surprisingly not -- they like a little shade; mine from last year likely struggled and/or died due to overwatering since the sprinkler system hits the container, or cold since I left them out all winter), "how to keep squirrels from eating (my) holly tree" (shoot them (seriously!) or spray the tree with hot pepper oil -- which in my case would be impossible since the tree is about 25 feet tall!)

I make lots of messes too, as I never plan ahead.  Today I watered a hanging basket on the floor of the deck then raised it up overhead to hang it on the hook.  Water started to drain out of the bottom all over my head!  Wouldn't an adult have foreseen this?

I also don't pay attention to soil falling from the pots onto the porch or sidewalk or stone paths; I just dive in wherever the plants and pots happen to be sitting.  Why don't I just move the operation to the grass?

I tend to wear flip flops instead of changing into sensible shoes and I generally wear no gloves (I can't feel what I'm doing with gloves on!), so I'm a muddy, dirty mess when I'm finished, with dirt stains under my nails for days.

Yesterday I cut myself on a disintegrating clay pot and immediately decided I'd now have sepsis.  I don't really trust dirt.  Isn't it, like, dirty?!?  It was bleeding, which I thought good since it would wash the germs out.  I ran in and washed it with bacteria-busting soap, slathered on some Neosporin and a bandaid and waited for symptoms.  None so far.  

In spite of my impulsivity and lack of any real knowledge, I always plant with the utmost confidence that all will be well.  This is some uncharacteristic Pollyanna-ish thinking on my part, but it just seems like things grow here with little tending.  I don't pick any persnickety plants -- just ones that seem to thrive on benign neglect for the most part and keep coming back for more.  I walk through my gardens with a sense of pride and accomplishment.  But really, digging a hole and filling it with a living thing and watching it grow is amazingly easy.  I tip my hat to the gardeners who have figured out the right soil mix for me to buy or create, the right plant for me to put either in the shade or sun, and for a sprinkler system and a couple of watering cans.

This is easy like a 4 year old's life is easy -- someone else is leading, teaching, and talking me through the hard parts (thanks, Google and garden center folk) and joining me in the joy of the result by continuing to make plants available for me to randomly choose from each spring with a big grin of unfounded confidence.  BYO wagon.

At least, that's the view from here...

P.S.  A few weeks ago, aforementioned 4 year old helped me plant seeds in the veggie beds.  All started to grow except the peas!  I was stumped, but figured I hadn't watered enough.  So I went back to the package to grab some more to replant.  The package had never been opened!  Then I recalled, she had to go potty at some point in the planting and that interruption likely resulted in forgetting to plant the peas!  See?  I'm a 4 year old when it comes to being on top of this gardening thing; we'd probably moved on to painting a picture or something.  Another worthy endeavor, albeit messy.  (A theme emerges....) ©

GARDENING THE OPRAH WAY

I'm always late putting my garden in cuz we go to Kauai in April and by the time we get back and get everything ready to plant, it's mid-May.  But it seems to work out.  Our harvest is bountiful enough.  We are generally late with weed pulling too -- leaving us a huge late spring task to tackle.

We inherited a large raspberry patch with this property which we bought in 1982.  I have no idea how old the raspberry canes are, but I gotta think many decades and it amazes me they still are healthy and producing.  This year they are especially happy since we cut down some big trees last summer that had begun to keep that area in shade most of the day.  They, and our new lawn, are loving the sunshine!

And so are the weeds.  I should have taken a "before" photo to really do this post justice, but here's the "after".  Try to visual weeds all along both sides of the two 32-foot long rows and down the middle, in spite of that mesh stuff we laid down that's suppose to discourage such growth.  I guess it did "discourage" in some areas, but certainly didn't stop it.  On Sunday Hub and I spent several hours on hands, knees, and butt scooting along the rows digging up and pulling out errant weeds and large patches of stubborn crabgrass.

I thought of Oprah.  I had just seen her on TV sitting in her pristine California garden waxing poetic about the spiritual bliss of gardening.  Right.  I also read an article where she mentioned, "with the help of a natural resource management group, we planted an acre...."  Oh.  The Royal "We".  I think the hourly employees of that management group did the tilling, planting, weeding, maintaining.  If you Google Oprah's Garden photos, they always show her looking all earthy, holding large baskets of recently harvested and picture-perfect vegetables ready to take inside for the cook to deal with.

Don't get me wrong, I love Oprah; especially when she has no make up on and her hair is sorta crazy. But there is no way in hell she is doing the muscle cramping, backbreaking work of gardening.  She's doing the "payoff" fun part!  I love harvesting too!  It's amazing to think these things actually grow from a little seed in the dirt.  But on Sunday, I was ready to plow those damn raspberry rows under and turn the whole thing into lawn that Hub can mow.  I know that is blasphemy.  I don't really mean it (much).

Here's the thing....I really relate to Oprah's love of the idea of gardening.  I, and she, just don't want to really do all the work-y parts.  I'm going to Google "natural resource management groups" and see if I can get expert advice on harvesting without actually having to dig, weed, plant, compost, tend, stake, fence, and guard from slugs, deer, and bunnies.  I'll just head out there in August with my groovy hand-woven garden basket and pile it high with colorful veggies for Hub to cook.  That will be a Super Spiritual practice.

At least, that's the view from here...©

GARDEN 2.0

Well, I'm at it again.  As you may recall, at the ripe old age of 62, I started to show a real interest in gardening last year.  I posted photos of my "kids" -- the tomato plants lined up on my sunny deck.  I named them, coddled them, talked to and sang to them.  (I got several golf-ball sized tomatoes and was THRILLED!)

I planted some other veggies too, in our one raised bed, and we started a fairly large landscaping project in our side yard that had been an expanse of flat lawn for as long as we've lived here.  We bought trees and shrubs and perennials.  We were oh so delighted!

Everything wintered over fairly well, I thought.  We lost a few perennials but the big (and more pricey) stuff seems pretty happy -- except for one Japanese maple I've been trying to diagnose.  I'm about to give up and take some cuttings to the University Extension Service for a consultation.  I DO NOT want to lose that tree!

We built two more raised beds this spring and filled all three of them with seeds and starts and they are growing!  I find this to be miraculous again, as if I never noticed that food actually grows from the ground rather than from the Farmer's Market stall or Costco cold room.

But upon closer inspection the other day I found that not only was the Maple having an infestation of something (spider mites?), so is my honeysuckle (aphids I think), and lupine (I suspect slugs), and my favorite Bleeding Hearts, upon which I believe a mole or vole or some such underground tunneling creature has decided to make a meal of the roots.

I went through a day of deep discouragement.  I spent almost as much time running in to the computer to diagnose the situation as I did enjoying working in my garden.  It dawned on me that this is why true gardeners are at it nearly constantly.  It's a big science project -- water and nutrients and pest control and all different for each plant!  I'm not so good at science.

We went to the local garden art fair this past weekend and I realized that what I love about gardens is  the beauty of them -- the art of the thing rather than the science.    So, I am going to find out what grows relatively easily and without too much fussing and plant lots of that.  Then I'm going to strategically place beautiful, whimsical garden art here and there for contrast and interest.  Brilliant, right?  No watering, no pest-shooing, no fertilizing….just a place of serenity and beauty.

Well, that's the plan for today.  But my lavender is about to burst into fragrant purple abundance, the broccoli is growing like crazy, the beans and peas are climbing, even the pepper plants look happy.  And the tomatoes -- I didn't name them this year, but they seem to be thriving nonetheless.

Maybe too much perseverating isn't healthy for me.  Just take a tough love approach and let nature take its course.  And plant a few works of art to delight the eye.  Yep…

At least that's the view from here…. ©

EXCITED. ALSO SICK & TIRED.

First of all….when you put something out to the Universe in a strong and declarative way, it will often come back to you (for good or ill).  In my last post I declared: "I am a writer!"  And guess what?  Within a few days, someone offered to PAY me to write for them.  It will be a new blog about yoga.  Excited!

Other than that, it's been a tough month and I am in a contemplative state of mind.  I always worry a bit that this blog is too close to a personal journal, then I have people tell me how much they can relate to my experiences and it only encourages me to continue in this navel-gazing vein, thinking we really are all in this life together and there may be only a few discreet human experiences, but hundreds of ways to interpret and live them.  So here goes...

I'm back to feeling a vague sense of queasiness a lot of the time.  I feel like it's the first day of a bout with the flu.  Tired, sort of tummy sick, a little head-achy, just want to moan and sit still.  Then it passes and I'm fine….until out of the blue it hits me again.  I spent a year like this not long ago and underwent every test in the book with no diagnosis (but I did lose 25 pounds!).  I don't really want to do this again.  I'm managing, but I'm frustrated and a little scared.  And my level of compassion for people who have real, debilitating, chronic ailments is at an all-time high.  I cannot imagine….

I'm trying to clean up my diet again; I'd gotten lazy and gave in too often to my sweet tooth.  I gained a few pounds and the carb cravings were back.  So maybe that's it.  I don't know; I really don't.  I just feel like whining about it, but that does no one any good and puts out to the Universe exactly what I don't want!  They say, when you are asking for what you want, to be clear and positive; don't say what you don't want:  "I don't want to be sick; I don't want to be sick; I don't want to be sick"…is heard as sick sick sick!  Say instead, "I am strong and healthy; I am strong and healthy; I am strong and healthy"…and health and strength abound!  Worth a try.

Also, I'm in burn-out mode and all of the above may also be the physical manifestation of the mental and emotional toll of my usual habit of over-committing, over-extending, over-scheduling, over-worrying, over-working, overly-perfectionistic tendencies.  Sheesh!  I just can't seem to learn this lesson!  How many times have I been here??? (A lot, I tell ya!)   So, the Ugly Critic Monster has shown up to berate me for being a slacker and unable to keep up the pace, unable to let criticism and conflict roll off my back, unable to just forge ahead like "normal" accomplished and highly functioning people can.   I've taken to the sofa with my TV remote and crocheting.  I have stopped committing to things and am telling everyone I'm on a summer hiatus beginning June 1st.  I am only going to do EXACTLY what I want to do and that will not include any meetings, few social engagements, no obligations.  So there!

When I'm in these sick and tired states I tend to get sad and think about all my regrets and mistakes.  It's a nice wallow, but I get sick and tired of that soon enough as well.  Then I decide to fix me.  Again.

My latest "fix me" fix is re-reading Grain Brain (by David Perlmutter, MD) to get me eating right again (cut the carbs!!!)  And I've just started reading Buddha's Brain (by Rick Hanson, Ph.D.) to get me thinking right.  (It is not lost on me that all this emphasis on "brains" is the opposite of living from the heart -- a goal of mine -- but I'll deconstruct that inconsistency another time.)   Buddha's Brain, at least the first 70 pages, is an enlightening discussion of the evolution of brain development and the biochemistry of feeling states and how we actually reinforce, chemically and neurologically, that which we think and feel.  And, the great part is we can train and re-program ourselves to think and feel better!  We can pursue practices which literally change our brain's response to pain and suffering, anxiety and depression.   So, that seems like a good goal while I'm on hiatus from  eating every sugary treat within 10 miles and being overwhelmed with tasks and depressed about people not appreciating my efforts.  (Poor, poor pitiful me.)

Please (please!) tell me you can relate to this rambling.  Or if not….

I'll be back soon with the always uplifting and simply hilarious tales of another gardening season at IvyWood, which is the name I secretly gave our property many years ago.  It reflects the wooded greenbelt that runs adjacent to where we live and also the absolutely ill-advised decision to plant ivy ground cover over the slope behind our house.  It is generally ill-advised for me to even go outside, actually.  But I'm giving gardening another shot this year; maybe I should write a book about my experiences:  Green Brain.

At least that's the view from here… ©

SO PROUD

Just a quick update on the "kids".... (See posts from May 20 and July 3)

All are growing into maturity, at varying rates.   Our first two little beauties were harvested with great fanfare, cut delicately, and arranged onto a serving plate to be shared 6 ways at a family dinner.   Magnifico!

I'm pretty proud of nurturing tomatoes into redness.  It's a first for me, as I come late to the gardening craze.  I want to take all the credit, but I'm seeing that growing things is a fine balance of so many factors that I feel I am the least of them.  It's actually a small miracle, isn't it?  Dirt and seeds and good weather....a delicate and powerful push toward life.

May that Force be with us all.

At least, that's the view from here...

MARY, MARY QUITE CONTRARY....

How does MY garden grow?  Well, typically not that great.  But this year, I don't know, something has taken root within me and I am A GARDENING ADDICT!

I think it was the slow water torture of many years of observing friends devoting themselves to flower and vegetable gardening so vocally and passionately.  Or maybe it's me (at last!) putting down all the gardening magazines, articles, newspaper clippings, and Pintrest posts showing lush and beautiful gardens, and deciding, YES I CAN!

My previous attempts have not been pretty.  But then, I didn't try very hard.  This year we've begun to implement the "30-years on the to-do list" landscaping plan in our side yard.  We cut out part of the vast expanse of lawn on one side of the house and created berms that are the Phase I of a multi-phase plan for re-imagining that part of our property.

I've called in the experts -- a small team friends, gardening veterans all, who have come over to see my  empty dirt and make recommendations about what to plant where.  I've made a new friend at a local nursery who has agreed to be "on call" for me (and probably hundreds of others who frequent her nursery and value her knowledge).

I am so delighted by all of this that I got seriously motivated and started to plant trees, shrubs and perennials that I actually hope will grow.  I am watering and feeding, tending, and fretting.  I also have a little raised bed vegetable garden and those afore-posted-about tomato plants on the back deck (update coming soon!)

And, I have a suspicion there is more going on here than just a sudden wake-up call to the joys and challenges of gardening.  It just feels different.... I feel different.

First, how long was I planning to get to this "someday"?  I'm not gettin' any younger!  All those years of pouring over gardening magazines and books was not going to get the job done.  I had to admit it; I wanted a garden, not just a lot of pretty pictures.

Next, I am aware that I have a need to "mother" something in my home.  My children are grown, the dog and cat are dead, the bird feeder at the front porch was fun but way too messy and drew critters I DID NOT want hanging around, my houseplants are healthy, happy, and not very needy anymore -- but an outdoor garden?  Now there was something I could take under my maternal wing and NURTURE!

And then there is the whole mortality thing that is never far from my mind.  I feel like planting the trees, especially, is planting something that will live on after I am gone.  I am planting something the earth will nourish and will be nourished by.  I am leaving a legacy.  I am creating something beautiful.  I am intimately involved in the circle of the seasons -- the life and death cycle of which everything is a part.  It feels calming and comforting; a reminder that I am just a cog in big, giant wheel that will go on and on in one way or another.... the Grand Garden of Life, Death, and Rebirth.

At least, that's the view from here....©

PROUD PARENTS

You may recall my post in May about my inability to grow tomatoes.  But, with renewed commitment and the brilliant idea of naming them, talking to them, and basically anthropomorphizing them into vitality, things are going swimmingly!

We had an early scare that they may have contracted the deadly "blight", but, NO!  Hub and I got busy with gentle pruning, petting, and repeated positive affirmations, bringing them back to health!!!  Hallelujia!

So, take a look.  We are such proud parents.  Of course, there is still a ways to go...but lookin' good for now!

At least, that's the view from here...©

  

YOU SAY TOMATO, I SAY DISASTER

A while back I wrote about the fact that both of my parents, having grown up on "grow it or starve" farms in the 30's, had little desire to continue with the 'grow your own' life once they fled to the city and found the Kroger store.  My mom, however, did grow the occasional tomato and I recall them being huge, red, juicy and delicious.

I have tried to grow tomatoes too.  Unsuccessfully.  Dreadfully.  Discouragingly.

So, when Hub went to a plant sale yesterday and came home with several tomato plants of different varieties, I was not thrilled; dismayed, actually.  The pressure, once again, was on to see if we could coax any one of them to give up even one ripe tomato at harvest time.  Stressful!

Let me say this:  My house plants are healthy, happy, and thriving.  I just can't seem to duplicate my "inner" green thumb in the "outer" world of my yard.  Oh, anyone can beat back the usual insanely prolific number of species of shrub, bush, and weed here in the Northwest.  But anything I plant on purpose, especially if it is meant to end up as food on my table, usually ends up droopy, brown, and dead, in spite of my fussing and worrying and reading a library-full of gardening books.

But it's all the craze these days to grow some of your own food and believe me, I LOVE that idea.  It's just that I'm so awful at it.  And I admit, some of the awfulness is that I sort of lose interest in the science of the whole enterprise....soil chemical analysis, compost structure, watering methods, various fertilizer options (organic, of course!) and pest control (organic, of course!)  It is a botany lab that this liberal arts major flunks every time!

So, now I have these tomato plants lined up on our back deck (where they will get the most sun and reflected warmth from the wall) and already I feel they are mocking me a little.  But I have adopted a new tactic.  I am naming them.  They are going to be my little babies and I am going to anthropomorphize them into healthy growth and full fruited harvest!   I'm sure it will work.  If I think I am "feeding them breakfast" and "giving them a drink of water" and making sure they get their "booster shots" on time, and chasing away the "bully bugs"...that should work, right?

Meet Patte, Tony, Manny, Blossom, and Osue.  We also have Apollo, an independent spirit hanging out on the other side of the deck.  (Names loosely attached to the varietal, in case you were wondering.)

 I'm sure we are going to have a lovely bonding experience over the summer.

Then I will slice, dice, and devour them just like a good mommy should.

At least, that's the view from here....

DEFINE "SIMPLE"

Voluntary simplicity.  I'm all for it.  There has been a slow erosion of our collective ability to see through the marketing blizzard that keeps us hopping to corporate-sponsored self-interest in our spending and consuming habits.  We THINK we need more, bigger, better.  The end result is an economy in shambles and an environment on the edge of disaster.

Yet, there is a tendency in some circles to romanticize the "good old days" when times were simpler, people were more important than things, and consumerism wasn't a national past-time.   I think a bunch of those words need definition and context: "good"?  "simple"?  "things"?

I am one generation removed from the family farm.  Both of my parents (and their parents, and their parents....) grew up on family farms in the rural midwest in the 1920's and 1930's.  Twenty acres of corn and beans, a large kitchen garden, some dairy cows, chickens, hogs, and horses to pull the plows.  They ate what they grew, slaughtered hogs for sausage and ham, gathered eggs and wrung the necks of chickens that ended up on the kitchen table.  Milk came directly from Bessie out in the barn.

Both of my parents fled this life the minute they could in the 1940's, escaping to the city to find factory work, buy a modest home on an old tree-lined street, and plant flower beds skirting the lawn.

We never went camping when I was a kid in the 50's/60's because my dad's too vivid memories of waking up with ice water in the glass by his bed after the fires went out during the night, of hauling water, tending animals and doing hard, physical outdoor work on the farm every day left him with no desire to re-live this existence for recreational purposes.  He worked hard and was proud that HIS family had a roof over our heads in a home that was warm and comfortable.

They also had no desire to plant a garden.  They had both worked long, hard hours growing the food their families would eat on the farm.  And in seasons when the garden was meager, hunger was a reality.  They not only didn't eat well in that case, they also had little to barter in town for grain, sugar, and flour, further decimating the pantry.  New clothes, toys, Christmas gifts?  Not so much.

Most nights they went to bed at early dusk, bone tired and beaten down, only to get up and do it again every single day of the year.

I guess you could say their life was "simple" and "things" didn't matter, but I'm not so sure those old days were "good" either.

So I get impatient about romanticizing about the "good old days" when discussions of voluntary simplicity and non-consumerism crop up.   Yes, we need to examine our wasteful ways, but returning to a by-gone time isn't my goal.

I want to look squarely at my own weakness for Madison Avenue's influences and become much more discerning about what I need versus what I want.  And that becomes a tricky thing indeed.  I really, really want an I-Phone.  Do I NEED it?  Hmmmm.....  How about that big truck and camper we bought last year?  Need?  Want?  Or our annual trip to Kauai?  Need?  Want?  It seems easy to decide in theory, but there are a million ways in which my life is enhanced by satisfying some wants in ways that are important...experiences and memories are what make a life full and rich.  I want that.  Need, however, is pretty basic stuff:  enough food to keep me from starving, adequate clothing appropriate to the season, shelter from nature's whims.  Finding the balance between need and want is where my energies lie.

Here's what I will do.  I will voluntarily do my best to ponder each spending/consuming decision I make to ensure I am awake and aware of my motives.  I think by doing this I can simplify my life and the choices I make, with an eye toward economic equality and environmental health.  I have some "cleaning out" to do; some "downsizing" some day; that all feels good.

But for now, I also know I want to honor what my parents endured by realizing that our abundance of CHOICE was hard won by the hard work and sacrifice of people who came before us.  They weren't perfect; maybe their own trials made them easy fodder for Madison Avenue too.  But I know that if my garden fails, Costco is right down the street.  They made sure I wouldn't starve; now I need to make sure others, and our planet, do not suffer from the result of my wants outstripping their needs.

At least, that's the view from here....©