Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Storms, tornadoes, and a really excellent fantasy book
It’s spring in Tornado Alley. Two nights ago we stood on our front porch teaching our baby about hail and marveling at a peal of distant thunder that extended for a seemingly impossible amount of time, and then doubled and even tripled its duration still after that. Yesterday morning we heard that a tornado had ravaged Joplin, MO, and we wondered if that distant and impossibly long thunder had really been thunder after all.
Last night we again stood on our front porch and watched a deluge wash over our land. Before the storm got bad enough to thoroughly jumble our satellite signal, wunderground.com said there was a tornado watch. Then the storm intensified and the internet died.
Storm-watching
(We also unplugged the computers, Mom.)
It is easy for those of us lucky enough to live in first-world countries to take shelter for granted. Houses, to us, are havens, party places, do-not-disturb tranquility zones, or status symbols. It’s not often that we remember that houses are primarily shelters.
I’m reading The Wheel of Time, a fantasy series on the covers of which the author’s name is as large as the title. Believe me, this surprises me as much as it should surprise those of you who know me in person. It’s fabulous. It comes highly recommended by this hypercritical English major. If you’re looking for imagination and excitement unsullied by copious amounts of erudition and deconstructive theory, but with enjoyable and sometimes even beautiful prose, you will definitely find it here. Perfect for snuggling in an armchair and devouring while a thunderstorm rages.
Anyway, there is a race of people, the Aiel, in these books who refer to houses as “roofs.” They have blessings upon entering a roof and refer to the mistress of the house as the “Roofmistress.” Watching these storms during these past two days has made this concept very concrete for me. Our houses are, first and foremost, roofs under which we can shelter from the elements in safety and comfort. In ordinary circumstances I can easily find myself lamenting that a house is not big enough, does not have enough storage space, is not arranged correctly, or has bad insulation. I can do this because I see my house as an extension of myself – the place where my stuff is, where I spend my time, and where my energy permeates the possessions and even the very walls. Listening to the storm rage about me, I realized that tonight, I would be just as happy to be dry in a cave. The important thing is the roof.
And then I thought of what happened to Joplin, and all the towns that have been torn apart by tornadoes, floods and hurricanes, and I realized that even though a house seems so permanent, so concrete and owned, even a house is not always sufficient shelter.
We couldn’t even find out if anything similar was happening right then. What happens when your place of safety is turned to matchsticks by a mile-wide tornado?
I sat in my home and listened to the rain pounding on the metal roof and against the windows and thought of how small a space is confined by these walls and protected by this roof. I prayed that it would stay safe and that Mother Nature wouldn’t feel the need to let my family know that she is stronger than our concrete and steel.
I also am still praying that the garden survive all this rain. It would be a small inconvenience compared to the devastation of losing one’s house, but I would really appreciate my plants not being wiped out.
p.s.: I apologize for the awkward formatting of the Amazon links. I wanted them in a neat straight-across line under the mini-review, but they haven't progressed to click-and-drag user friendliness and I really don't know how else to move elements around. I stopped being tech-savvy when the iPod came out and I didn't get one.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Rage Against the Butternut
One of our goals for living in the country is to eventually grow all of our food, with occasional dispensations for exotic foods. I also have the goal of buying local, which is somewhat incompatible given the fact that if one grows all one's own food, one by definition does not buy it. I'm sure that in the years to come we will find a balance between growing as much as we can and buying the items which are just too much trouble to grow ourselves. In the meantime, we're setting the goal of growing *all* and hoping for the result that we will therefore grow *more* than if we only set the goal of growing *some.*
Not to change the subject too quickly, but two years ago I bought some pie pumpkins with the laudable intention of turning them into a pie. They sat on the refrigerator for six months, at the end of which we found them while packing up the house to move. Ryan took one look and said, "Throw those away, they're all rotten."
Well, they weren't. One was a little soft at one spot, and in the middle of that soft spot was a tiny bit of mold. That one got thrown out. But the other was perfectly sound and edible.
The same thing happened the next winter, though the period of time was three months instead of six.
And thus I became a believer in the preservative power of pumpkins. Ryan expanded this into a belief in the preservative power of the entire squash genus. And because we want to eat food that we grew ourselves, last week he bought five varieties of squash seeds.
So we tilled up the garden, inventoried our seeds, measured the garden square footage, paced out the spacing between plants, and began planting seeds. Corn, carrots, turnips, cucumbers, watermelons and cantelopes joined the flourishing berry patch. Squash was the last thing to plant.
When we began planting our hills of squash, I noticed quite a few rocks in the soil and voiced a concern that the squash would have a hard time taking root. Ryan said, "With my luck, I could plant squash in a pit of rock and cover it up with eight inches of soil, pack the soil down and pour Roundup on it, and the squash would STILL come up."
"Aren't you being a little bit arrogant about your gardening skill?"
"No. I hate squash."
"So why did you buy five varieties of it???"
"Because it keeps well."
"Oh."
"The Rage Against the Butternut" was the running joke for the rest of the evening. Ryan made various aggressive man-noises as he hoed up hills for the squash, and punched the soil on top of the seeds with his fist. I came behind with my little handfuls of compost and told the seeds not to take it personally. On the last hill, he emptied the remaining contents of his seed packet all into one hole and said, "With my luck, those fifteen seeds will all sprout and won't even choke each other out."
I hope so. I hope to see shelves full of squash this fall, and if Ryan complains this winter that he's become bored with squash, I will gently remind him that he was the one who bought all those seeds. Ok, maybe I'll rub it in his face. It's no burden to me; I like squash just fine.
Amazon wishlist link (full disclosure: if you click through on this link and decide to buy the book, I get money and you get the satisfaction of helping to support our self-sustaining adventure):
Not to change the subject too quickly, but two years ago I bought some pie pumpkins with the laudable intention of turning them into a pie. They sat on the refrigerator for six months, at the end of which we found them while packing up the house to move. Ryan took one look and said, "Throw those away, they're all rotten."
Well, they weren't. One was a little soft at one spot, and in the middle of that soft spot was a tiny bit of mold. That one got thrown out. But the other was perfectly sound and edible.
The same thing happened the next winter, though the period of time was three months instead of six.
And thus I became a believer in the preservative power of pumpkins. Ryan expanded this into a belief in the preservative power of the entire squash genus. And because we want to eat food that we grew ourselves, last week he bought five varieties of squash seeds.
So we tilled up the garden, inventoried our seeds, measured the garden square footage, paced out the spacing between plants, and began planting seeds. Corn, carrots, turnips, cucumbers, watermelons and cantelopes joined the flourishing berry patch. Squash was the last thing to plant.
When we began planting our hills of squash, I noticed quite a few rocks in the soil and voiced a concern that the squash would have a hard time taking root. Ryan said, "With my luck, I could plant squash in a pit of rock and cover it up with eight inches of soil, pack the soil down and pour Roundup on it, and the squash would STILL come up."
"Aren't you being a little bit arrogant about your gardening skill?"
"No. I hate squash."
"So why did you buy five varieties of it???"
"Because it keeps well."
"Oh."
"The Rage Against the Butternut" was the running joke for the rest of the evening. Ryan made various aggressive man-noises as he hoed up hills for the squash, and punched the soil on top of the seeds with his fist. I came behind with my little handfuls of compost and told the seeds not to take it personally. On the last hill, he emptied the remaining contents of his seed packet all into one hole and said, "With my luck, those fifteen seeds will all sprout and won't even choke each other out."
I hope so. I hope to see shelves full of squash this fall, and if Ryan complains this winter that he's become bored with squash, I will gently remind him that he was the one who bought all those seeds. Ok, maybe I'll rub it in his face. It's no burden to me; I like squash just fine.
Amazon wishlist link (full disclosure: if you click through on this link and decide to buy the book, I get money and you get the satisfaction of helping to support our self-sustaining adventure):
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Berries
The really glorious thing about perennials is that they stick around forever. I only made the mistake of planting perennials in front of a rent house once, and vowed to never again after driving past it two weeks after we moved out and discovering that the landlord had ripped them up. I thought, "Well darnit, I would have taken them with me if I hadn't thought that it would be nicer to leave the improvements I made to this piece of junk house."
One side of our garden will be devoted to perennials. We will weed, mulch and aerate, but we will never again till up this patch. The berries will be pruned back every year but their roots will grow deep and strong. Each spring they will shoot up again with more vigor than the year before and fill buckets, baskets and tummies with an abundance of fruit. I can't wait.
The Internet says, with its full voice of authority, that blackberries and blueberries both love the acidic soil under pine trees. We did not plant them under our pine trees because we thought there would be too much shade, but one of my upcoming projects is to rake up piles of pine needles and to mulch these bushes with them. The Internet does not specify whether raspberries also enjoy pine needles; does anyone know? It would be most convenient to me if they did, since the raspberries and blackberries are right next to each other.
But perennials on a farm are entirely different. On our first walk after arriving at this place, our brains began exploding with ideas, mostly centered around fruit. Apples here! Cherries there! Blueberries! Blackberries! Raspberries! Grapes! I had moved on to plans for a giant greenhouse with lemons and oranges and bananas before my husband forcibly reined in my enthusiasm and laid down the law that for the foreseeable future we would work on plants that already grew well in Oklahoma.
He didn't curb my enthusiasm much. Even without the luxury of citrus fruit, the idea of plants that bore berries free of cost still translated in my mind to abundance beyond belief. I went to a local pick-your-own blueberry farm once and still remember with awe the endless supply of blueberries. I began imagining baskets and buckets full of more fruit than we would eat in a summer, and being faced with the problem (problem?) of deciding what to do with the rest once our greedy little purple-stained mouths simply couldn't take any more.
So we went to Lowe's. I love Lowe's. We bought blueberries, strawberries, blackberries and raspberries: two of each. Then we went to the Farmer's Market. We met the lovely people of Shady Grove Natural Farm who guided us to the best variety of figs and kiwis for our soil and sunlight, and we went home poorer but happier.
We also had to buy lumber to build some trellises for the vining berries, and I wanted to paint them white.
Blackberries in the background, Raspberries in the foreground. The trellises are Ryan's design and our joint handiwork, assisted by the moral support of the Tiny Pumpkin.
One side of our garden will be devoted to perennials. We will weed, mulch and aerate, but we will never again till up this patch. The berries will be pruned back every year but their roots will grow deep and strong. Each spring they will shoot up again with more vigor than the year before and fill buckets, baskets and tummies with an abundance of fruit. I can't wait.
The Fig Tree
The Blueberry Bushes: they look sad and lonely right now, but I look forward to them becoming lush and full.
The Internet says, with its full voice of authority, that blackberries and blueberries both love the acidic soil under pine trees. We did not plant them under our pine trees because we thought there would be too much shade, but one of my upcoming projects is to rake up piles of pine needles and to mulch these bushes with them. The Internet does not specify whether raspberries also enjoy pine needles; does anyone know? It would be most convenient to me if they did, since the raspberries and blackberries are right next to each other.
The Unplanted Strawberries: At the time of the photoshoot we had not yet discussed the best arrangement for the strawberries, and I thought it best to collaborate with the Mr. before putting them in the dirt.
I hear strawberries are annuals. (Yeah, I know lots and lots about gardening. Please don't ask me for gardening wisdom; I'll probably tell you the wrong thing. Ask my husband. He'll know, or else his dad will. But don't ask me.) I have this idealistic and romantic idea in my head that *maybe,* even if the strawberries *are* annuals despite all my wishes to the contrary, I *might* be able to let some of the berries rot on the ground and have them re-seed themselves. Again, insights? Will birds devour my overripe strawberries and foil my efforts? Am I doomed to re-plant strawberries forever?
I tried to teach Heidi about earthworms, but she emphatically did not care. The day after this photo was taken she tried to eat one, but I didn't have my camera at the time so you'll have to imagine it.
I have great hopes for my garden patch and its humble beginnings.
Friday, May 13, 2011
My first blog award
Thank you to Calah at Barefoot and Pregnant for giving me my first blog award!
So. Thank you, Calah!
Seven things about me? Hmm. I'll tell you seven things I've been doing recently. My activities count as "about me," right?
Ryan and I are unexpectedly getting to live our farm-life dream! Sometimes blessings come in unattractive packages, and if this one hadn't been forced on us I know I sure wouldn't have chosen it. Suddenly unemployed, we gratefully accepted my parents' offer to be long-term housesitters on their property while they move back to Dallas. Ryan has a job helping to build the nearby monastery, and I will stay home raising the baby and trying to grow food. I thought I had another job as a houseparent, but they wouldn't let me bring the baby, nor would they pay me enough for daycare. So here we are. The tally: suddenly unemployed, not independent = 2 for unattractive; however, living rent free, growing our own food, living the farm dream a good 30 years before we thought we'd make it = WIN.
Ok. Ten recently discovered bloggers. I don't spend enough time in the blogosphere to have discovered TEN bloggers recently. I'll tell you about some of my friends I frequent, though:
1: Is it cheating to tagback? I read Calah a lot.
2: Ashley at The Green Lady Society. She's a lovely lovely friend of mine who has recently become a yoga instructor.
3: Denise at Lost City Knits. Not only is she a wonderful person, but her hand-dyed yarns are to. die. for. Go buy some.
4: Renee at R&R Casa. She was a fellow English major back in our halcyon college days when our main worries were paper deadlines, and now she has great things to say about incorporating Montessori into the home environment.
5: Ava is my baby niece, and she and Heidi will probably be great friends when they're old enough to play with each other. Her parents allow her to have her own blog, which you can see I won't let Heidi do. One of these days I'll let her type a blog post though.
6: The Rhodes Log is the cyberhome of two fellow English majors who ended up marrying each other and constantly surprise me with their fascination with really excellent and unexpected things like bees.
7: Mariana at Back to the Best is like a little Better Homes and Gardens for newlyweds on a budget. Simultaneously inspiring and gigantically intimidating.
8: Debbie the Laundry Monster Slayer was one of my first knitting friends, and I have to say, knitting friends are different from all the other kinds of friends out there. Crazier, for one.
9: I read Arwen's blog and kind of feel weird about it since I don't know her at all. Stalker-ish, a little. But she just had twins, and they're beautiful little boys, and you should go look at her pictures!
10: And Meghan at Involving the Senses (blogger #2 of this whole darn list that I don't know in person) has lots of eye candy for artsy people.
There are some I would have liked to tag but who haven't posted in well over a year. It makes me sad when some of my favorite writers stop writing.
The end! Please, baby, GO TO SLEEP NOW AND LET ME GO TO BED.
For the record, she's sucking on my knee.
Yay
So, the rules:
The Rules of the Versatile Blogger Award are as follows:
- Thank the person who gave you the award and link back to them in your post
- Tell us seven things about yourself
- Award ten recently discovered new bloggers
So. Thank you, Calah!
Seven things about me? Hmm. I'll tell you seven things I've been doing recently. My activities count as "about me," right?
1
Ryan and I are unexpectedly getting to live our farm-life dream! Sometimes blessings come in unattractive packages, and if this one hadn't been forced on us I know I sure wouldn't have chosen it. Suddenly unemployed, we gratefully accepted my parents' offer to be long-term housesitters on their property while they move back to Dallas. Ryan has a job helping to build the nearby monastery, and I will stay home raising the baby and trying to grow food. I thought I had another job as a houseparent, but they wouldn't let me bring the baby, nor would they pay me enough for daycare. So here we are. The tally: suddenly unemployed, not independent = 2 for unattractive; however, living rent free, growing our own food, living the farm dream a good 30 years before we thought we'd make it = WIN.
Not actually our farm
2
Therefore, we tilled up our entire garden patch yesterday.
This actually IS our farm.
The schedule:
7 am: Intend to wake up. Alarm clock fail.
8 am: Actually wake up. Rush around frantically.
8:20 am: Leave the house, complete with baby; all parties (miraculously) satisfactorally hygenic and fed in a much shorter time than usual.
8:50 am: Rent tiller.
9:20 am - 5 pm: Work our butts off.
Kindly scroll back up and notice the weeds along the fence line, if you please. While not quite all the garden was that overgrown, there was enough. The first pass was a glorified lawnmowing job. Ryan tilled and I raked up piles of weeds. We found some bones from when my parents buried a dog in the garden. Returning the nutrients to the soil sounded like a great idea at the time. We found some snakes.
3
I KILLED THREE SNAKES!
Not actually one of my victims, though we did find a nest of copperheads
I got queasy about killing them, though, and began handing Ryan the shovel whenever I heard him yell "SNAKE!"
4
My daughter is a 6 month old nature lover, and therefore she supervised from a strategic location which was both in the shade and far far away from any danger of snakes.
Though somehow this picture makes it look like I was a negligent mother and left her in the bright sun to sunburn
5
Her puppy dog protected her. No kidding, he never left her side.
Ok, fine, that's a fact about him and not about me. But I bet you didn't know that four days before this picture was taken he had a run-in with a neighbor's chickens (he was trying to herd them) and got shot in the butt. We treated the wound and he was a very sad Buddy for a few days, but then we poured large quantities of honey down his throat and he was up and about the next morning. Honey: it cures what ails ya, even gunshot wounds to the gluteus maximus.
6
I won't let Ryan cut down this wild rose bush
until I take a cutting. If I asked, he would buy me five rose bushes at Lowe's, but I want this wild one that invaded the garden fence. I'm afraid you can't see the flowers very well, and I apologize for my finger being in the way.
Speaking of Lowe's,
7
it is a dangerous and wonderful place for me, and I am happy to accept birthday and good-will presents of gift cards there in any denomination.
Some day, my farm will totally have an ornamental water element.
1: Is it cheating to tagback? I read Calah a lot.
2: Ashley at The Green Lady Society. She's a lovely lovely friend of mine who has recently become a yoga instructor.
3: Denise at Lost City Knits. Not only is she a wonderful person, but her hand-dyed yarns are to. die. for. Go buy some.
4: Renee at R&R Casa. She was a fellow English major back in our halcyon college days when our main worries were paper deadlines, and now she has great things to say about incorporating Montessori into the home environment.
5: Ava is my baby niece, and she and Heidi will probably be great friends when they're old enough to play with each other. Her parents allow her to have her own blog, which you can see I won't let Heidi do. One of these days I'll let her type a blog post though.
6: The Rhodes Log is the cyberhome of two fellow English majors who ended up marrying each other and constantly surprise me with their fascination with really excellent and unexpected things like bees.
7: Mariana at Back to the Best is like a little Better Homes and Gardens for newlyweds on a budget. Simultaneously inspiring and gigantically intimidating.
8: Debbie the Laundry Monster Slayer was one of my first knitting friends, and I have to say, knitting friends are different from all the other kinds of friends out there. Crazier, for one.
9: I read Arwen's blog and kind of feel weird about it since I don't know her at all. Stalker-ish, a little. But she just had twins, and they're beautiful little boys, and you should go look at her pictures!
10: And Meghan at Involving the Senses (blogger #2 of this whole darn list that I don't know in person) has lots of eye candy for artsy people.
There are some I would have liked to tag but who haven't posted in well over a year. It makes me sad when some of my favorite writers stop writing.
The end! Please, baby, GO TO SLEEP NOW AND LET ME GO TO BED.
For the record, she's sucking on my knee.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Moving tragedies
(And yes, that pointy silver thing is a knife, because Daddy wanted to see me freak out. Don't worry, I snatched it away as soon as his foot was off it. Hey, when your house is furniture-less, sometimes utensils end up on the floor.)
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