New Roots

Happy New (Gardening) Year!

2012-01-22T10:09:00.004-07:00

Today is one of my favorite days of winter—seed ordering day! Yesterday, while the Boyfriend was waxing his snowboard and doing very winter-like things, I hung out with him in the garage and pulled out my tub of seeds to take stock of what we had, what we needed, and what we could probably toss. It felt good just to hold all the seed packets in my hands and feel the seeds through the paper. It felt good to lose myself in thoughts of spring and green things. Each packet has a story or a memory—the tomato seeds I bought to grow for Mom's mother's day present, the green beans that didn't produce until October, the Siletz tomato seeds that have been with me since the Mini. I organized all the packets in a way that probably only made sense to me and would make any horticulturist or true gardener cringe.

Armed with my current inventory list, I sat down this morning with the seed catalog, which of course I had already perused and marked up, and decided what to order. I'm sure I ordered more than we need, but it's so hard to narrow it down. Here's the final order:

We're probably not doing melons or corn this year. After a couple disappointing years with both, we're going to give the space to something else this year. We're doing more beans, carrots, and squash. I'm also going to do more herbs since they dried so nicely in the food dehydrator last year. The flavor of our dried oregano doesn't even compare to what you buy in the store. I also want to grow dill this year, although I'm a bit nervous since I've been told it spreads like wildfire. However, with homegrown dill, Mom and I can probably make our pickles with almost all homegrown vegetables this year since I do garlic and we both do onions (her more successfully than me).

The logical part of me knows that spring is so very far away, but seed ordering day always makes me feel like we've turned the corner. When the seeds come in, I'll start some seeds indoors, invariably much too early, and start the weekly countdown to the average last frost date. I'll kill lots of seedlings and probably set my beautiful tomato starts outside much too early, forget about them some chilly night, and kill them, all just to start the process over again the next day, undeterred by how bad I apparently am at this seed starting thing. That's the miracle of it all: the hope and promise and potential that come with spring and each of those tiny little seeds is absolutely indestructible.

Oh the places we’ve been!

2011-11-12T14:51:00.001-07:00

Over the past 14 months, my life has been filled with many experiences I thought I would never have. Not surprisingly, those experiences have taken me to many places where I thought I'd never be, at least not for another 50 years. One of those places is the medical supply store. I used to go about once every 3 weeks, but I've since doubled my order and only have to stop by every 6 weeks or so. Still, it's an interesting experience that comes with a mix of emotions.

On the one hand, wow does that place make me feel young and skinny! I'm usually the youngest person in there by at least 20 years. And those that are 20 years older than me are usually there with an elderly relative helping to get oxygen tanks or walkers. The other option for the younger crowd is that they are there for welding safety supplies. Are all medical supply stores also welding and industrial safety supply stores? Well ours is, and let me tell you, it makes for an interesting dynamic. They try to keep the two clienteles separate, but the people watching is still topnotch.

I learned after my first couple visits that proper protocol is to call about a week before I need the supplies to make sure they're in-stock and have them placed in will call. This phone call is one of the few that I can actually make at work. They can look up my order by my name and birthdate, so I don't have to proclaim to the whole office what it is I need. However, I always get a chuckle out of asking them to place it in will call. Shouldn't will call be for something fun like concert or theater tickets? Not always, I guess. I can only imagine what my cubicle neighbors are thinking at work.

When I head out to pick them up, I used to get asked who the patient is, but not so much anymore. However, my biggest pet peeve is when I go to the will call counter and give them my name and they ask what the order is. Really? How many orders do you have for Erica Jensen? The customer service person usually asks as he's walking back into the warehouse, so I get to yell "two boxes of catheters" across the showroom floor for all the welders and old people to hear. Oh well, it doesn't get to me as much as it used to.

I used to run out to the medical supply store over my lunch hour, but I found it got me kind of down. So I've started going on the weekend when the Boyfriend can go with me and we make an event out of it, either going out to dinner or shopping while we're out. It's amazing what good company can do for the whole feel of a place. Everything always feels like it's going to be ok when he's there. Plus, we can laugh at the welding supplies, give the old people pointers, and walk that will call line like it's the red carpet. When we need our oxygen tanks in 50 years, we are going to be old pros.

September: Reclaimed

2011-10-04T20:08:00.001-06:00

As the Labor Day weekend approached this year, I prepared myself for the worst. It marked a year since surgery—a year since so much changed in our life. I expected a total breakdown and planned accordingly. How, you ask? By scheduling a celebratory weekend and following it up with an entire month dedicated toward taking back September. Life passed us by last September, and I was determined to make the most of it this year. It is one of the nicest months in Boise, and while I still enjoyed the view last year from the recliner, I missed lots of my favorite events and the peak of our garden.

So what did we do? We kicked off September 1 by going to a Hawks baseball game on what happened to be half-price beer night. Friday September 2 was the official one-year anniversary of the surgery and we planned to celebrate at a nice restaurant, but plans changed and we celebrated with fast food at the Boyfriend's office followed by drinks with friends. It was a great night and an even better reminder that it's the company and not the location that makes a celebration!

What else? We have watched football games, tailgated, gone to football games, attended BBQs and parties, hosted a BBQ, gone to Art in the Park, celebrated birthdays (three in one weekend!) and weddings, gone to a charity event, witnessed an app unveiling, wandered around the Hyde Park Street Fair, watched Casablanca at the Botanical Gardens, harvested veggies and berries from the garden, and sat on patios and drank beer. We had a jam-packed month that almost makes me exhausted if it weren't for the fact that we'll be hibernating soon. Soon enough, thoughts of watching movies outside will seem just as foreign as plopping a juicy, still-warm cherry tomato in my mouth straight from the vine.

Part of the month-long celebration was an attempt to derail any breakdown that might be creeping up, but part of it was truly an honest-to-goodness celebration. During a year when each day has been measured by a millimeter, the year mark represents a significant milestone. I was given a pretty broad window for seeing improvements, but all of those windows started around the year mark. Hitting that mark means being that much closer to getting better. It means a year of all this is behind us and better things are coming. It was also a celebration of the people in my life. I was flooded with memories of last year when cards, calls, emails, and visitors all made me feel so very loved and lucky. Those thoughts have done so much to lift my spirits not just last September but over the course of the entire last year.

So here's to the next 365 millimeters—whatever they may bring.

How Does Our Garden Grow?

2011-07-12T19:34:00.004-06:00

Well, most importantly it continues to grow regardless of how much (little) I write about it. Which, if you have been paying attention, is quite lucky for us indeed.

But I had to take a moment to write about one of my favorite days of the year, which just happened to be today. Today the Boyfriend and I harvested our garlic. Since I knew what to expect this year, it might not have been quite as exciting as last year, but it was pretty darn close. We dug fourteen nice garlic bulbs out of the north raised bed: seven hardnecks and seven softnecks. The softnecks were a little bigger than the hardnecks. I think I remember making the same observation last year, but I don't know that I could skip planting the hardnecks next year just because I love looking out in the garden this time of year and seeing the garlic scapes rising from the hardnecks. They look like regal but puny green geese standing guard over the garden.

Last year, my favorite part of the harvest was actually pulling the garlic out of the ground and finding out that a real garlic bulb had in fact grown under the ground over the past nine months. This year, my favorite part was peeling back those first few dirty layers of the bulb to expose the bright white skin just below the surface. You would never know these things had been living in the ground for the better part of a year. There's something cleansing and invigorating about the whole process.

And this year, as a thank-you-for-tending-your-garden bonus prize, we unearthed some beautiful fingerling potatoes! They had sprouted up in the midst of the garlic since that's where the potatoes were planted last year. I didn't expect any of them to be harvestable, but as we pulled out the garlic we got a nice dinner's worth of gorgeous fingerlings.

The potatoes are drying and the garlic is tucked away inside its critter-proof cage to dry in the sun for the next couple weeks. It was a good day indeed!

If happiness was a seed…

2011-05-28T09:28:00.003-06:00

If happiness was a seed and grew up to be a flower, this is the flower it would be. In which case, happiness would have to be a rhizome, but you get the point.

Why this flower? Well, it could actually be any one of these dozen or so irises that started blooming last week in front of our house. I waited three springs for these flowers, but their history goes back much further than that.

These irises came from Grandma Zada's yard in Nebraska. Mom dug them up, put them in her carry-on, and hauled them half way across the country for me about four years ago now. They were the only item I requested from Grandma's house. I waited for the following spring to plant them, which meant I planted them in a concrete planter on the happy little patio at the Mini. As if I had carefully and thoughtfully stored them just right in the plastic bag surrounded by a paper bag (you know mom and bugs), they sprang right up—fans of dark green, promising-looking leaves. However, they didn't flower that first year.

By mid-summer, our lives were on the move again as we moved into Big Red, aka the Barn. I dug up the irises and moved them to the new house and planted them out front next to the driveway. Since they had been transplanted yet again, the next spring offered a repeat performance: big green fans of healthy-looking leaves, but no flowers. We held out hope for quite a while, but as we watched irises bloom and eventually die all over town, we knew it wasn't going to happen.

Well, this year was finally their year. I didn't even know what type of iris they were or what color they were going to be. They're just perfect. Then again, they could have been the ugliest flower you've ever seen and they'd still be just perfect to me. Everything they represent is good and happy.

When we went to Ogallala for Grandma's funeral, I loved getting to show the Boyfriend around town and show him all the places that meant so much to me. But it just wasn't the same without going to Grandma's house—the backyard, the beer 30, the porch, the flowers, the birdbath. That was Grandma. These irises are all those wonderful things combined. And they make me feel like a tangible part of that house, of Grandma, is still with us. If only those rhizomes could talk…

Garden Inventory 2011

2011-05-15T21:37:00.004-06:00

I fear that I'm inclined to do this inventory tonight because of the cold weather coming this week. I got everything planted over this past week, and while the lows are only supposed to be in the low 40s, we seem to be in a cold pocket that is predictably cooler. In any case, as of today this is what we have in our 2011 garden.

In the north raised bed along the fence, we have two kinds of garlic (a softneck and hardneck), three kinds of lettuce (black-seeded simpson, a salad blend mix, and little gem), and a super sweet 100 tomato. We also have some volunteer potatoes that we might let go. Between the bed and the fence I've planted some sunflowers.

In the front raised bed, starting at the left, we have four broccoli plants that are doing great. We even have the beginnings of the first crowns. Next to the broccoli are two kinds of radishes (sparkling white tip and watermelon). In the middle of the bed are beets, although not many came up. I planted one of our baby tomatoes (a redo Brandywine) in the middle of the beets. In the cold frame are green onions, only a couple big onions (the ones I direct seeded outside didn't come up, but a couple transplants made it), a roma tomato, and a couple marigolds.

In the back raised bed, starting at the left, we have sugar snap peas coming up the trellis, and in front of those are parsnips and two kinds of carrots (muscade and danvers half-long). In the middle of the bed are a couple marigolds, a black prince tomato, and some basil. Under the cold frame are two more tomatoes (a mortgage lifter and a German Johnson), another basil, and a couple more marigolds.

In the back bed along the fence, we've got potatoes coming up on the right and melon (tam dew) and yellow squash under the cold house. We'll be putting pole beans and corn back there as well.

I've loaded up our pots with odds and ends (i.e., baby plants that I can't bring myself to kill), peppers, and herbs. By the door we have rosemary, strawberries, albino peppers, parsley, and jalapeno peppers. By the grill we have orange mint, oregano, and baby pink icicle tomatoes (that don't look like they're going to make it). By the hose bib, the big pot has Anaheim peppers and the small pots have thyme and some baby tomatoes (Brandywines). The last group of pots have a chocolate bell pepper, marigolds, and a determinate tomato that I'm blanking on the name at the moment (solar something-or-other).

I have one other baby tomato out front, and our hanging baskets by the front door have strawberries in them this year. We've even got a red one already! We've still got our raspberries in the back and we've replaced the strawberries in the strawberry bed.

I was really disappointed about losing the tomato starts, but I bought a couple tomatoes from Edwards (and any excuse to go to Edwards is fine by me) and a friend was nice enough to give us a few as well. I also ended up buying a few peppers from Edwards (the Anaheims) and some herbs. Here's hoping it all survives the night!

The Not-so-rush Hour

2011-05-03T07:00:00.001-06:00

Yesterday I experienced my first ever pleasant bike ride to work. I biked to an old job a few times from the Mini, but it was a chore—never something I looked forward to. The route took me along some of Boise's least bike-friendly streets and left me white knuckled and stressed by the time I got to work.

Biking from the new house to the new job is a whole different story. Although the Boyfriend assures me the distance is about the same as that old ride, 95% of it is along Boise's Greenbelt, which is yet another part of this city that makes it so wonderful. I won't pretend that the Greenbelt doesn't have its frustrations. Any Boisean will tell you it can be a bit of a bumpy ride. But there are no stop lights, no diesel trucks blowing fumes into your lungs, and no drowsy motorists completely unaware of their surroundings. There are geese, which I'm convinced are quite vicious, but no close calls to report yet.

So yesterday morning, after a practice ride last weekend, the Boyfriend and I set out on our two-wheeled morning commute. There couldn't be a nicer way to start the day. It was chilly yesterday morning, but once we got pedaling I felt great. After a short stretch on the streets, we were on to the Greenbelt. The birds were chirping and the churning, near-flood-stage river was amazing. The air smelled so crisp and clean—it was a better wake-up than a triple latte and the Boyfriend's damn rooster alarm clock. Perhaps the best part was that the Boyfriend slowed down and rode with me. By 8 o'clock yesterday, we had exercised, enjoyed the outdoors, and spent a relaxing half hour or so chatting about the river, the general demeanor of cyclists (much friendlier in the morning, by the way), and how out of shape I am.

It was a perfect morning—one of those mornings that reaffirms that it really is the little things—bike rides, time with the Boyfriend, clean air and rushing rivers—that make us the happiest. It was also one of those mornings that reinforces to me how much I love this place.

Before and After

2011-04-28T07:25:00.006-06:00

I suppose anything that really brings great pleasure also has the potential to cause great disappointment. Such was the case last weekend. And I suppose, ultimately, I was the direct cause of the disappointment, but I'd prefer to blame it on El Niño, global warming, or some other matter largely out of my control. But no, last Friday night I didn't watch the 10 o'clock news and didn't know it might freeze. I left my beautiful tomato plants outside (in the cold house, mind you!) and am solely responsible for their demise.

When I woke up Saturday morning, I immediately looked outside because it was supposed to be a sunny day and I couldn't wait to see blue skies. Well, along with those beautiful blue skies I saw a completely frosted white lawn. I ran into the office to look at the thermometer—25 degrees. I went outside and opened up the cold house. From a distance, you wouldn't have known, but up close I could see the little frost crystals. Then I touched a leaf. Completely frozen. I brought them inside even though I knew it was too late. It was hard to make myself bring them in, because I knew as soon as they thawed they would look like beautiful baby tomato plants no more.

Sure enough, the warmth of the house thawed them almost immediately and they fell all over themselves—limp, wet, mushy, hardly recognizable versions of their former selves. It hit me hard this year because I had really worked to get good tomato starts this year—better soil, bigger containers, even a dose of fish emulsion. Oh well, so it goes. I started new seeds the same day with the realization that we might have to just buy plants if we actually want to harvest any tomatoes this year. But I'm not willing to give up on the seeds just yet. Judging by the cold, wet spring we're having (yes, there is a chance of snow tomorrow), it might be mid-June before I can plant them anyway!

Time

2011-04-18T20:54:00.001-06:00

I think it's interesting the different ways we track time depending on what's going on in our lives. I've been thinking about this as I'm nearing the end of a bottle of dish soap I have in the bathroom that I use to clean some medical supplies. I remember when I first got home from the hospital and realized I would need some dish soap in the bathroom. First I just borrowed it from the kitchen. How long would I really be needing it anyway? I remember it was an almost-brand-new bottle. After I realized I was stranding the Boyfriend mid-dishwashing with no soap, I bought a new bottle for the kitchen and kept the almost-brand-new bottle in the bathroom.

And now as I'm approaching the last few drops in that original bottle, I can't believe I've almost used the whole thing, drop by tiny drop. Part of me is dreading having to replace the bottle. It feels like a tangible admittance that things aren't normal yet. Part of me is hopeful. Every time I tip over that bottle for another drop or two I'm reminded of an hour glass. When that last drop runs out, I'm half expecting something miraculous to happen, as if the universe will take it as a sign that I'm ready to move on. The practical person in me knows that when I finally squeeze out the last bit of soap that is more soap bubble than soap drop, the only response will be me cursing the fact that I forgot to put dish soap on the list.

If it's not dish soap it's vitamin B6 pills and boxes of catheters. I finished my 100th B6 pill this morning, and so far, no response from the universe. That could be a good thing, because I wasn't quite sure how the universe would respond to me taking 10,000% (literally) of my daily value of vitamin B6 for 50 days in a row. I thought I would turn into some sort of B6 mutant, but so far so good. And by that I mean no more mutant than usual.

As far as the catheters go, I've gone full circle. I remember the first time the Boyfriend went to get some for me because I wasn't feeling good enough to go myself. I thought for sure the dozen or so they sent me home from the hospital with would be all I'd need. I couldn't believe it when he got me 50. There was no way I'd need 50. Now I'm happy to stockpile as many as I can afford for two reasons: 1) in case of impending nuclear disaster, the Boyfriend thinks I should have some on hand and 2) the fewer trips I have to make to the medical supply store the better. But that's a story for a whole different post.

And now I'm off to open my new bottle of B6 vitamins . . . bring it on, I even bought an extra.

Spring, at least officially

2011-04-12T19:07:00.008-06:00

Spring blew in with a fury, and with the exception of a few nice days, it has remained rather furious. The standard for "nice" days seems to be lowering by the week. On the first day of spring, our fence blew down during a ridiculous windstorm. That's the kind of spring it's been so far. In any case, it's nice that it's officially spring if for nothing else than my mental health.

Despite the Corvallis-esque weather, we've been doing lots of spring-type things. Besides fixing our broken fence, the Boyfriend has started fixing up the raspberry trellis to replace the shoddy job I did last year. He had to start mowing last weekend and is sticking with the human-powered push mower another year. I even told him I'd buy him a powered mower, but he's tough. (By the way, Boyfriend, the offer is still good should you change your mind . . .) He's trimmed the perennials back, tamed tangled hoses, and lord knows what else. Thank goodness for the Boyfriend.

My main contributions have been planting, of course. I've got all sorts of seeds in the window sills—and some have even sprouted! Outside, I've planted pea, carrot, parsnip, lettuce, onion, beet, and radish seeds. I transplanted our broccoli plants into the cold frame and they're looking really good. I planted strawberry plants in the front hanging baskets. I don't know how they'll do, but I thought it would be fun to try. More and more pots and containers are switching teams from ornamentals to edibles, but I'm sure I'll try to keep a few flowers alive this season. The garlic has come up nicely. It's always so wonderful to look out there during the wet, snowy days of "spring" and see the bright green leaves bursting from the often frost-covered dirt. The raspberries are going gangbusters and have taken up quite a fight against the Boyfriend's attempt to keep them contained in their designated bed.

In bulb news, I'm loving the mini daffodils this year. I'm going to try to find more to plant in the fall. Our first tulips opened today and they're so happy looking. The most exciting news is what the Boyfriend discovered last weekend: our gladiolas, which I was too lazy or too crippled to pull out last fall, are coming up again this spring. They're not supposed to winter over here, but apparently ours did! Yay for lazy gardening working out to our advantage!

Rain, Rain

2011-03-10T17:01:00.001-07:00

Not even the rain can dampen my spirits today. After sitting through a medical test that I couldn't even tell you about without blushing (or laughing/crying like a 3-year-old, depending on my particular mood), I just had a wonderfully good-natured and patient doctor tell me that my nerves are trying to regenerate. I didn't even know that's what the test was supposed to determine, which is probably a good thing. As I was waiting for this test the last 4 weeks, I don't know if I could have handled the possibility of getting the news that my nerves were done recovering whatever they were going to recover. In any case, here are the thoughts running through my head…

Hope is powerful. It's also very personal and very public at the same time. It's hard to extricate your hope from the words and actions of others. And some days that makes me mad. I wish I could put my hope in a little Ziploc bag and carry it around with me and not let anyone else touch it. But people do. Doctors look at you in a certain way, or let a certain tone creep into their voice, and just like that, your precious hope shrivels and hides somewhere. Then, when you can't seem to find your hope because it's mixed in with all the other shit that you throw in your purse and it gets lost in the clutter of your life, someone you love looks at you just the right way, or says just the right thing, or says nothing at all and just holds you in his long, skinny arms and the hope just spills out all over the place.

So today my hope was buoyed by a doctor who said my nerves are trying to stick with me, although their extended vacation might last another year. Lucky them. They might also be a bit different when they do come back. Although I wish I could be strong and stay hopeful all on my own, I'll still take the help. I also know that investing in hope is a little risky. Even as I was riding the hope high on the drive home from the doctor's office, I was already telling myself to be realistic. Even so, I'm willing to put my money on hope. I don't have much to lose.

Other thoughts…I was hooked up to some sort of machine (looked like a plain old computer to me) and thank goodness I couldn't see what was going on, but apparently it involved metal plates, needles, electrodes, and lots of wires. The historian of science in me couldn't help but get a chuckle out of the whole get up. In 100 years will people laugh at my electromyography studies the way we laugh at the mesmerism and animal magnetism practitioners of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries? Obviously I don't think so, but it's easy to find the humor in medical gadgets, and gadgets in general, I suppose.

Throughout the procedure, I was facing away from the doctor and the gadget. I was also (thank goodness), totally unable to feel the procedure (and pity the souls who aren't so lucky). So, my only proof that anything was actually happening was the strange noises the machine made. The thought crossed my mind once or twice that the doctor might simply be sitting behind me, trying to dial in a radio station, getting only static, and popping some popcorn.

It is strange how quickly our realities can change. It happens to all of us at some point: One day you're sitting in a situation you never could have dreamed of a few weeks or months ago. Sometimes those situations are fantastic, sometimes not so much, but thank goodness you have the right to laugh either way.

Things are happening, friends!

2011-02-26T11:57:00.010-07:00

Near-record low temperatures be damned, it's spring at our household. We're getting raised beds ready, planting seeds, and figuring out where to put those seeds when they become plants that require light and warmth.

The Boyfriend finished redoing the cold frames. The paint had almost entirely peeled off during the winter, so he stripped and sanded them, primed them, then gave them a nice fresh coat of paint to match the house. Leave it to the Boyfriend to make sure our garden is color coordinated with our house. I would be so low class if it wasn't for him.

Meanwhile, I built a new home for this year's seedlings. I found out that I have been misleading some of you into thinking I built a greenhouse. That's probably because I called it a greenhouse. But really, it's kind of your fault for believing I could build anything that has "house" in the name. In any case, it's really just a giant cold frame so we can store seedlings outside until they're ready for planting in the garden.

My construction job wasn't perfect--and my engineering work even less so--but it felt good to make something. And by "feel good" I mean an emotional feel good. I couldn't walk for three days after the construction project because my legs were so sore from squatting down on the ground and kneeling on the garage floor. In any case, I hope it at least works for this season. It's held together with hinges (and a few magnets--don't ask), so if it does make it through this season it shouldn't be too bad to store. For a good greenhouse option check out the Cast Iron Idaho blog--a great food and garden blog by my friend Katie.

On January 23, I planted some onions seeds--both for green onions and the new Ailsa Craig onion seeds. I've since transplanted the Ailsa Craig seedlings into a bigger container and transplanted the green onions into the cold frame just to see if they could make it. They actually seem to still be alive, which I'm quite surprised about since it was 9 degrees when I woke up this morning.

While I was planting, the Boyfriend was spreading our very first batch of compost. Most of it was frozen, so it was quite a task, but the bin was full and we needed to start a new batch in the space. It was great to have our own compost and think about how much stuff we didn't throw into the trash and instead turned into nutrients for our garden. Cue the Lion King music--it really is the circle of life.

On February 5, I planted broccoli seeds. I know most people don't do broccoli from seed, but I thought I'd give it a try. So far so good. We've got 9 little broccoli plants that just today I transplanted into bigger pots. We really only need 4 plants if they're anywhere near as productive as our broccoli plants were last year. I think I'll try to put one or two out in the new cold frame/green house (let's just call it the cold house) to see if they can make it outside.

They're here!

2011-01-22T10:37:00.006-07:00

Last night, the Boyfriend and I walked to the mailbox together in a drizzling, cold rain that was supposed to manifest itself as a light shower later that evening. The weathermen were wrong--crazy, I know. He opened up the mailbox and amongst the bills, junk mail, and what have come to be weekly rejection of coverage letters from my insurance, there was a small package. A little bubble mailer stuffed full of happiness. Inside was my 2011 seed order from Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds and all the happiness that comes from having thousands of baby plants in your hands all at once. The reality that only a few of those potential babies will grow up to fulfill their destinies doesn't squelch my happiness one iota.

What makes me even more excited is that seed planting time is already upon us. I've read that I can start my onion seeds anytime now. I am straight up looking for redemption this year when it comes to our onions. Did you hear about our onions last year?

We started them early and transplanted them into the cold frames. They did quite well right from the start. We thinned them out by eating green onions, which were fabulous. But we held off on pulling them all for green onions because we wanted some big, beautiful onion bulbs in the fall. We eat a lot of onion--sorry, we try to carry gum with us at all times. In any case, the onions got their spot in the raised bed all year. They occupied valuable real estate, but we knew it would all be worth it in the fall.

They grew and grew and grew. In fact, they kept growing when the tops were supposed to die and fall over. Still, we just thought we had the biggest onions in the valley. The Boyfriend finally pulled them out one day last fall when it was clear we couldn't wait for them much longer. This mysterious harvest process had been hugely gratifying up to this point. Pulling each garlic bulb out of the ground had been like a religious experience to me. When the Boyfriend harvested our fingerling potatoes, I squealed with delight and showed them to anyone who would feign interest. When he pulled the onions out of the ground, our streak was over. They looked like giant green onions or leeks. They didn't have a bulb at all. I had clearly done something horribly wrong with our onions. Thinking they were defective, we took them straight to the compost pile. I didn't even plan on planting them again this year.

Then, a few weeks ago I was flipping through my 2011 seed catalog and some text jumped out at me: "bunching onion . . . non-bulbing white type." Excuse me? There are non-bulbing onions? I ran out to look at my seed packet from last year. Right there on the back of the packet it said: "Does not form bulbs." I read for a living. Holy crap.

So, for 2011 I will plant and pick green onions from last year's seeds and try again to get those large, homegrown onions we were hoping for last year. I ordered "Ailsa Craig" onion seeds, a "well-known globe-shaped heirloom onion that reaches really huge size--5 lbs is rather common." I'm just shooting for globe-shaped.

Memories of other places

2011-01-12T20:08:00.010-07:00

Last week I finally said goodbye to some old friends. They said nothing in return.

These friends were the dolls and stuffed animals of my childhood. They were the ones who had survived several previous rounds of donations. They had been stashed away in big Rubbermaid containers or placed lovingly on shelves in a room that has been empty for the better part of a decade. I never would have mustered up the gumption to do anything about them if Mom hadn't so thoughtfully dumped them off in our garage during the Great Purge of 2010.

As I pulled each doll or stuffed animal out of its plastic bin, 9 times out of 10 the toy's name popped into my head out of nowhere. I may not be able to remember where I put my cute brown shoes last week (yes, they're still missing), but I remember all the crazy names of those toys. Us only children have to find companionship in the places we can, you know.

The timing was horrible. The Boyfriend and I had just watched the latest Toy Story movie. As I transferred these beautiful toys, one by one, into large garbage bags for donation, I thought of so many wonderful memories. And of course I heard them screaming for help a la Woody and Buzz Lightyear.

The one that particularly struck me was Margaret--a blonde-haired doll with a blue, flowered dress that looked to have come from the Amish book of fashion. She tagged around with Raggedy Ann and Andy but undoubtedly always felt like the odd-man out. In any case, her leg was still in a cast fashioned from athletic tape from her days as a patient during hospital. It was extra hard to say goodbye to her.

A few got to stay--but only a few. I could too easily be one of those people that looks around them one day and says, "but what if I need that newspaper from 1991?" I'm too sentimental. But what I realized with Margaret is that it's the memories that are important.

The last stuffed animal to face the chopping block was Benji. He looked so cute with his fur all disheveled, either from being well-loved or crammed in a box for a decade or both. I couldn't get rid of him, so in some perverse act of love I gave him to the dogs as a new stuffed animal toy. I knew Kira would love the size of him. His little belly would (and does) fit just perfect in her mouth.

I think Benji wishes he would have been donated.

Happy New Year!

2011-01-03T09:29:00.004-07:00

The Boyfriend and I rang in the New Year by staying up until 12:30 a.m., and that was reason enough to celebrate! We chugged a glass of champagne and toasted to the fact that it would be another year before we had to stay up that late again.

The New Year has started off just the way I had hoped--lots of relaxing, eating, and spending time with the Boyfriend and my parents. We ate yums yums, potato salad, and marshmallow-mandarin orange-pineapple "salad"--salad is used here in the midwest sense that it's not a main dish, but you'd probably be better off to eat it for dessert. It's kind of a New Years Day traditional meal, which always makes me laugh because everything about it screams middle of summer to me. But I love it all the same and am happy to indulge.

Speaking of the middle of summer, I thought I'd post a few pics of our harvest from the fall. It is currently 12 degrees F, with a "feels like" temperature of 2. Here's to dreams of sweet corn, cherry tomatoes, and fresh basil . . .

Adios 2010

2010-12-31T18:33:00.002-07:00

I kept waiting for a day—a day where I felt inspired and particularly eloquent. I’ve felt inspired plenty of times, and perhaps even eloquent once or twice, but ever since my surgery I’ve not been able to put the right words together. I haven’t even known what to write about. I tried once or twice, but it felt forced.

I felt like I missed the end of summer and most of those bright, crisp fall days that trick you into thinking winter might not be so bad after all. I watched life go by from my recliner, then through short walks down the driveway and eventually all the way to the mailbox. It wasn’t all bad—not even mostly bad. I was (and am) thankful for so many things—mainly my health and my loved ones.

I watched as the Boyfriend took over the gardening duties (all the duties, for that matter) and delighted in the fact that it truly is our garden. He weeded, watered, and harvested. He wrangled our sunflowers as they threatened to collapse under their own floppy weight and take the corn down with them. He waged an all-out war against our one zucchini plant, and depending on the day, the victor is still up for debate. As a side note, thank goodness the dogs trampled that second zucchini plant early in the season. Still, I was sad to miss the most fruitful time of the year in the garden. I did my best to help by making more zucchini dishes than I’d care to admit. (If you ever need some recipes for zucchini . . . ) I never got a year-end picture of the garden, but I did snap a few of our fall harvest. Perhaps I’ll post those in the dreary days of January when sweet corn seems like it must grow in a distant fantasy world.

But the thing I’ve struggled to write about most is the incredible love and support I’ve felt in these last few months. The outpouring of kindness from friends and family has been indescribable. When other people have fallen on hard times, I’ve always struggled to find the right thing to say and felt awkward in my ultimate decision. But I realized this fall that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what you say or how you say it—it only matters that you do. Knowing people are behind you, thinking about you, and sending positive thoughts your way is all that matters.

So here’s to a great 2011. I’m starting to realize that years aren’t defined by the presence or absence of challenges and hard times, but the way you choose to handle them. Life inevitably brings challenges, but those challenges can make life richer and deeper than you ever knew. Wishing you and yours the best in the upcoming year!

Here's to you, Grandma Zada

2010-08-24T11:18:00.007-06:00

Last night I raised a glass to Grandma Zada. Actually, I raised a bottle--a bottle of MGD, of course. There was a Mirror Pond in the fridge, but it just didn't seem right. So I ran to the store while the Boyfriend baked us some wonderful zucchini slices and wandered around the "domestic" section until I found those familiar looking bottles. I planned to drink my beer out on the patio, where she would have enjoyed it most, but instead we found ourselves rushed for time. We got to go visit our good friends' new baby last night. So instead, the Boyfriend and I made a toast in the kitchen. Sure, Grandma didn't love to cook, but I think she would have loved that we were cooking with vegetables from our own garden.

I wish Grandma could have seen our garden and our house, but I feel like she's really a part of it. There is no other explanation for my love of the garden except for Grandma. I think of her every time my hands are in the dirt, and I especially think of her every time I manage to grow a few pretty flowers. Each gladiola that I cut this summer made me think of her and our magnificent floral arrangements I made when I visited her and Grandpa in Nebraska. She had the most beautiful flowers. I'd love to show her our corn and ask her what she did to make those raspberries out by the alley so sweet and wonderful and abundant.

Here's to you, Grandma. Your legacy is in everything we've done to turn this space into our place, and in every summer evening we enjoy on our patio. Your granddaughters were thinking of you yesterday, especially about that time when beer thirty was rolling around . . .

What the carrots are saying

2010-08-20T11:38:00.008-06:00

I've often heard about people who see Jesus in their food--in their Cheetos or pancakes or chicken nuggets--and previously these accounts had inspired nothing more than bewildered amusement and maybe a chuckle. But lately, I've been finding myself a tad bit jealous. They get Jesus, and I get this . . .

a hot-dog-shaped carrot.

This strange little guy (which is actually making me a bit hungry at the moment) came straight out of a bag of baby carrots from the store. So imagine my surprise when I dug this out of the ground this week . . .

I don't know what image you see in this carrot, but I see fat legs in tight pants.

What are the carrots trying to tell me? We have been eating a lot of hot dogs lately--the real kind, not the carrot impostors--so perhaps they're telling me that eating hot dogs makes you look fat in your stretchy pants and I should stick to carrots instead. Ugh, why couldn't I have just seen Jesus on one of my zucchini instead?

Monday Update 8.16.10

2010-08-17T08:03:00.007-06:00

The garden is looking quite good, if I do say so myself. We're enjoying huge bouquets of basil that are spinning and whirring themselves into wonderful pesto. I think we have enough green (well, purple) beans to harvest and have a small side dish. I know we have carrots that need to be eaten, but I've been neglecting them ever since we covered the garden with mulch and I don't see their orange tops poking out of the soil anymore.

Our first giant sunflower finally opened this past weekend. They were supposed to grow 10-feet-tall and I'd say they're about there. This particular variety, Arikara, is a North America native and is supposed to be good for its edible seeds. I love seeing that big happy flower out there high above our fence.

The cucumber that I direct seeded in the garden extremely late after my transplants officially died has started producing cute little cucumbers and is growing quite well. Speaking of growing quite well, I haven't been poking around in the garden as much as usual because our sprinklers have been coming on more often and I haven't had to water as much lately. So the Boyfriend came in Sunday and asked if I had seen our watermelon. I told him we didn't plant watermelon, at which point he took me outside to see it. The "watermelon" he was referring to was a giant zucchini. It might not have actually been as big and round as a watermelon, but it was definitely one of those giants that had somehow evaded us while it beefed up. It'll be perfect for zucchini patties . . . I can taste them already . . .

The corn is looking great! Most of the stalks have a couple of little ears on them and they're growing fast. I honestly can't believe our corn seems to be working out. I'm hoping we get between 15 and 20 ears. The Boyfriend asked if we were going to have people over and share our corn of if we would freeze some. How nice of him. The thought of sharing hadn't crossed my mind . . . not this year anyway! If it's as juicy and sweet as the ears of corn I remember from my great grandpa's garden in Nebraska when I was little, there will be no sharing. Maybe next year . . .

The Siletz tomato is finally pumping out some red tomatoes. They're such a nice smaller size. They don't crack and I haven't had a bad looking fruit yet. I wish some of our other tomatoes were producing, but I'm happy the Siletz in the container has been a success.

And finally, the endless summer of broccoli continues . . .

Places and thermometers

2010-08-05T08:53:00.007-06:00

About six weeks ago, the Boyfriend and I were in Tennessee. Although the occasion was a sad one, it was also, as the Boyfriend has said, a celebration of a great man's life. It was a time to embrace family and watch the world go by in one of the most beautiful settings I've ever seen. This is one of the Boyfriend's "places"--a place that holds so many memories that my mind struggled to keep up with the beautiful pictures he painted for me with the enthusiasm of the 10-year-old who explored this place so many years ago. I couldn't tell if it felt like a lifetime ago or a year ago, but he showed me this place like he had just been there in his childhood the week before.

The house we stayed in was a newer addition, an addition his grandfather built with his own hands just to give his grandchildren the type of wonderful memories the Boyfriend was describing to me. Behind the house was now a sloped field of green grass, but as we walked through it I could almost taste the homegrown vegetables the Boyfriend described to me. Knowing that he walked through rows of his grandmother's home garden made me understand his tendency to wander into our tiny garden each evening to see how everything can change in a single day. He comes from a family that knows what it's like to put down roots and get to know a place.

The Boyfriend's memories were vivid and detailed--the morning glories, the lightning bugs, and his grandmother's decorative peacock feathers brought his stories to life. This was where he spent some of his favorite summers as a child, and it made me think of Ogallala and my own family. Especially when we went into the kitchen one day and noticed the thermometers.

It might seem like a silly thing, but those thermometers--there were at least three hanging in the kitchen--rushed me back to my summers in Ogallala with my own grandparents. I loved to pull the bedroom curtains back and look outside at that thermometer. This was the BWC era: the before-weather-channel era. I don't remember why I looked at that thermometer so much, but I imagine it was to check the temperature before we went golfing, or cutting flowers in the back yard, or out on the patio for beer thirty. Beer thirty was my favorite part of the day because everyone sat outside and just talked--much like our evenings in Tennessee. I played in the grass and drank pop and we ate Cracker Barrel cheese. Good friends showed up unannounced and pulled up a chair. Life was slow, friendly, and in the moment. No one wanted to be, or thought about being, anywhere else. No one was watching reality TV, or any TV for that matter.

I realized these thermometers symbolized a different era for me. A time when people were at least connected enough to their place that they looked outside to see what the temperature was, rather than firing up the laptop or turning on the TV. I liked that. When we got back from Tennessee, we went on a mission to find a thermometer. I wanted one like those that I saw in the house in Tennessee--one that had the phone number for a local business on it or one that had blue jays and cardinals on it--but I settled for one of the few we found and it's just fine. Plain, low-tech, cheap, and easy to read.

I had one request--that I be able to see it from my office. So the Boyfriend mounted it on the east side of the house knowing full well that it would receive sunlight 8 hours of the day. Even though it's approximately 120 degrees from 9:30 to 4:00, I still love it. I look at it every morning and every night before I open up the house. I might mount it in a different spot to make it more usable other hours of the day, but it has been one of my favorite additions to our place this year.

Monday Update 8.2.10

2010-08-02T12:35:00.004-06:00

At the risk of giving people the false expectation that I may post my Monday Update every Monday, rather than every other, I still had to post today because at long last our first tomato is turning red. I was about to start investigating recipes for green tomatoes since the lycopene in our garden appeared to be on strike. But yesterday I finally noticed the light yellow hue that promised me garden-fresh tomatoes were finally in my future.

I also wanted to update with this picture because I couldn't believe looking back at last week's update how much our sunflowers have grown. They've reached the top of the fence, which makes it look like they must have grown almost a foot in the last week. The earwigs are still quite content, nestled in the top every morning. I tried to kill some yesterday, but it didn't go so well. They were too quick for me to grab and get them in the can of soapy water before they jumped for dear life off my trowel. I'm thinking tweezers might be my next approach. Maybe I'll actually get brave enough to use my hands, but cut me some slack. Earwigs are deeeesgusting!

I finally pulled out the leaning tower of pea plants on Saturday. The carrots seem to be enjoying their new-found head room. In place of the peas, I transplanted one of the yellow pear tomatoes that was in the container on the deck with another plant. They were crowded and the Boyfriend had the good suggestion to let them part ways and give it a go on their own. Fulfill your destinies little buddies!

We did harvest our first zucchini this week and more are on the way. I killed more squash bug eggs this weekend and attempted to kill one adult, but trying to stab him through his middle with kitchen shears didn't seem to be very effective (or humane, but that's clearly not my primary concern!). The plants still look good so I think we're staying on top of them. Too bad the earwigs don't eat the squash bugs and earn their room and board!

I just noticed the beginnings of tassels on our corn this weekend, at least I assume that's what it is. I'm not brave enough to let myself think of the absolutely unbeatable and unmistakable taste of homegrown sweet corn just yet, but I think we're getting one step closer!

Monday Update 7.26.10

2010-07-27T08:44:00.007-06:00

For as stinky as that fish emulsion is, I sure think it's worked wonders on our corn. The corn and some other veggies are going to get another dose tonight, but since the first dose two weeks ago I think our corn has really improved. We're getting a lot of growth on everything, except our peppers, but not a lot of production yet (except on our peppers--they're determined to be the world's smallest pepper bearing plants, I think). The beans finally have some baby beans on them, and after eating fresh beans from the Master Gardener's garden, I couldn't be more ready to have some of our own! We've got a couple of good looking zucchini in the back bed. The Boyfriend and I murdered the squash bug eggs this week and the plant still looks very healthy. As you can see, the sunflowers are also really taking off. As far as I can tell, they're currently serving as high-rise condos for an impressive number of earwigs. Ew.

The peas have finally realized I am not going to extend their trellis and are toppling over. They're actually still producing, but some of the plants are starting to yellow and I can't imagine they'll last much more than a couple weeks. We've harvested a bunch of the muscade carrots, but the Danver's half longs don't seem to be maturing much. I planted more lettuce and carrot seeds last week, but I'm not sure if it's too hot for them to germinate outside. The beans have come up in the front raised bed where we pulled the garlic out, so hopefully we'll be getting a nice, spaced-out bean harvest.

The basil started putting up flowers this past week, so the Boyfriend pinched those off and we should finally get to start harvesting the long awaited basil. The potatoes are still out of control, but seem to have slowed their growth finally. It's been consistently hot now, so I finally mulched with this week's yard clippings.

I've really enjoyed the gladiolas the last couple of weeks. Although I swore I wouldn't dig these bulbs up and save them for next spring, there have been a couple gorgeous flowers that I might just have to make an exception for. Now if I can just remember which plant they came from . . . One of the replacement hydrangeas Erik got us is also in full bloom and looks gorgeous. I added soil acidifier so we would get beautiful vibrant blue blooms, but I quite like the color we ended up with. The survivor hydrangae is starting to bloom as well.

I trimmed up our garlic last night after it dried outside for three weeks. They look beautiful. We ended up with a couple scraggly little ones, but all the rest look great. The hardnecks definitely came out the best. We've got them all hanging in a mesh bag in the pantry ready for use. I'll save the best looking one to plant in the fall and then maybe try another variety as well.

Garlic: A Love Story

2010-07-15T09:36:00.008-06:00

I have fallen in love with an Allium. That's right, an Allium. Allium is a genus of plant that is basically the onion family--onions, shallots, leeks, chives, and garlic. When I planted our garlic bulbs on September 5, I had no clue what to do with them. So I did nothing. I didn't mulch over them in the winter like I was supposed to. I think I did throw some compost around them in the spring, which apparently was a good move but it only happened because I had some extra from another bed. In any case, I knew nothing about garlic. I planted two different kinds: Chesnok Red (a hardneck) and Early Italian Purple Grape (a softneck). I thought the garlic would be ready for harvest in the early spring, but I was (shockingly) wrong on that guess. Then I thought it might be ready in June. I did some poking around in books and online and mine just didn't seem ready. I dug down to see the bulbs and they were small and green onion-like. So I left them alone. They looked scraggly, dead, and completely fed up with my abuse.

On July 5th I was lying in bed and thinking about my garlic. (Of course I was, doesn't everyone?) I decided the next day was the day. In the morning when I took the dogs out, I plucked out one of the softnecks and much to my surprise it looked like garlic. I don't know when I will cease to be amazed by plants growing and doing what they've evolved to do, but clearly it's not yet. I pulled the next one out by the leaves, but the stalk broke away from the bulb, which I could see firmly lodged in the dirt below. I decided I'd wait until that evening and harvest them. I announced my plan to the Boyfriend and he was equally excited for the garlic harvest.

We went out to the garden in the evening for the big event. Much to my surprise, the lone bulb that had broken away from the stalk was gone. I hope one of the neighbor cats ate it and hated it and has learned its lesson. In any case, with the exception of that one loss, we harvested all the other bulbs by digging underneath them and prying them out--five softnecks and eight hardnecks.

As long as I live, I will never forget that evening in our garden. One by one we lifted those pungent bulbs out of the ground and each time I was amazed that another legitimate garlic bulb emerged from our garden. The air smelled so good that the Boyfriend kept taking deep breaths and letting out the satisfied sigh that usually accompanies dinner preparation activities at our household. As the bulbs started stacking up on the grass, I realized we probably had a 6- to 9-month supply of garlic here. We were putting away food that would become a part of so many of our meals over the coming months.

I had my Bible outside with me. Yes, The Vegetable Gardener's Bible. That's actually what it's called. I love this book for two reasons: it has answers to everything garden-related--including individual write-ups about every vegetable and herb--and because author Edward C. Smith appears on the glossy cover and reminds me of Ducky from NCIS every time I see him. In any case, the book is wonderful. It answers questions I didn't even know I had. When my tomato plants were purple this spring I thought it was odd but didn't give it any more thought. Then one night I was mindlessly flipping through the Bible and saw that purple tomatoes need phosphorus. I'm happy to report I no longer have purple tomatoes.

So anyway, back to the garlic. I had my Bible outside with me to show me how to take care of these bulbs now that I had unearthed them. Following directions carefully (yay me!), I peeled back the first two leaves that created the outer layers of the garlic bulb. As the second layer came off, I think the angels sang. What appeared was a sparkling white and absolutely gorgeous garlic bulb. I repeated this process 14 more times. The angels sang each time.

In the meantime, the Boyfriend seemed less concerned with the angels and more excited to build something. He built our garlic a safehouse. Since some thieving creature had already walked away with one of our precious bulbs, we weren't going to take any chances. These bright white beauties had to stay outside to dry out for the next 2 to 3 weeks, so the Boyfriend built a little garlic cage to keep them safe. It is no exaggeration to say we have the most-loved garlic on the planet at this point.

Will harvesting garlic always be this exciting? Probably not. But I think it will always make me happy, and I know I will never forget our first garlic harvest. Both of us working away in the garden, the air saturated with that delicious garlic aroma, and feeling completely connected to this place. As it turns out, garlic becomes uniquely adapted to its microclimate over time. After you buy your first garlic bulbs at the nursery, each year you should save some of your own harvest to plant for the next season. Your garlic will gradually become particularly suited to its place. I think garlic might just be my vegetable soul mate.

Monday Update 7.12.10

2010-07-12T19:06:00.011-06:00

So much has been happening around the garden, and we're finally seeing (and eating) some of the fruits (mostly vegetables) of our labor. In the last week or so, we harvested our first carrots, which looked beautiful when they came out of the ground. They were sticking out of the soil a bit, which is how I noticed they were big and beautiful. (Apparently the Boyfriend knew about these orange beauties and was keeping them a secret.) In any case, my enthusiasm dropped significantly when I cut into these carrots and realized they were a brilliant shade of neon green in the middle. Apparently we let them grow a little too long and it sounds like they got exposed to too much sunlight. I promptly went out and picked some smaller ones and they looked (and tasted) great. We made another stirfry with more broccoli and our carrots. Super yummy, but can't wait until we can add our peppers and basil to the mix!

We also pulled up our one red potato plant. We knew it was too early, but it was taking a turn for the worse and our other potatoes (all fingerlings) looked great, so we thought we should rip out the one plant that didn't look so good. I was like a 4-year-old at Christmas. Obvious I had never harvested potatoes before. The Boyfriend pulled the whole plant out, and a few tiny white orbs were attached to the roots. I thought that was it. But then the Boyfriend loosened the dirt and as I dug around in the ground my hand came upon some bigger potatoes and then finally some real-looking potatoes! It was like digging for treasure. Each time my fingers grasped around a tiny tuber, I pulled it out and held it up in the air like I had unearthed the most magnificent thing you had ever seen. It was so incredibly cool. I let the potatoes dry out a bit then put them in a paper bag to cure. Some are too small to use and others seem to have been pierced or otherwise damaged, but I think we'll have a few we can actually use. It makes me so excited for the next plants!

The Siletz tomato is going crazy. There are dozens of little tomatoes on it and one bigger one. We have a couple baby yellow pear tomatoes as well. The Cuor di Bue is doing well, but no signs of tomatoes yet. The gladiolas finally opened up last week and we've had two dark pink ones that I've loved having in the kitchen.

Our peas have gone absolutely crazy. They're higher than the fence now and we've been picking dozens at a time. Our harvest today included a bunch of peas, a few carrots, and a couple radishes. You might also notice the giant empty spot where our garlic once lived. We finally harvested our garlic last week, but more about that in another post. In the vacated space, we planted a few pepper plants from the store (we've never had good luck with bell peppers, so we tried a couple plants) and some more bean seeds.

The back bed looks good. I think the corn is growing and the sunflowers are definitely getting tall. Yesterday I put some fish emulsion on the corn (and other veggies) so hopefully that will give it the boost it needs. Our raspberries, despite some sick looking leaves, are still forming baby berries and I finally ate one or two the other day. This evening we dug out the strawberries and the Boyfriend took off the bottom of the little box they were in. I had completely forgotten that little raised bed had a bottom. (It was the one I had planted a square foot garden in at the Mini last spring!) If they survived the uprooting and replanting, I think they'll be a lot happier and more productive.

Monday Update 6.28.10

2010-06-28T14:31:00.012-06:00

The weather is heating up (mid-90s today!) and we're eating some new things out of the garden. Last week, the Boyfriend harvested a nice large bowl full of broccoli and made us a delicious stirfry, which also included fresh green onions from the garden. The broccoli was bright green and so fresh. We were a little late picking some of it since we had an unexpected trip out of town, but we still had a lot to enjoy. We've got lots more coming on as well. I also harvested some sugar snap peas this weekend for the first time. I only got a few, but already this morning there seemed to be many more that are almost ready.

The Siletz tomato continues to outgrow the rest. It already seems bigger than the one I grew last year. We've got a little baby green tomato in there and lots of flowers. Speaking of flowers, I noticed yesterday that one of the gladiolas is showing signs of a flower, which is super exciting. I've never grown gladiolas, so it's fun to see them grow and watch the changes.

The potatoes have completely overtaken their half of the raised bed and seem to be about ready to flower. The zucchinis have big beautiful flowers on them and seem to be doing really well. I feel like the corn isn't growing much, but it's still alive, so that's a win for us. The raspberries have finally started to reach the top wire of the trellis, which signifies nothing except I like being able to tell that they're growing! Our strawberries are not producing anything but little deformed nubbins, but the Boyfriend's strawberries at the Townhouse are still going crazy.

Monday Update 6.15.10

2010-06-15T11:44:00.013-06:00

Some perceptive folks out there might realize this is not Monday. However, the Boyfriend and I took yesterday off, so this is my Monday, which makes my Monday Update completely legit. On with it then . . .

This weekend the weather finally warmed up into the 80s, which seems to have really helped the garden. The tomatoes are doing really well, particularly the Siletz, but I think all of them have some flowers on them. I'm so happy the Siletz made it. It was the only seed that came up, so I didn't have a second shot at that one this year. Yay for survivors.

I have given up trying to understand what is going on with the garlic, but this week the scapes appeared. They're not as curly as the ones I've seen pictures of, but they're unmistakable all the same. I don't know if I'll have enough to cook with, but I'm sure I'll give it a shot. They're supposed to make a fabulous pesto and given the small (but growing!) condition of the basil, we could use some fresh pesto right now! In the front raised bed, the broccoli continues its Jurassic-Park-like growth. The leaves are massive, and even better, one of the plants is developing a really nice, big head of florets. We should be eating some fresh broccoli in no time!

In the back raised bed, the peas finally flowered this week and are quickly outgrowing their trellis. I tried to tame them with some twine yesterday. The Boyfriend thinks it really made the garden look classy! We also still have a lot of lettuce to eat before it bolts. We harvested two nice Little Gem romaine heads last night for a fantastic salad. We also ate our spinach harvest--which was all of about 15 leaves--this week. The carrots have grown a lot, but not enough to constitute real carrots yet, as I learned this week when I picked a tiny, flimsy, orange-ish root that slightly resembled a carrot. Oops. I guess this gardening thing takes patience. Ugh!

In the back bed along the fence, things are still growing, but the new seeds haven't come up yet. The surface of the soil seems so hard that I'm wondering if they aren't able to break through. That being said, I circled our two zucchini plants with radishes this past week and the radishes came up quite quickly. So here's to hoping some more melons, beans, sunflowers, and nasturtiums are still on their way! I'm hoping the radishes will keep the squash bugs away. The zucchini are doing well. The one I was sure the dogs killed even has a baby zucchini on it!

In the side raised bed, the warm weather has helped the basil growth. I direct sowed a few more basil seeds, because we really can't have too much basil, and they came up as well. This week we also tried to cover our potatoes a bit more, but we ran out of room to add any additional dirt. I hope we were able to hill them enough.

We have a few ripening yet deformed strawberries, but I've been content munching on berries from the Townhouse in the meantime. We also have what looks to be the beginning of some raspberries, which I'm pretty excited about.

Pansy killing day!

2010-06-09T10:15:00.004-06:00

Yesterday was the much-awaited day--pansy killing day! Wait, you might ask--wasn't I just recently excited for pansy planting day? Yes, of course, but I've moved on. Planting pansies--or better yet, watching last fall's pansies come up in the spring--is a much-anticipated event in late winter that assures us all that spring is coming. Those little pansies give us an excuse to get our hands in the dirt, or, shame on me, clean out the flower pots from last fall that might have been neglected when football season came around. In any case, I look forward to planting pansies every year.

But as the weather starts to warm . . . wait, that hasn't happened yet . . . um, as June rolls around, the pansies usually start to outgrow their little pots and start shooting toward the sky. They start looking lanky and weed-like and much less desirable than all the warm-weather flowers that have since appeared in the stores and nurseries. This year, my pansies took longer than usual to make the transition from cute little pansy to awkward teenager pansy. In fact, they looked great up until about a week ago (some would debate this point, but more about that later). As I walked past the aisles of beautiful flowers at Edwards a couple weekends ago with Mom, I think I was actually willing my pansies to die faster. This past weekend I decided it was time. Either that or I was so sick of the rain that I decided I had to do some planting to stay sane. So the Boyfriend and I headed to Edwards on a dreary, gray, this-is-why-people-hate-Sundays type of day and wandered around the humid, warm, colorful greenhouses. We both picked out some plants--some old standards and some new experiments. Last night, after taking sadistic pleasure in yanking out those lanky pansies, I got the new blooms planted in our "Downtown" planter. (The Boyfriend says it looks like one of the giant planters they have downtown. Aren't we fancy?! Yeah, it was a gift.)

So I have a few side notes/confessions that seem only right to put forth. First, some members of our household have expressed amusement at pulling out living plants just to spend money on new plants. Since the dogs can't talk, I'll let you figure out who this nonconformist is for yourself. Got it? Ok. Well I would just like to state for the record that he also performed this coming-of-summer ritual each year at the townhouse. Enough said. Second, I still have multiple pots full of pansies. Some just look too good to pull out, but I think the biggest reason I didn't pull them out at the same time is because I love buying flowers. We only have so many pots, which means each year I don't get to buy flowers all that often. I'm spacing it out. I'm trying to find as many excuses to go buy flowers as possible. If I did it all in one day, what fun would that be? I see it like this . . . it is like going to the ice cream shop (and who can't relate to the excitement and happiness that brings?). Your choice is to either buy that monster 25-scoop ice cream sundae you see on a Food Network eating challenge show and go once a year, or you can visit any leisurely afternoon you'd like on multiple occasions and savor one or two sweet, creamy, colorful scoops. Yeah, I'll take that.

Monday Update 6.7.10

2010-06-07T07:30:00.014-06:00

Today's post is the first in a series (oooo, ahhh!) of Monday updates about the garden. I'm starting this Monday with the hope that the weather is soon going to turn nice and warm and things are going to start growing gangbusters!

The tomatoes have really turned around and are doing quite well. All my tomatoes came from seed this year. They spent a little too much time in small containers in bad soil, so they looked pretty bad there for a while. They turned very purple, which I read means they need phosphorus. After a transplanting and a dose of plant food, they seem to be doing really well. I did most of my tomatoes this year in containers, but stuck a couple in the raised bed where the lettuce will undoubtedly be going to seed someday when it turns warm.

In the front raised bed, the garlic are starting to look pretty scraggly, which I'm hoping means the end is near. The Boyfriend's broccoli are huge and have a couple small heads on them. The spinach in between the garlic finally started growing and the onions are doing well. The poor peppers are just hanging out. I don't think they've grown at all since I planted them weeks ago. It's just been so cool and cloudy.

In the back raised bed, the peas have really taken off. They've grown a lot in the last week, but no flowers yet. In front of the peas (and to the side) are carrots, which are doing really well. On the second trellis my cucumbers died. I put some seeds in but they haven't come up yet. We might have to admit defeat and go buy a couple plants, but I'm going to give them a little longer. Our lettuce is still doing amazing in this cool, wet weather. We even harvested a head of Little Gem romaine-type lettuce this weekend and have a couple more ready. We're really enjoying all the fresh lettuce.

In the new bed along the fence, all sorts of stuff is happening! Everything is pretty small, so the picture is hard to see. But in the front of the picture is a row of corn, then a row of bush beans, then another row of corn. In the middle are a couple zucchini plants that we bought. Apollo and Kira tried to take one out, but it's miraculously hanging in there. Behind the zucchini plants I planted three melon seeds, and I just noticed this morning that one came up. Along the rock wall I planted some nasturtium seeds to bring us some pollinators, and along the fence we have sunflowers coming up. So exciting to have this giant new bed this year!

The new raised bed along the fence has basil (still very little) and two kinds of potatoes. The potatoes are really going crazy! Along the west side of the house we have our "berry patch." Sorry for the blurry photo. We've got strawberries in the square bed that came from the Boyfriend's strawberries up at the townhouse. We have two different kinds of strawberries in the strawberry pot. In the larger rectangular bed are our raspberries. I planted one last year then Erik gave us more this spring, so we've got all kinds in there. I built the trellis myself and successfully used the Boyfriend's power drill without breaking any bits--I was quite proud.

So everything really is coming along. I think if the sun decides to come out we might be on our way to having a pretty decent first attempt garden this year. If nothing else, it's sure fun to watch and we got a few salads out of it!

I'm sorry, did I say spring had sprung?

2010-06-03T08:10:00.006-06:00

We have had such a wet, cool spring here in Boise. The highlight was without a doubt May 22, which just happened to be the date of our first BBQ of the year. This is what I get for trying to plan a BBQ 4 weeks in advance. But we only got in one BBQ last year and I really wanted to have people over before the Woodlands had baby numero dos. The morning was overcast but the rain held out. In the early afternoon the sky opened up as if Noah had just completed the ark. The temperature dropped and by 6 o'clock it was snowing. Yes, snowing. On May 22. The day set records for 1) the lowest high temperature and 2) the daily maximum rainfall. The record reported by the National Weather Service was 1.41 inches, which smashes the old, long-standing record of 0.57 inches set in 1965. Excuse me, but 1.41 inches is western Oregon rain, not Boise rain. Never ones to admit defeat, we held RainFest 2010 indoors and the Boyfriend valiantly BBQed our burgers outside. We had a great time, but the next BBQ will be planned for July or August and only far enough in advance that the 7-day forecast can still be consulted.

Although the weather has been cool, all the rain has really made the garden look great. The big news is that we've finished the 2010 garden expansion and it looks fabulous. I got the third raised bed in early in the spring, which was the only addition we really planned for this year. Then, prompted by a small flood in the back corner of our yard--compliments of our neighbor--we had to raise up the level of the soil behind the garden. The Boyfriend engineered a fantastic and structurally sound wall (my attempt had been to throw wet mud at the fence while cussing at the damn yippy dog) that holds a decent amount of new dirt and resulted in a large open garden bed. It gave us the space to do a few things we had no hope of doing in the existing raised beds. We planted melons, zucchini, beans, sunflowers, and corn. We've never grown any of these things and I can't wait to see how they turn out. The next order of business will be keeping the dogs out of the bed, which we inconveniently placed right in the path of their chihuahua chasing track. Ugh.

So, since my last post, we have actually been eating out of our garden. Our lettuce has done so well in this wet, cool spring, and we've had numerous salads from our own garden. It's so nice to wonder what to have with a meal only to realize we can go out and pick a salad anytime we want. Last night we had our first green onions out of the garden, which were quite beautiful if I do say so myself! That's all we've had so far, but hopefully peas and carrots won't be too far behind! The corn and sunflowers sprouted two days ago, which was probably the highlight of this week. The rain has continued to fall, but hopefully with the coming of June we've left the snow and indoor BBQs behind!

Springtime at Big Red

2010-04-20T08:07:00.009-06:00

After a week that people insisted on calling Spring Break--although the Boyfriend and I saw neither spring nor break--the long-awaited season finally arrived. Bulbs are blooming, seeds are sprouting, and plants that have been threatening to take over the Boyfriend's office are even getting moved outside.

One of our first tasks was figuring out the world of lawn care. The homeowners' association still took care of our yard last year, so this is a new adventure for us. We bought a lawnmower and trimmer a couple weeks ago and the Boyfriend seems to enjoy mowing the lawn. We got a reel mower--no power attached to that bad boy except the Boyfriend's biking-enhanced quads. I love the whirring it makes as he pushes it along in nice straight lines in the backyard. I put down lawn food in the backyard in what turned out to be a comical undertaking I'm thankful no one witnessed. I was worried the lawn food wouldn't cover the whole backyard. Once I figured out the spreader shoots the food further the faster you push it, I started frantically running around with the spreader trying to make sure I got the whole yard. Then I still had extra (which I shouldn't have), so I just ran around in circles.

The garden is really coming along. We harvested lettuce about 10 days ago and it needs to be harvest again. The peas are up, the garlic is tall, a new succession of lettuce has sprouted, carrots have sprouted, and the Boyfriend planted some broccoli. Even the lackluster spinach and onions from seed are hanging in there.

Mom and I bought some flowers at fuchsia Saturday last weekend, although neither of us got fuchsias. They did great at the Mini, but I don't really have a nice shady place for them here. But we got geraniums and vines and trailing little petunias. I've got them in hanging pots and haven't quite committed to hanging them up yet, since I know the frost probably hasn't left us for good.

The front of the house looks beautiful. The Boyfriend has spent portions of about five weekends spreading fresh bark in all our beds. The tulips are booming, along with the crocus, some mini daffodils, and I think some regular daffodils, although I've yet to make a final call on those mystery bulbs yet. Our clematis is shooting upwards and we even bought it a new trellis this weekend. The strawberry and raspberry plants are green and full and seem to be loving their "berry patch" portion of the backyard.

Last weekend I looked out my office window and I saw the Boyfriend mowing the lawn in his cowboy hat. I realized this place has really become our home and there is no place else I'd rather be.

Tulips and "Tulip"

2010-03-25T08:28:00.004-06:00

I shouldn't really be writing right now. Work is piling up on both sides of my small desk. Books have spilled over onto the floor since the dining room chair I was using to hold them had to be returned to its proper place in the dining room. Now when I put my giant history textbooks down they echo with a resounding thud throughout the house, sometimes prompting the Boyfriend to come check on me to make sure the books haven't won. That being said, some days you just know you have to write. Or I do, anyway. I get this tightness in my chest and it's hard to get a full breath. I get antsy and jittery in ways that aren't attributable to the coffee. That's when I know it's time to write.

I have nothing in particular to give you today. No gems of wisdom or sage advice. Oh wait, I never have those. But nothing in particular. And no pictures today. Trying to successfully load them into Blogger just makes the tension come back and today is all about calming, not stressing. It's gray and flat outside, which kind of fits my mood and makes the coffee taste even better.

This week has been busy, like they all are lately, but I've enjoyed watching the zinnias sprout in my office window and the tulips grow outside my window. A couple of the tulips are sending up stems with swollen nubs on the end, which means I think we're going to have flowers one of these days after all. The yellow pansies that overwintered in the pots have finally opened and some new additions in shades of red and purple have perked up the patio and front porch.

Speaking of tulips, one almost brought me to tears the other day. Now keep in mind I said "tulips," because "Tulip" is a whole different monster who often brings people--or at least me and the water company guys--to tears. Tulip is the name of the Boyfriend's rose bush in front of his townhouse. I think it's named Tulip because when the Boyfriend first moved into that house, he honestly didn't know the difference between a tulip and a rose. Alright, he probably could identify a rose, but definitely not a tulip. He knew irises--which were the first flowers he ever gave me--but that was it. So as we were walking one spring and I was talking about the tulips (because what else would I be talking about?), he pointed out to me that he had no clue what a tulip was--it could have been a type of rose for all he knew. Well, somehow the giant rose bush, which will probably be thriving along with the cockroaches and goatheads long after the apocalypse, was dubbed Tulip. But Tulip is really a whole different story. I digress . . .

We were on our way home from the Boyfriend's parents' house after some hard manual labor. (Ok, ok, he did hard labor while I ate pizza, drank beer, and looked at plants.) Since it was still light out at 7 o'clock, we drove by the Mini on a reconnaissance mission. Last year I planted a tulip by the light post out front of the Mini. It was already blooming, but I figured it would provide some nice color and then maybe even survive for next spring. Well, the nice color part didn't work out so well. It wasn't in the ground long before it looked like someone whacked the whole upper part of the plant off. As it turns out, I think it was one of the deer that roam around Boise's east end from time to time. The numerous hoof prints left in the wet spring dirt make this assumption more than just a hunch. In any case, when we drove by last week, there it was. It hadn't flowered yet, but the deep green leaves were standing tall, looking fully alive and uneaten.

I was thrilled and completely surprised. (Remember, I always assume plants won't grow or I will kill them.) I think I might have teared up a bit. Although I blamed it on missing the soft serve ice cream at the Roosevelt Market, it was really because I was happy to see that I had changed that place. I left something beautiful in a place that left me with wonderful memories. That's what the idea of place is all about--it's a give and take. I pictured whoever is living there now coming outside one morning--maybe to walk downtown or maybe to get a latte from the Roosevelt Market--and seeing that tulip coming up, promising that spring was coming. She didn't know there was a tulip there and yes, I realize she probably doesn't really care, but that's not the point! The point is that I know it's there and that from now on that tulip will appear every spring in the place that I called the Mini. Or at least until it succumbs to the creatures of the East End, but hey, even they are part of that place.

The Perfect Week

2010-03-16T17:13:00.023-06:00

I've heard many a real gardener say that vegetable gardening really begins on St. Patrick's day. So here on St. Patrick's day eve, I'm here to give an update on all the spring happenings at our casa. It was 65 degrees today and it couldn't feel much more like spring. What a great week--a beer drinking holiday smack dab in the middle of a week bookended by daylight savings time and the first day of spring. This might just be the perfect week. To document this perfect week, I had to include numerous pictures.

First things first: the dogs got their first outside baths of the year today. I would just say first baths of the year, but that might gross some of you out, so we'll stick with first outside baths of the year. I've included pictures of the clean puppies only because most of you have probably never seen them this way (and probably won't ever again). Just imagine the vanilla scented dog shampoo wafting through the house and it'll be just like you're here!

Now for a tour of the garden . . . We've got lettuce and radishes in one of the cold frames and transplanted onions in the other. We've been opening them a lot and the last few days of sunshine have really got the lettuces and radishes going. I've tried to artfully not get the third raised bed in the picture, because that's my duty to finish and I haven't quite got around to that. (I will, Boyfriend, I promise!) I put the trellis up today and planted sugar snap peas this afternoon. Our garlic has really started to grow in the last couple weeks too.

Two weeks ago the Boyfriend built us an incredible compost bin, and I've included a picture of his handiwork. We are such legit hippies now. The Boyfriend says we're probably the weird couple in the neighborhood, which made me so proud I was smiling ear to ear. Mom and Dad have even donated some of their lawn waste to the compost pile, so it's truly a community compost bin. Here's hoping the worms feel equally involved and find their way to our trash heap soon!

Elsewhere around the yard everything is coming to life. The raspberry canes I planted last fall have actually made it through the winter. At first we could only see a couple green leaves at the base (which I was obviously ecstatic about), but now it seems as if little green leaves are appearing everywhere. I also included a picture of my much-loved hydrangea and its slow but persistent march towards spring. Even last year's fall-planted pansies have turned from brown to green and some have little yellow buds that look ripe for opening by the first day of spring.

While lots is happening outside, we might have even more going on inside. As luck would have it, our house has only three south-facing windows. One is in my office but the overhang over our entryway (is that called a portico?) means it gets shaded quite early in the afternoon. Another is in the bonus room, but the dogs called dibs on that one for their lookout spot. They "look" with their paws, which makes putting tender plant starts there a bad idea. The remaining winner-by-default window is in the Boyfriend's office and he has generously donated his windowsill--and increasingly his futon--for the sake of our veggies. In the picture you can see lots of little pepper plants and I've also got tomato seeds and basil seeds (hopefully) sprouting soon.

There you have it. It's almost like you're here, no? Now we must get on to the St. Patrick's day eve festivities. The Boyfriend says you can't turn every holiday into a two-day holiday by celebrating the "eve" of everything, but I say the world could use a little more celebrating and I could definitely use a beer!

March 8

2010-03-08T16:10:00.003-07:00

Today was a day for reflection. It's amazing how much can change in a year. Last year on March 8 I was planting Grandma's irises in a big concrete pot in the snow at The Mini. I was trying to be hopeful and optimistic, because being realistic was just too sad. I didn't know when I was planting those irises that my uncle would pass away that day, that Grandma would pass away that summer, and that those irises would come to be a happy reminder of a sad year.

This year on March 8, the weather was suitably gray and the skies full of rain that didn't give way until the afternoon. It was a good day to reflect on the past year. The quiet of a gloomy day seemed a fitting tribute to those who were in my thoughts today. It gave me time to think. I felt oddly connected to so many other friends and family who I knew were thinking the same things. I didn't feel alone, even though I was alone most of the day.

So much has changed in a year. This year, instead of planting at The Mini in early March, I have watched my irises come up at our new house. I planted them in the fall like I was supposed to and hoped all winter long that they would come up. When their little green tips broke out of the clay soil a few weeks ago, I felt like a proud parent. Nevermind that they're just doing what they evolved to do. I was so happy to see them. They didn't remind me of the sadness of last March 8 at all. When I saw them, I heard Grandma laughing and my uncle playing the guitar--none of the sadness. It's like they sang to me of all the happy things they reminded me of.

This past weekend, the last of my bulbs that were expected to make an appearance for my long awaited homeowner springtime finally showed up. They were the three little daffodils I planted in front of the rock by our entryway. They came from one of the arrangements that I cherished so much after the funeral. I cut the leaves off, put them in sawdust, and waited patiently until last fall to plant them for the first time. Thank goodness nature works even after you chop it up, put it in plastic, move it across town, and make it take root in the construction refuse that is our yard.

As if all these wonderful signs weren't enough, my hydrangea seems to have pulled through the winter. Erik cautiously told me there was a good chance it wouldn't make it--he knows how much I have been pulling for this little survivor. Our cold snap this winter was particularly harsh for Boise and it likely caused fatal damage to many perennials that can overwinter here. He even supplied me with two new beautiful hydrangeas last month. Well I'm happy to report that I think we'll have three hydrangeas now.

I don't know what to make of the last year. It's had some incredible highs--which you undoubtedly know if you pop in here every once in a while--but also some of the deepest lows. I've finally come to understand that I will never be able to wrap my head around some of the things that happened last year--I will never be able to make them make sense. But I've also come to realize that finding hope in the springtime, memories in my flowers, and so much love in those around me is an okay way to deal with that loss.

It's a National Almond Day Miracle!

2010-02-18T07:51:00.010-07:00

Two days ago I ran down the stairs yelling to the Boyfriend that it was a Christmas miracle. A Christmas miracle, Boyfriend! After asking for explanation, the Boyfriend informed me that onion seeds sprouting on February 16 was neither a miracle nor in any way related to Christmas. Always the pragmatist he is. So I've revised my statement, but I'm sticking with miracle.

Yeah, I get it. Seeds are supposed to sprout and do every day. But my seeds don't! At least not in a regular and predictable manner. And . . . here's the real miracle of it--the seed package said the seeds would germinate in 7 to 14 days. Well, my seeds just so happened to sprout in 3 days! My black thumb is fading to green as we speak. I don't know what the future holds for these little onion babies--I've read I should have planted onion sets, rather than seeds--but it can't hurt that they're off to a good start!

These seeds were the first ones I have ever started in one of those little windowsill greenhouses with the expanding peat pellets. I'm a big fan now. In fact, I'll probably start some peppers in them today. Adding water to the pellets reminded me of those expanding sponges when I was a kid: place dinosaur egg in water, let sit, find dinosaur upon return. This time, I added water, two tiny seeds, and found onions upon return--the adult version is just as much fun, and I love that the tiny little greenhouse already smells of sweet onions. I can taste them already . . . Ok, maybe not. That will be the real miracle.

In other sprouting news . . . when I got home from work yesterday the Boyfriend had a picture on his phone of a little sprout that he found in the cold frame. He said there are probably 5 or 6 sprouts. I went out there this morning but didn't want to open up the cold frame just yet--it's chilly this morning and it looked so nice and warm and humid in there. In any case, I don't know if it's the lettuces or radish that sprouted, but either way I'm excited that it wasn't too cold for something to germinate out there.

In bulb news, the tulips and irises have broken the surface but have yet to commit to flourishing in the late winter weather. Like most of us, they're holding out for spring. However, the garlic seems more ambitious and has really started growing in the last couple weeks--which corresponds to some warmer weather and a good layer of compost mulch around them when I was adding it to the raised beds. Notice the paw prints that seem to have narrowly missed crushing the little green shoots towards the back. Thank you, dogs, for your strategic and considerate trespassing.

Green things are happening, and for me, that's still a miracle.

Gardening Day 1

2010-02-11T07:22:00.005-07:00

Yesterday was a big day. I put my first seeds in the ground. Yes, outside in the ground. I've read more about gardening this winter than ever before, I've gone to classes, and I've asked for lots of advice. But at some point I had to actually start doing. I realize it may be way too early, but the one thing I've taken away from people and classes and books is that it's all one giant experiment. So I have a journal to mark down my activities and a table to keep track of seeds and planting dates and all that. I realize this year is going to be more of an experiment than most, but that is part of why I'm so excited. I'm figuring out what will work in our area and at what times. If a few vegetables make it to our table I'll be thrilled.

Lest you think I'm crazy, I should at least defend myself by saying that I planted cold crops--just lettuce (3 kinds) and radishes--and I planted them in the raised bed within the Boyfriend's masterfully built cold frame. Plus, it's been so mild how could I resist? The next week is supposed to be solidly in the 50s and hopefully when it cools down the cold frame will do its job and my little lettuces will be flourishing! Yesterday, however, was not in the 50s. Although the Weather Channel tells me it was mid-40s, it was blustery and cold. I include this picture of me on Gardening Day 1 because I think I'll look back in August and laugh at the various layers. It's also a testament to my zeal for gardening this year, however. In years past, I, like other people, thought about gardening on that first 60-degree day when the sun was flooding the earth with vitamin D and rousing people out of their winter blahs. This year, however, as you can see from the picture, I'm hard core!

Pigskin and Pork Belly

2010-02-09T09:42:00.021-07:00

Had I planned my life to coordinate with blog titles, I should have served potato skins at our Super Bowl party, but I'm just not that organized so a pig theme will have to do. The pigskin, of course, was Sunday's Super Bowl. Most of you probably know that I'm a huge college football fan--pro football, not so much. In fact, I don't actually care about or follow the NFL at all. The only reason I knew one of the teams that was playing in the big game ahead of time was because my cousin's poor cat was wearing a football jersey and I had to assume it was related to the approaching game since she is a much better NFL fan than I am. In any case, my interest in the Super Bowl is purely social, and this year I was so excited that the Boyfriend and I could finally have our own party.

The invitee list was short--I was worried about seating and where people would congregate. I'm not much of a winter entertainer and would much prefer to barbecue and let people wander in and out of the house, sitting in collapsible chairs with built-in drink holders. But everything worked out just fine. I thought some people would head upstairs to our comfier-by-the-day bonus room, but I should have known better. People always congregate in one place and that's usually the kitchen, which is as it should be. Norah ran around the house entertaining the dogs and the adults and proved to be much funnier than most of the commercials. Apollo couldn't quite figure out why her bed kept moving and why she was sharing it with a doll that she wasn't allowed to eat the stuffing out of, but she managed.

Which brings me to the pork bellies--well bacon, actually. Prompted by special requests--demands, really--Erik brought his wonderful steak and bacon bites. Despite my usual aversion to meat on meat, I and everyone else I know love these scrumptious little treats. They couldn't be more simple, but the quality of the two components and the easy toothpick plate-to-mouth delivery method are part of the allure. The tender piece of steak topped with melt-in-your-mouth sweet and spicy bacon are to die for. For better or worse, Erik has guaranteed his spot on every guest list at our place--contingent on bringing the steak and bacon bites of course.

So between the good friends and the good food, I didn't see much of the game at all. In fact, I didn't really even see any commercials. It's probably all for the best. CNN reported that women were upset at the sexist ads and men came off looking immature and idiotic. Come on people--they're selling beer and pizza. What did you really expect? You probably shouldn't have been looking for enlightenment and understanding while watching the Super Bowl. In any case, we had a great time hanging out with friends and I was so happy to have a place where we can share and enjoy time together, even in the winter. On a related note, Super Bowl marks the end of football season--another sure indicator that spring is on its way and barbecues are in our future. Thank goodness.

Hello. My name is Erica, and I'm a runner.

2010-02-05T10:23:00.004-07:00

I'm officially re-declaring myself a runner today. I made the decision on Tuesday, actually, but have been too busy doing very non-runner things to make my announcement (i.e., drinking, eating bread pudding, eating cheesecake, playing video games . . . you get the idea). In the down time between the aforementioned activities, I did find the time to check out Bandanna running company's race calendar and found myself excited to plan for some races. I'm choosing my blog as the medium to make this announcement because at last count I figured there are no more than three people who read my ramblings here. Should all three choose to hold me accountable for my declaration, that is a level of nagging, harping, chastising, and shaming I can probably handle.

The Boyfriend is a cyclist. (A "biker," I have learned, wears leather, not Lycra, and relies on gasoline, not thighs and calves for his power.) I have decided I again want to be "a" something--well, besides a writer or a fabulous cook or a really bad dancer. So I am again going to be a runner. Why running you ask? I'm good at it--not in the I'm fast at it type of way, but in a persistence type of way. Anyone who can run 18 miles on a broken ankle bone is either perseverant enough or stupid enough to be a runner. I'd appreciate no votes on which applies in this particular case.

I've really missed running since we had our big falling out a number of years ago. There is something so relaxing and soothing about running. Plus, I absolutely live for the dirty looks you get from non-runners when they see you out there on the weekends making them feel guilty for not doing the same. I also miss the way you can come to know a place through running. When I first moved to Corvallis, I started running. I was in Oregon, what else was I supposed to do? By the end of freshman year, I knew my way around town better than anyone I knew. I had run the whole town by that point. I knew the rises and falls, the best viewpoints of the river, and the subtleties that you can only know by travelling on foot. On the other hand, I didn't know which direction the one-way streets ran at all, which made me pretty worthless for giving directions.

I'd like to get to know this place on foot too. When I lived with Becky I used to go up in the foothills all the time. I knew those hills so well and it made me feel connected to that place more than I can ever explain. We have beautiful foothills by our new place too, and I want to come to know them just as well. I want to know the rises and falls around here the way the Boyfriend knows them on his bike (notice here that it's not a "cycle" even though he's a cyclist!). Most of all, I want to stop giving dirty looks and start receiving them!

It's February

2010-02-02T12:36:00.009-07:00

I have good news to report, although the title may have given it away. It's February! I love it when good news is guaranteed to come--February is always reliable for that. Despite the Boyfriend's urging that all months are created equal and possess their own similar possibility for beautiful days (very optimistic of him, I know!), January is my least favorite month. However, the last week or 10 days of January had some great events, particularly because they made me think past January and the various shades of gray that seem to be permeating the Valley and the people shuffling through it.

Edwards Greenhouse has been offering winter Saturday classes in preparation for spring planting. I've been to the first two and was absolutely impressed. The turnout was incredible--in fact, the staff was clearly overwhelmed at the response. They were digging out chairs (pun intended) from all over the greenhouse to provide seating and some people still had to stand. The first class was about planning a vegetable garden and I really learned a lot (which shouldn't surprise anyone since I'm a complete novice when it comes to gardening.) The second class also had a great turnout, but the staff was prepared with a microphone and more seating, although again people had to stand. This most recent class was about seed starting and again had tons of helpful information. I even bought some early-season seeds on my way out. If you're in Boise, I couldn't urge you enough to stop by the greenhouse. Although the place is always incredible, there is something magical about a bright, colorful, humid greenhouse full of blooms in the dead of winter. It's cheaper than Prozac and I would venture to guess more effective!

Other preparations are underway as well. The Boyfriend has been quite busy and I'm so thankful for his beautiful efforts. He finished our new raised bed for the garden and a gorgeous cold frame, which I think I will set in one of the existing raised beds and put to use right away. Seriously, isn't it incredible? After poring over my seed catalog for a couple of days, I finally decided (with restraint, I might add) what varieties to try this year. My order went in the mail yesterday and now I guess I just have to be patient.

I'm also scheming up a compost pile plan. I haven't quite decided what to use but am looking at a number of different options. The major concern is two dogs that like to eat rotten things. I'll spare you the details, but just trust me that they really do eat rotten things. Since rotten is kind of the premise of a compost pile, I'm trying to be proactive here! A slow couple weeks of work has left me plenty of time to dream and scheme and rejoice in the fact that January is done for another year.

Oh and I almost forgot. As I was walking by the side of the house yesterday, I noticed that Grandma's irises were peeking up out of the soil--just barely, but enough to make me smile ear to ear. Spring is in fact coming, and the fact that the message came from the oldest plants at our new place--plants that probably heralded in spring for Grandma time and time again--made it that much more real. Forget that groundhog, I've got an inside source!

A Snow Globe Type of Day

2010-01-25T07:17:00.011-07:00

Yesterday the Boyfriend and I headed up to Banner Ridge for some snowshoeing on what turned out to be the perfect day. We went a couple weeks ago, and although it's always fun to get out, the sky was gray, the snow was packed down, and the place was crowded. The last of these complaints is entirely our fault--or the dogs, depending on how you look at it. We didn't get up to the parking area at Whoop-em-up until way too late in the day, mostly because we had to wait for the pet store to open so we could buy coats for our dogs. There, I said it. We bought coats for the dogs. They really help them last longer in the snow. Apollo's keeps her warm, and Kira's just keeps her from getting baseball-sized snowballs on her belly and legs. Yeah, it's kind of (ok, really) embarrassing, but it makes it so much more fun for them and I don't feel like a bad parent. Anyway, back to yesterday . . .

We made it up to Banner Ridge relatively early. Although we weren't the first people there, I think most of the other people were on the groomed trails, where dog people like us aren't allowed. You never know what kind of snow you're going to get, but yesterday's was perfect. There was already a trail, but it still had a good six to eight inches of fluffy powder on top. Even better, the sun was shining in full force, providing vibrant blue skies as the backdrop for our snowy stroll. The combination of the sun and the powder resulted in pixie dust snow--you know, that really fine, light, glittery snow. I felt like Wendy from Peter Pan being showered with fairy dust as the snow blew off the tree tops. Then Kira stepped on the back of the Boyfriend's snowshoe and his cursing brought me back to reality.

Reality was better than daydreams yesterday, however--cursing and clumsy dogs included. We plodded slowly upwards toward Banner Ridge, met with gorgeous views all the way. Along the ridge, the Boyfriend ran into an old friend and we chatted for a while. (Yes, Idaho is a small place.) We walked along the ridge line for a bit before winding back into the trees and downhill. As we were coming down a long, straight stretch of the trail, I had a wonderful moment where my brain just went blank, totally quiet. I wasn't thinking about what we would have for dinner, if I was going to have any work this week, what form of melted cheese sounded the best, if I had paid my credit card bill, or whether Sasquatch would need snowshoes (yes, this was a debate earlier in the hike). All I could hear was the crunch, crunch of my snowshoes on the trail and the whooshing of my poles as they skimmed over the snow, my arms too tired to lift them high enough to clear the tall plateaus of snow on either side of the trail. These moments are few and far between for me, but they're worth the wait. The quiet and the peace and the stillness are absolutely cathartic. I snapped out of my moment rejuvenated, thankful, and energized as my thoughts returned to melted cheese.

It was a perfect day--a perfect, beautiful day in one of those gorgeous places that make me thankful to live where I do and have someone to enjoy those places with. And yes, we had grilled cheese sandwiches when we got home.

Preparations

2010-01-20T13:05:00.007-07:00

The past week has finally seen some real preparations for the garden and spring time. Good thing, you're thinking, because it's already . . . mid-January, I know. But it's fun to start dreaming about the garden and I almost guarantee the Boyfriend and I will plant too early, which we do every year but this year for sure since it's our first spring in the new house. In any case, we browsed through the Second Chance Building Materials store (very cool) a couple weeks ago looking for old windows and returned on Monday to pick up a couple. I think they're perfect. The boyfriend is going to turn them into, um, I don't know what they're called--essentially little green houses where we can start our seeds this spring. I think he read about it in Coop by Michael Perry. This system promises to be much more effective than last year's strategy of lining up soggy egg carton starts on the ironing board in front of a window. At least the ironing board got some good use. On a related note, I also finally ordered my seed catalog a week or two ago and am checking the mail eagerly each day.

I'm also trying to decide where to add a new raised bed or two. I proposed to the Boyfriend that I could buy some wood and he could build some more of his beautiful raised beds. He accepted, which is further proof that he's great. So now I have to settle on where, since the dimensions will be dependent on the space.

While the picture shows a straight-forward corner with nice clean right angles, there is one big unknown in this planning process: dog attack patterns. This corner is often the meeting place of six dogs, with an occasional unfortunate squirrel thrown in (actually above) the mix on certain days. A huge battle often breaks out in this corner, with none of the parties apparently deterred by the unmoving fence and lack of resolution. Let me introduce you to the contenders:

Along the fence in the right side of the picture are two chihuahuas. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned them before. Their noses make frequent visits across the fence, but luckily (for them) they weigh about 2 ounces too much to actually fit through the slats of the fence. How they have kept their noses attached to their scrawny little emaciated faces is beyond me and not for lack of effort on Apollo and Kira's part. On the left side of the fence there are actually two other yards that are close to the corner. They each have dogs and to tell you the truth I have no clue what kind. One is named Mr. Giles, but beyond that, they're both small and like to bark, which kind of makes them all the same to me. In any case, our dogs and these dogs often meet at the corner for these mock dog fights that involve serious barking, mild fence scratching, and neurotic running up and down the fence line. How this will all play out with garden planning is yet to be determined. The optimist in me thinks the raised beds will act as a deterrent. The realist in me knows that it will result in squashed squashes. Stay tuned.

The End of an Era

2010-01-13T07:59:00.003-07:00

During any given week, there are at least a couple days where I consciously think about how glad I am to be back in Boise, close to my roots, settled in a place that I love, and surrounded by the people that mean the most to me and tolerate me quite patiently and kindly. Yesterday, in particular, was one of those days.

I was lucky to go through Boise's public school system and have an all-around great experience. I know I received a great education in the classroom, but when I think back on those junior and senior high years, I often find myself reminiscing about the stuff out of the classroom. I loved playing sports and being part of a team (my, how that has changed . . . college group projects, and group grades, will do that to a person), especially in junior high. At the younger level, sports were about developing character, learning the fundamentals, playing as a team, and working hard. In high school, I suppose it was about some of those things, but it was also about politics, pressures, and expectations. In any case, I had a great set of coaches in junior high, and one in particular that I've kept in touch with. I think he expected great things from me, but somehow I never feel like he's disappointed by the rather average output of my adult life to date. He's been supportive during times I needed it most and always reminds me to be my best self.

I meant to get to one of his team's basketball games last winter, but just never got around to it. This fall, I saw an article in the paper about him and another coach coaching their last football game, since both would be retiring. I promised myself I would make it to a basketball game this winter, assuming it would be his last season on the hardwood as well. I put it off and put it off, not having the schedule and being busy with work. I finally emailed him last week and got the schedule and headed to a game last night. It turned out, it was his last game.

They lost quite badly, although they worked hard, played good defense, and worked as a team. He coached until the last second, still trying to get them to set the half-court trap just right. The end was unceremonious. The game wasn't at home. You wouldn't have known it was the end of a decades-long tradition at Hillside Junior High, and perhaps to many people it wouldn't have mattered, but it mattered to me. Those were some of my favorite years and my favorite teams. Those were years I learned a lot about hard work, respect, and pride.

I didn't necessarily set out to be there for his last game--my planning, or lack thereof, was just dumb luck. But it was perfect and made me thankful again to be here in Boise, where my roots run deep, where I spent those formative years that start shaping you into the adult you'll become, where I can show up to a junior high basketball game and be reminded of the important things that matter most in this world. Some teachers never stop teaching.

Happy New Year!

2010-01-09T13:49:00.003-07:00

So the holidays have come and gone, and my head might still be spinning from the 6 weeks or so between Thanksgiving and New Years. In other years I might have complained that I was so busy with work during the holidays, but this year I would be a fool to even consider it. However, I'm enjoying the general slow down that comes after ringing in the new year, watching the last bowl game, and eating the last of the sweets that have transformed me into a manic, headache-riddled, sugar addict. The produce section and I are looking forward to getting reacquainted.

I always look forward to the new year, but perhaps never as much as this year. I'm looking forward to so many knowns and am positive that the unknowns will hold even more excitement. I can't wait to spend a whole calendar year and four seasons in the new house. The Boyfriend has a great idea for a little mini greenhouse for us to start some seeds in and I just ordered my seed catalog online this week. I have this theory that once the new year comes, spring is just right around the corner. This little belief of mine is probably what makes the actual coming of spring seem so long and what makes me start planting things in March way before it makes any logical sense to do so. Hey, I have lots of friends in the plant industry who depend on people like me to do stupid things like that. These same people buy me beers every once in a while, so really, the money comes right back to me, right? In any case, I'll be looking forward to spring every day from now until the first crocus appears. Shoot, I didn't get my crocus planted. Ugh.

The new year also brings the promise of the regular semi-resolutions: eating healthier, being more active, calling my friends more, staying more organized, etc. We'll see how it goes. My progress so far has amounted to buying a file cabinet and going to the gym. I guess I'm easing into it. Oh yeah, I ate a salad the other day too. We're also hoping to plan a couple trips this year, perhaps to Tucson for the Tour de Tucson bike race and Washington DC for the Boise State vs. Virginia Tech football game. Now that I think about it, saving money should probably be in the resolutions too. I'm also hoping to do a lot more writing in 2010, both here and elsewhere. Here's to hoping the world will be as supportive of my writing as the friends and family that stop by here every once in a while!

Besides the big things, here are a few other mini-resolutions for 2010:

send cards for birthdays, anniversaries, and no reason at all (Note to self: This is largely dependent on being more organized--yikes.)
hand write letters, because I think my hand writing is regressing to post-elementary school levels
return library books on time, because I hate having to wait for something I really want on the waiting list
deal with the mail every day, instead of stacking it nicely in an ever-growing pile
print out pictures, because if my hard drive crashes I'll have no life history
try to hate doing laundry less

Ugh, I'm getting overwhelmed, so we'll just stop there for now.

Here's to 2010 and great possibilities.

Places, spaces, and holidays

2009-11-26T11:24:00.003-07:00

I've always been fascinated by the idea of place. It's a very complex and meaningful concept to me, and I suppose it has been, in some way, since I was quite young. Place ranks up there with family, friends, love, respect, and cheese in the things most important to me. I've been reading Michael Pollan's A Place of My Own: The Architecture of Daydreams recently. While it is actually about architecture in a major sense, it is also about writing and place, hence the reason I put it on hold and actually followed through with picking it up at the local library. Anyway, Pollan asks, "What is a place after all but a bit of space that people like me have invested with meaning?" I've rolled this question around in my head quite a bit, and whether I agree one hundred percent or not, he's definitely on to something. Where am I going with this? The holidays are definitely one of those times that we invest meaning in our spaces. And this year, in this new space, I'm happy to be continuing traditions and perhaps starting new ones.

As I think I mentioned before, it doesn't take many years for me to call something a tradition. I suppose it just takes the knowledge that I want to and will do something again and on a regular basis. (For those that know me well, this is a huge acknowledgement in itself!) So even though this was only the second year that I pulled out the Soroptomist gift list and tearfully read over requests for lotion, soda, salt and pepper, and Kleenex while watching the Thanksgiving Day Parade, I was still happy to continue a tradition. Last year, The Boyfriend and I each picked out an oldster to buy a gift for after I read the entire list and cried because of the simple and basic items these people requested. This year, we thought about going in together for one oldster, since times are a little lean. But after wish list entries that were as simple as Kleenex and warm socks, or diet Pepsi and chocolate, I think we can spring for our own oldsters. And just to give you an idea of how great I think this list is and how much it puts me in the giving spirit, I'm even thinking of signing up for an oldster asking for an Oregon Ducks calendar. The week before the biggest Civil War ever, I think you'll understand the implications of this gesture. (Go Beavs!)

The tradition of alternating Thanksgiving between my mom and aunt's house continues this year, and it's Mom's turn. However, we're joined this year by my aunt and uncle from my dad's side of the family. I'm so excited to have both sides of the family together, especially this year. This Thanksgiving is going to be hard because of the year we've all had, but having more love, and more family, and more thankful faces around the table will make it easier. We'll laugh and we'll drink and we'll eat too much food like every year, and that will feel good. We'll miss those who aren't with us around the table, and that will feel good too because it means they're in our hearts. It means that love is strong and real and that we're present. The Boyfriend had to remind me once this year that being sad is good for that reason--it makes us know that we are here and we are experiencing life and love, both in the hard and wonderful times. I'm thankful for all that this year.

Will Thanksgiving with both sides of the family be a new tradition? Probably not, because I'm guessing my cousins will get their parents back for next Thanksgiving, but I'm hoping Jade's Chopstick on Thanksgiving Eve will be. What says Thanksgiving Eve like Chinese food in a strip mall? Apparently nothing, because the place was packed and I was happy as a clam to have someone else cook for me with spices and ingredients and meats that couldn't be less Thanksgivingish. Yes, Thanksgivingish. I even have leftovers, should I dare having a pre-Thanksgiving lunch. Right now, I'm trying to talk myself into a pre-Thanksgiving run.

Bring on the holidays--bring on the turkey and the beer and the laughter and . . . I was going to say tears, but I'm not trying to rhyme so we'll just leave it at that. I have so much to be thankful for today and always. I think I do a pretty good job of remembering that, but I'm willing to eat some pie and mashed potatoes for good measure.

Bulbs

2009-11-15T11:57:00.015-07:00

Last weekend I finally got the majority of my bulbs planted. I bought most of them a while back, but after the struggles of planting our perennial bed, I was lacking the motivation to do battle with the cement slabs, beer bottles, and belts of rusty nails that are buried just under the surface of our flower beds. However, The Boyfriend was in the garage fixing a dozen or so flat tires (I'm not exaggerating here either), so I figured I had some time to kill. Plus, if I was going to justify drinking a beer in the garage with him, I thought I should probably do some work to earn it. I don't call it a home-improvement beer because you get to sit on your ass while you drink it!

At first I was paralyzed with the decision of where to plant the bulbs. Where would the colors look best? Where would they not compete with the generously landscaped beds? What would those beds even look like in March? It seemed like a big decision, until I reminded myself I could always dig them up next year if I hated where they ended up. The Boyfriend made some suggestions and I dug in (pun intended). I was pleasantly surprised that the dirt in the front of the house was rocky, but otherwise fairly innocuous.

As most of you won't be surprised to learn, I had some bulbs to plant that were especially meaningful, which might account for some of my hesitation in deciding where to place them. I started with the irises. The irises came from Grandma Zada's yard almost a year and a half ago now. Last spring, I planted them at The Mini on what turned out to be the day that my uncle lost his battle with cancer. Last spring I waited and waited for them to come up, wanting desperately to see something beautiful spring forth from that sad, snowy day. Finally, little green tips pushed up through the soil, slowly at first and then surprisingly quickly. They didn't actually produce flowers last year, as Erik had warned me might happen. But they grew and they were alive and that's all I cared about. When I moved out of The Mini this summer, they were one of the last things to make the move. I dug them up and stashed them in a paper bag in the garage, where they've been waiting for their new ground--ground I hope they will occupy for quite some time. During that time, Grandma passed away, but while I was planting the irises on the west side of the driveway, I couldn't help but smile thinking how thrilled she would be that some of her flowers are here in Boise at our place. My Grandma Garden will be complete in the spring when I get some gladiolas in the ground.

Around the crazy tree in front, The Boyfriend and I both thought some tulips would look nice. I planted the little bed full of dark maroon and white tulips. The ones that didn't fit there went across the path in the hopes of creating a beautifully bordered springtime entryway. I even poured out all the bulbs on the sidewalk and mixed the two colors in an effort to combat my irrepressible urge to plant things in an ordered, symmetrical pattern. We'll see if randomness looks good next spring!

The final planting of last weekend was some daffodils that were in an arrangement I got following my uncle's funeral. You might remember this arrangement as the source of my hydrangea and azalea that we planted in the perennial bed in back. I only had three of these little guys, but I thought they would look perfect in front of a rock at the curve of the driveway. I dug these guys out of the arrangement, clipped the leaves off, and stored them in sawdust last spring, which in my mind leaves lots of room for error. Here's to hoping!

The only thing I have left to plant are some crocus bulbs. I bought these because there is not a more welcome sight in the world after winter than looking down and seeing those thin green harbingers of spring. When I lived in Corvallis, Mom and I would compare when the crocus came up as a sure sign that spring was in fact going to come again (Corvallis always won, for those of you who are curious). Crocus may be my annual Prozac, promising me that spring is around the corner even if many cold days will surely transpire between the first crocus and the breaking out of the flip flops. It's the promise that spring's coming that jolts me out of the doldrums of winter. Nevermind the fact that spring comes every year--I still need some green proof that this year won't break the mold.

A Perfect Fall Afternoon (and Kickstands)

2009-11-09T12:39:00.009-07:00

Sometimes things just feel perfect. I can remember a handful of moments in my adult life where I felt completely content, happy, and mentally there--when my thoughts didn't wander to other places, or my to-do list, or the six cookies I shouldn't have eaten for breakfast. But yesterday afternoon was one of those moments. The Boyfriend and I decided to take a bike ride--an Erica bike ride, mind you, not a Boyfriend bike ride. So we hopped on the bikes and headed out, I thought to the Optimist football fields down the road. I had secretly stashed a Frisbee in one of my panniers and attached it to my bike, a lopsided effect only possible with something as light as a Frisbee. (I tried it with groceries once, which didn't work out so well.)

Once we were on the road, The Boyfriend took a route I wasn't expecting. We headed out the rolling, two-lane road that I commonly refer to as Old Hill Road but is in fact just Hill Road. The fancy Hill Road Parkway relieved Hill Road proper of its thoroughfare duties a number of years ago, so we had the road to ourselves. We rode in the middle of the street, pedaling up the inclines and coasting the descents. When I was little, I thought if we drove the road fast enough it would feel like a "tummy-tickler" road I was once on in Arizona, almost like an impromptu roller coaster. Today, the rises and falls were just as much fun. In the years since I had been on that portion of Hill Road, the trees had enveloped the road even more, creating a shadowy tunnel. As we were riding west, the trees made the afternoon sun dance behind the fluttering leaves that would surely be gone in another week or two. I wanted to close my eyes and feel the sun flickering across my face, but I can hardly ride a bike with my eyes open, so I opted to just enjoy the view. The road cuts across the base of the foothills just a bit above the valley floor, so we could look down on farms and houses and horses. It was a perfect fall afternoon.

As we rode next to each other on the road, the leaves crunching and crackling under our bikes, The Boyfriend asked if I wanted to go up to the cemetery. I had only one question: was there a big hill to get there? No, he assured me, just a small rise. A small rise to The Boyfriend is a Mount Everest to me, but somehow, every time we're on the bikes, with the wind swooshing through my hair and the sun in my eyes, I seem to forget this. So we climbed up the road to Dry Creek Cemetery. I don't know how it is that I've never been up there, but if I have, I don't remember it at all. It was incredible. The single-lane road wound through the grounds, and colorful leaves punctuated the green lawns, along with flowers, memorials, and stately monuments. We didn't climb all the way to the Veterans' Cemetery, but took the road to the top of Dry Creek Cemetery. The view from the top was incredible, especially as the 4:00 autumn sun approached the horizon. It would have felt chilly if we would have stopped for long, but my muscles were warm from the steady "rise." We coasted all the way back down, only looking down long enough to avoid the occasional pothole.

As we came out of the cemetery and on to Hill Road Parkway, I was surprised to see we were right across from the football fields. We rode into the park, where I made a big show of parking my bike wherever I wanted, since I have a kickstand. After The Boyfriend assured me his next girlfriend would loathe kickstands as much as he does, he leaned his bike against the sign for field 3 (how inconvenient!) and I busted out the Frisbee. After two horrific tosses that sliced quite badly, the feeling came back to me and my throws improved. We tossed the Frisbee for 10 or 20 minutes before jumping on the bikes and heading home. Hill Road Parkway features one of the nicest, if most goathead-riddled bike lanes in town. It also, much to my delight, features a great walking path separated from the bike lane and road beyond by six-inch-high curbing. We waited for some real cyclists to pass by in the bike lane before riding home along the walking path. I thanked The Boyfriend for being kind (and dorky) enough to ride in the walking path with me. If any of those real cyclists did spot him and recognize him, I'm sure once they saw my bell and kickstand, that explained it all and he got a pass.

Peanuts

2009-11-05T07:32:00.009-07:00

A couple weeks ago I went out into the yard to pull some dead flowers out of their pots. I actually don't mind dead flowers all that much and am usually not in a big hurry to pull them out and admit autumn's victory, but I had a few that had turned to mush, and I was sick of looking at their slimy, depressing leaves. So I yanked them out, happy to think about what might go in that nice clean dirt next spring. Little did I know, something was going to be planted in one particular pot way before pansies in March.

A couple days later, I stepped out on the back patio to let the dogs outside to do their morning business. As I looked to the left, something caught my eye. It looked like a squirrel had already started digging in the empty pot and left a couple peanuts. I wasn't surprised; we had a small army of peanut burying squirrels that frequented The Boyfriend's pots at the townhouse. I was surprised, however, that this particular squirrel did not even take the time to bury its stash. The peanuts were just lying at the bottom of a nice deep hole. As I went over to either bury them properly or toss them out (I hadn't decided yet), imagine my surprise and horrific, immature disgust when I realized those peanuts were poop--big, fat cat turds. My already tenuous relationship with the neighborhood cats just took a decisive turn for the worse.

Over the past couple years, I had thought a lot about living in a real house and the responsibilities and freedoms that come with it. I thought a lot about our pets--enjoying their own yard, playing fetch, pooping off a leash (hey, after 4 years of dog walking, this is no small thing!). However, I failed to realize that we would be at the mercy of other people's pets. My first realization of this oversight came with our ventures out into the backyard and the humane society-esque greeting that came with them. Dogs everywhere: one big one and so many little ones I'd rather not take the time to list them individually. Collectively, they would still be drop-kickable. I probably hear two barks a month from the big one. The little ones, however, have become the soundtrack of my life, especially now that I work from home. Not wanting to feel left out, another, I would say medium-sized dog, has joined in from a couple houses down, and it might be the worst offender of all. Some of the dogs have started getting used to their new neighbors; others seem destined for eternal feuding. One dog must have recently acquired a bark collar, because now each of its high-pitched, temple-bursting barks is followed promptly by a beep! It actually is kind of funny, and I've started to admire the little guy's tenacity. In any case, that was Other People's Pets Lesson #1.

The cats, however, have collectively been Lesson #2. I know there are at least three cats who frequent our yard. I have no clue where they live, but from the looks of them, they're clearly from all different walks of cat life. One worked its way into my heart early. It's a petite, short-haired black cat with just a few white markings. It mews incessantly if it happens to join you outside, but is annoying irresistible. The Boyfriend and I have been too nice to this little guy, and perhaps our "peanuts" are what we have to show for it. The other black cat, however, has been best described by The Boyfriend as looking like it was lit on fire then promptly dunked in cold water. It looks like a walking comic strip and I probably wouldn't touch it with one of those Animal Planet catch poles and rubber gloves on. After the recent flower pot surprise and our dogs' particular affinity for finding and ingesting the "peanuts" they find in the flower beds, now when we see the cats in the yard we let the dogs out to chase. Any of you who know Kira will know that the success of this approach is dependent upon Apollo. Kira will give chase, but I think she's chasing Apollo with the hope that Apollo is chasing a tennis ball. Kira has been known to roll over when approached by a cat, so she's surely not tapping into her killer instincts.

If anyone has any cat repellent ideas, we're obviously in need.

Jack-o'-Lanterns 2009

2009-10-31T09:47:00.012-06:00

Last night, The Boyfriend and I finally got around to carving our pumpkins. As I've mentioned before, we've carved pumpkins for the past two years, which in my world is absolutely long enough to be called a tradition. So this year was our third annual pumpkin carving event. Since our pumpkins were a little bit on the small side, we bought a couple pumpkins at the store a couple weeks ago. Interestingly, The Boyfriend ended up choosing a fairly small one anyway, figuring the smaller the pumpkin, the sooner he would be done with his carving duties. (He really does enjoy it, I swear!) We had good intentions to do our carving the last couple of weeks, but kept putting it off. So last night, we set up shop in the garage and went at it.

This year I was going for redemption. Three years ago I was carving pumpkins with a friend of mine who had never carved a pumpkin before. Thinking I would keep it pretty simple, I decided to carve "BOO" into my pumpkin. As I came around the bottom of the B, however, lining up that bottom curvy cut just perfectly with the left edge of the B, I realized I had made a grave mistake. The whole B just fell right out of the pumpkin. Duh, you all say. But I hadn't thought it through (obviously). My B had no middle, and I'm pretty sure I just followed suit for the subsequent O's. My disappointment was matched only by my embarrassment at making such a rookie mistake.

This year, I set out to redeem myself. The Boyfriend knew my carving plans but would not unveil his. He usually goes for a scary face. (Although last year he did carve BOO in the back of his jack-o'-lantern just to irk me. It worked.) He finished his small pumpkin first and put it on the porch. When I finally finished mine and took it around the corner to join its little buddy, I fell in love with the Jack-o'-Lanterns 2009. Now I'm crossing my fingers for just one trick-or-treater so someone besides us and the two people who read this blog will see our masterpieces.

It's everything I hoped for this past spring when I planted our pumpkins. Sure, we didn't actually carve our pumpkins, but we carved pumpkins, together, in our house. As we sat out in the garage, it was exactly what I had envisioned. Except that in my head, we would have been eating chocolate. I forgot the chocolate. Well, there's always next year.

Yesterday's significant (and possibly signficant) events

2009-10-30T08:44:00.007-06:00

Two, perhaps three, significant events happened yesterday. First, I witnessed the first snow of the season. Well, my first snow of the season. I heard rumors that a few flakes fell earlier this week, but since I didn't see them, they didn't count. Yesterday, flakes came down from 1 p.m. until 4 or 5 p.m. For all the complaining I do about winter (that's a lot, for those of you who are lucky enough not to hear it), I was really excited. The changing of the seasons is always exciting, even if it is from a better season to a crummy season. The snowfall yesterday also served as validation that I am in touch with the universe and its meteorological workings. About an hour before the flakes started, I thought to myself that for the first time this year, it felt like winter. Not like a crisp fall day, but like winter. And then, voila! The Boyfriend and I were both working from home yesterday afternoon, him upstairs in the bonus room and me downstairs in the official office that I am starting to enjoy. We took a midafternoon break for hot chocolate with caramel flavored marshmallows. What good is the first snow of the year if you can't look out the window with a cup of hot chocolate?

The second significant event yesterday was Becky's birthday. As birthdays do, this event comes around every year and always seems to serve as a reality check and life inventory moment for me. Once Becky's birthday is here, I know I will be putting the same number of candles on my cake in less than 6 weeks. This year marks the one year countdown until the big 3-0, an event my mother assured me was her hardest birthday. Thanks, Mom. But I'm not worried about that. I've seen others live through it with no ill consequences (excluding a slight hangover, perhaps) and I'm actually looking forward to what the next decade has in store. But I'm getting ahead of myself. When Becky celebrates her birthday, I always have this moment of incredulity where I realize we're real adults. This is easier for me to see with Becky--she's got a real job, husband, and kids. But sometimes Becky and I will always be second graders at the skating rink in my head. However, this year I'm just thankful that we've come so far but ended up back in the same place. Birthdays, whether yours or others, are a great time to be thankful--both for the past and for what's yet to come.

The third event--which may or may not be significant, the jury is still out--took place when The Boyfriend took the puppies out in the yard last night after the snow stopped. In the first garden bed, hardly visible if you didn't know what you were looking for, he saw a small green shoot coming up from a clove of garlic that I planted over 6 weeks ago. I would post a picture, but it's so small you can hardly see it, and you would just laugh that this tiny thing may actually be a significant event in my life. Don't mock. I had given up on the cloves long ago (and had started lamenting that I had buried a perfectly yummy, edible item in the dirt), but there was no reason to pull them out since I didn't need the bed space. We'll see if anything comes of it. Let's just say I won't be taking garlic off the grocery list just yet.

Storms, House, and house

2009-10-28T07:56:00.006-06:00

I have historically been allergic to Sundays the way most people are to Mondays. I have always felt like once Monday roles around, the week has started, there is nothing you can do about it, and the weekend is on its way. Throw in a donut day and a happy hour somewhere in there and I'm good to go. That being said, I don't LOVE Mondays. I don't wake up (these days at 5:00 a.m.) yelling, "Yay! Monday!" So when I woke up this Monday morning, I bemoaned the start of yet another bootcamp week (and the beer and football watching that was surely going to make it especially painful) and then promptly remembered that Monday night is House night. Now if you don't watch House, you won't understand (and why aren't you, anyway?) But for those of us who are addicted to Hugh Laurie and his American accent in his role as Dr. House, you know what I'm talking about. I looked forward to the show all day, partly because it's an hour of just sitting and relaxing with The Boyfriend. Sometimes he'll even cuddle with me if I 1) look really cold; 2) look really scared; or 3) offer to get, make, prepare, or otherwise aid in the transfer of dessert from the kitchen to The Boyfriend's belly. In any case, I look forward to our Monday evenings. However, this Monday evening held two surprises: 1) House was not on and 2) a very cool storm rolled in just about the time we were looking to sit on the couch and be entertained.

Although I really dislike the cold weather, especially when I'm just trying to make that transition from warmer to colder seasons, I really love storms. I was spoiled at my parents' house. No, not in the only child type of spoiled, but in the sense that their view over the valley was incredible for watching the weather, the sunsets, and the passing of time in general. However, I'm realizing that our new place has pretty respectable vantage points as well. On this particular Monday, The Boyfriend and I went upstairs in the bonus room to check out the storm.

The big window in the bonus room looks west and offers a great view of the weather heading our way. We opened the window and the 50 mph winds were howling. They were kicking up leaves and swirling them up and down the side of our neighbors' house. As I stood at the window, I realized I was getting rained on through the window. And not just a little bit. The wind was blowing the rain right through the screen. Hmm, that's why The Boyfriend was sitting behind me on the couch as I stood by the window. Anyway, it was cool. Maybe even cooler than House. We sat upstairs for the next hour or so, watching some other TV show but mostly watching the outside fade from stormy dark to just dark. I think sometimes just sitting and being together and being present is all we need. But I'm not going to lie, if House isn't on next week, I'm going to have to write a letter.

Our Maple

2009-10-11T11:25:00.008-06:00

I feel like October hit and nature decided it was time to get on with fall in a hurry. Last week the small trees started changing colors. It's so subtle at first--maybe one leaf looks brighter than the rest--but then it seems to happen so fast. This week more trees started their seasonal wardrobe change as well. Thank goodness the big trees are looking defiantly green. I couldn't handle the complete undoing of summer quite yet. But I know it's only a matter of time, and I suppose I'll be ready for it when it comes. We've been enjoying the fireplace, football, and cool but sunny evenings in the yard with the dogs. If only winter didn't come after fall I think I would thoroughly enjoy autumn in all its colorful glory.

Since I've been working at home, I've been a bit more observant about the changes in the season as I watch days unfold through our still curtainless windows. Last week I noticed the tiny maple in our yard had started to turn. Surely amusing our neighbors (if any were watching), I went out back and took pictures of my maple tree. I took closeups of the leaves and some from a distance. Why? There is nothing spectacular about this particular maple or the bronzy maroon taking over its leaves, but this maple is mine. I have never had a tree before (and I suppose this one isn't truly mine for 357 more mortgage payments), so I'm especially enthralled by watching my maple turn fall colors. I even saw what appeared to be the first leaf that dropped from my maple. Which reminds me of something. Once it starts dropping more of those beautiful leaves, I'll admit that it's our maple (and by ours I mean The Boyfriend's, of course).

Pumpkin Sex

2009-10-02T14:35:00.015-06:00

Yesterday morning I went out to the garden to survey the damage after our first frost. October isn't messing around. Everything got it, even the tomatoes I covered with old bed sheets. In any case, as I stared at my limp, lifeless pumpkin vines, I couldn't help but laugh at our learning experience with pumpkins this summer. As I mentioned before, our pumpkin started out in a ridiculously small hand-me-down white plastic pot on my patio at The Mini. Like most plants, I attached way too much sentimental value to this inauspicious green vine. It represented all the hope for the coming summer and fall. I desperately wanted to plant it in a nice big garden where it would grow giant pumpkins that we could carve in the fall. The Boyfriend and I have carved pumpkins for the last two years--both our Halloweens together since I've been back from grad school--so it only seemed fitting that perhaps this year we could carve our pumpkins in our house.

I transplanted the pumpkin during a week of 100-degree weather. It took a week or two to get acclimated to its spacious new home but after that it started growing fast. I would mark its progress each day by noting how much further it had inched across the 8-foot bed towards the cucumber. When it started curling its delicate but defiant tendrils around the defenseless cucumber, I called it a victory for pumpkin and stopped measuring the speed of the attack. The pumpkin also had those beautiful, big, happy flowers that would greet me every morning. (Look to the top of the page--those are the ones I'm referring to!) The pumpkin had been blooming since its days at The Mini, so I felt quite confident that we were indeed making pumpkins.

However, one day I noted my gardening pals had all started mentioning baby pumpkin sitings. The Boyfriend and I scoured the vines but couldn't spot any babies. After another week or two, I told my plant friend Erik about our pumpkin troubles. "Oh, well just head out there in the morning with a Q-tip and swab the flowers!" Excuse me? Did he really think I was going to go out there with a cotton swab and play pollinator? As it turns out, I didn't have to. One bright morning when the flowers caught my eye, I told The Boyfriend we might as well try making some baby pumpkins. Sure enough, he had been out the day before, Q-tip in hand. I guess when the birds and bees are preoccupied, Johnson & Johnson can pick up the slack.

A few days later, I spotted the tiniest baby pumpkin. Turns out that baby pumpkin is actually the female flower's ovary. Crazy! The Boyfriend claims he is not the father, but quite a coincidence otherwise, don't you think? They are obviously a bit too small to carve, but they're still our pumpkins at our house and this year I'm going to call that a win.

"Next year it will be perfect"

2009-09-28T07:40:00.009-06:00

Yesterday afternoon I was lucky enough to spend the bulk of a warm, bright, late-September afternoon touring a few of Global Gardens' refugee farms. Somewhat uncharacteristically, I was a bit apprehensive about heading out to the 7-hour event on my own. I was convinced yesterday morning that the swine had finally infected me with their flu and I was just feeling blah. As it turned out, a little inspiration and rejuvenation from the incredible Boise community was just what the doctor ordered.

After meeting at the King of Glory Lutheran Church, the participants boarded a bus and headed off to the Somali Bantu farm in Eagle. The land is owned by the Camille Beckman company and sits next to their facility out Highway 44. It's a beautiful setting, situated away from the main road and nestled next to a nice canal flanked by large trees. The director of the Global Gardens program gave a short introduction then let the farmers do the talking. The president of the Somali Bantu community spoke about the farm and its incredible accomplishments in just three years. The community's marketing director then spoke about their experience selling the produce at the Tuesday and Saturday farmers markets. He demonstrated some of the tools they use and also gave us a tour of the farm, row by row, noting what was planted and how it had fared this year. For the crops that didn't turn out as well as anticipated, he noted what they did wrong and promised that "next year it will be perfect."

Next year it will be perfect--what a wonderful phrase. It kept bouncing around in my head, and not just because my cranium was extra empty this particular day. It's enticing and inspiring not because I think next year will be perfect, but because it represents this wonderful recognition that we can learn from a mistake, release it, and try harder to get it right next time. For a person who has always thought you have to get it right the first time--and rarely, if ever, does--this is a mantra to live by, both in my garden and everywhere else.

We continued our tour with stops at the African Community Development farm on Allumbaugh and back at the church to tour their community garden and eat a delicious, local meal. As the last of my white bean, chicken, and tomatillo chili hit my stomach, I was totally content, tired, and completely inspired by the people and places I was introduced to over the course of the afternoon. Totally content as I may have been, the apple pudding with maple whipped cream did seem to be the perfect ending to a perfect day.

Fall Planting

2009-09-14T10:00:00.007-06:00

Last weekend I decided to try some fall planting. Like all aspects of the garden, this endeavor is perhaps more experimenting than gardening, but perhaps that never really changes. I set out looking for onions but couldn't find any so settled for garlic. Settling probably isn't a good word, because The Boyfriend and I both really enjoy garlic. In any case, the nice man at Zamzows pointed me to the garlic and I picked out two handsome looking varieties: Chesnok Red and Early Italian Purple Grape (which is neither grape sized or purple--the Red, however, is purple). I also picked up some carrot seeds since I read somewhere that you can plant carrots in the fall and they'll survive into the snowy season. I even read that a good layer of snow can insulate the soil and create an even sweeter carrot. Perfect.

As I was driving home, feeling quite excited about my bag full of experiments, I realized I had no clue how to plant garlic. I had this moment where I thought I just plopped the whole bulb right in the soil. Then I realized I would have just planted the very end product I'm trying to grow. So some quick Googling confirmed my second hypothesis, that I plant the cloves individually. Yes, these are the things us novice gardeners have to Google. At least I'm fessing up.

Before I could plant, I had to dig up something to make some room. I'm not about to add a new garden bed this time of the year. I think I wanted an excuse to do so, however. I was overwhelmed by the jalapenos. I harvested everything on the four plants and promptly ripped them out. I was relieved and sad at the same time. I'd done so much to nurture those little plants but they paid me back ten-fold. Then I ripped out the beautiful, productive, and disgusting cucumber. But more about that at a later date.

With room to spare, I set about planting the garlic where the cucumber once lived. Both garlic bulbs yielded about eight nice-sized cloves. I planted all the garlic in the first bed, the Italian in a row closest to the house and the Red Chesnok in a row behind. (I mention this so I might have some clue in the spring what I'm digging up. Although, I have a feeling garlic might just be garlic to my unrefined palate.)

In the T-shaped area left by the jalapeno removal operation, I scattered some carrot seeds. Danvers Half Long carrots to be exact. I haven't seen them come up yet and they've been in the ground for nine days, along with the garlic. But that's half the fun--not knowing what to expect.

Like most things in life, I'm ridiculously excited for this planting experiment, and it's not because I absolutely love carrots and can't stand to buy my own garlic. It's mostly because of the idea of it all. Planted now, the garlic will be ready for picking in the spring. It will remain in the garden all winter, the lone guardian of our raised beds during this first winter at the new place. Planting now for the spring makes me feel like it isn't that far away and like I'll be looking through seed catalogs in no time. Winters can get hard and long, but if those little garlic cloves can make it out there in the snow and cold, I can surely persevere in my always 74 degree house.

The carrots, on the other hand, I hope to harvest in the snow. The idea of going out in December and picking something from our garden makes me insanely happy. Ultimately, I'd like to have a three-season garden, which I've been assured can happen around here. The carrots are my first step in that direction.

The Sale

2009-09-09T08:02:00.017-06:00

This weekend was the one I'd been waiting for since we moved into the new place. My favorite nursery had all perennials half off starting on Friday. Given my recent work situation, I found myself quite free on Friday morning and I was ready to show up at 8 a.m. and fight the old ladies for the hostas. Well, thanks to a late-night, action-packed BSU game, I didn't make it there until 9:15 and I didn't actually have to fight anyone for my hostas. The nursery was packed, however, and everyone looked as delighted as I was to spend a cool Friday morning wandering around the greenhouses. Being underemployed really has its upside!

I went for the herbs and veggies first and bought rosemary for a patio pot. Next I got an everbearing red raspberry, even though I don't have a place to put it yet. I've never grown any berries (obviously, since this is my first garden) and just couldn't resist. Some women can't say no to shoes that are 50% off. I can't say no to plants. I'd like to pretend that's more noble. In any case, I then made my way to the hostas and heucheras. I got a "Frances Williams" and "Gypsy Rose" hosta and two "Coral Bells" heucheras (mostly, I think, because I like to say 'heuchera'). I grabbed a "Clair de lune" clematis, which I swore would be the first plant I bought for the new house. I picked up a ground cover for under the crazy tree in front of the house and a sun flower for The Boyfriend. (Which isn't a perennial, as it turns out. Or at least it wasn't half off. The things I do for him . . . ) Finally, I couldn't say no to a beautiful $1.00 geranium. (Come on! It was $1.00!) I loaded it all in my car with great satisfaction. Later in the weekend we stopped at another store and purchased three more hostas ("Wide Brim") and three Lily of the Valley plants.

There is something so gratifying about planting perennials. I think part of it is the feeling of permanency. I've never lived anywhere long enough to really care about planting something that would come back the next year. I've watched seasons change through trees at apartment complexes and rhododendrons at dorms and sorority houses, but there is something very removed and detached about it all. Having my own house and yard makes me feel like a part of the whole process. I can't wait to watch the plants next year and the year after that, their new roots gradually becoming stronger and deeper and becoming a part of this place.

There is also something ridiculous about buying perennials. When else would you pay good money (even at half off!) for a homely looking plant that has been cut back to nothing but a stub? We bought some plants that barely have a shoot of green sticking out of the soil. Here's crossing our fingers for accurate pictures on the tags! But that's also the fun of it and the benefit for our black thumbs. They can only look better next year, right?

The final perennial acquisitions this weekend were cuttings from my mom's grasses. Although you could hardly tell that we chopped and butchered her enormous grasses, we took quite a few good bunches home to add to the side of the house. With all our plants laid out, we set to planting, which turned out to be the most challenging part, thanks mostly to the various debris and random cement slabs embedded in our yard. However, we got all our plants in the yard (although not exactly where we had planned due to the aforementioned cement slabs) and I'm quite happy with the result.

Among my favorite additions to our space are a hearty and perseverant hydrangea and azalea that have toughed it out with me in various locations and various pots since the spring. I'm pulling for them more than I should and I've attached way too much sentimental value to these two survivors, but that's the kind of year it's been. I think sometimes we find hope in the most unlikely places, but when I saw that azalea putting out new blossoms last week I was reminded again that it really is about the little things.

The Garden

2009-09-07T11:40:00.019-06:00

As spring sprung this year, I seemed more in tune with the seasons than usual, watching every crocus bloom and paying particular attention to the daffodils and tulips. And I had a stronger urge than ever to put stuff in the ground. I was hoping this year would be the year I purchased a house with a yard and a garden and I proceeded accordingly. I subjected various innocent veggies to plantings in little pots on the patio at my tiny little guest house, affectionately called "The Mini." I planted in the hopes that every plant would have a more permanent home at some point later in the spring. I planted a pumpkin and cucumber in a ridiculously small pot--I was very optimistic!

The Boyfriend helped me build a "square-foot garden" (it was actually four square feet) where I planted tomatoes and peppers. Because I couldn't say no to a nine pack of peppers, I filled up other planter boxes with the rest of the jalapenos with the hopeful anticipation that spring seems to fill us with and fall seems to mock us for. As it turns out, even five or six jalapeno plants is a ridiculous idea for a household of two. But more about that later.

So all my plants were hanging in there on the patio of The Mini when we left for our mid-June vacation to Seattle, the Oregon Coast, and Portland. Sitting on the balcony of our hotel room in Cannon Beach and looking out over the ocean, I called my dad to check in. We were closing on a house on Monday. It was Wednesday. I hadn't started packing. Shoot, I hadn't even given my 30-day notice to the landlord. Yikes!

When we got home, the chaos ensued. Packing up two households, deciding what to do with The Boyfriend's townhouse, switching utilities, getting a fence, and all the other not-so-fun stuff that goes along with homeownership. However, this was my very first home and even without the promise of an $8,000 check from Uncle Sam, I was ridiculously excited. Especially for the yard. My poor little plants were finally going to have a home. They had held on into July (we moved in on July 4th) so I felt like I had to move fast.

I couldn't wait for my garden. The Boyfriend got to work quickly on our raised beds. Two beautiful two-by-eight-by-one foot beds. Then they sat in the garage while I tried to decide where to put them. Where I wanted them and where mother nature would shine her light on them were two very different places. But because mother nature wins every single time--a fact I'm time and time again reminded that society hasn't comprehended yet--I realized we were going to have to pull out the pine tree in our back yard. It wasn't such a bad decision to come to because we wanted to get rid of it anyway.

So one day after work, I went at it. I dug and dug, constantly thwarted by the rocky fill that is responsible for making our yard (almost) level. I had made some progress around the base when The Boyfriend came home and just yanked it out, Paul Bunyan style. I contend he couldn't have done so without my digging. He, not surprisingly, disagrees. In any case, let's say we worked together and the tree was out. We went to the store for burlap and twine in the hopes that someone would give our tree a new home. I'm no tree killer, after all. Sure enough someone came the next day and hauled it away to live happily ever after.

After the tree was gone, I set to digging out an area for the raised beds. In this endeavor, I was quite naive. How many times had I sat on a lawn as a child, idly picking away at the grass or watched my dogs scratch at the yard, proudly proclaiming their pooping success, as the grass flew in all directions. I thought this feeble, weak, and flimsy plant would be quite easy to remove. As it turns out, I was wrong. I suppose it was easy enough, but it was heavy. And the rocks continued to play antagonist in this story of me versus the yard. When I finally removed an area of sod big enough for the raised beds and a border around them, I was quite pleased with myself (and tired). I showed it to The Boyfriend; his response: "Now you're going to level it?" Um, yeah, of course! Ugh, more battles with the rocks. Finally it was level enough (which I think was the criteria for the yard as a whole!), and at last I got to bask in my victory. We set the beds in, filled them up with 14 two-cubic-yard bags of soil, and filled in around them with bark.

It has been so fun to watch the garden grow. It must be one of the simplest, most humbling, and gratifying activities a person can do. The back bed had a Sweet 100, a Big Boy (or something like that), a yellow pear (from an heirloom seed), and a Siletz (also heirloom seed) tomato. Overkill, yes, but lots of fun regardless. The back bed was also home to one red pepper, one green pepper from The Boyfriend's seeds, and four jalapenos (major overkill). The front bed had our pumpkin, another green pepper from seed, and a cucumber. My favorite has undoubtedly been the pumpkin, but more about that at a later date.

A garden, I'm told, is always a work in progress. Next year it will always be better. But I'm thrilled with our first attempt. Here is what the garden looked like the first week of September.

And that has been my first two months as a first-time yard owner!