what makes a monday better

Woke up yesterday morning.

It was rainy and dreary. I was determined to make the best of it, but my determination was not so helpful as you might think.

Until I glanced out my window and saw ... kittens!

Couple of jet-black ones.

A calmer, sleepier one.

They were at that amusing stage of kitten-hood in which declaring war on a blade of grass is just about The Most Exciting Thing In The World. A little orange sibling joined in, and then fell off the porch. Twice.

Then one of the black ones realized he was kinda sleepy too.

And then this happened.

Well, THAT was a refreshing nap.

Oh, hello there. We'll just pause while you take a stunningly beautiful photo of our adorable selves.

FAQ:

Where did they come from? I don't know. Under the porch is my best guess.

Where's their mom? I don't know. Perhaps she went off for a well-deserved pedicure.

Did you feed them? No. Are you going to? No.

Did you keep them? *achoo!* um *sniffle* are you insane? *sneeze* Excuse me while my eyes redden and swell.

invisible but audible

The other day I was working in my back yard. A few houses away, invisible but audible through the hedges, a child was playing in his/her back yard.

(I think the child is a boy.)

He's a talker, at any rate.

Non-stop.

His mother, to her credit, responds at regular intervals with a quiet "uh-huh" and "ooohhhhh". Dad is also very patient. His little baby sister apparently is quite contented. Even when she cries, it's a low-pitched, low-maintenance complaint of "mamamamamama". Mostly, the sound is the little boy, talking non-stop.

So I could hear him chatting away, with barely a breath, for an hour or two. Most of the time, I couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but clearly he's got a very active imagination.

At one point there was a pause.

Then a baby girl's low-pitched, low-maintenance wail.

Followed by his mother's quiet query - "What are you doing to her?" ... "Don't do that please."

Baby stopped crying.

Another pause.

And then he started chatting again, with this introduction - "Mom, I'm not going to KILL her. I'm just ...."

----

I wonder if, at that moment, they were startled by their invisible but audible neighbour's laughter through the hedges.

ya wanna buy a ... eggplant?

Who knew a black market for veggies existed??!!!

This year, a group of us has adopted one of the Hamilton Victory Gardens sites. HVG is a whole network of urban gardens, in which everything is donated, and all work is done by volunteers. Every single bit of produce is donated to local food banks.

Except perhaps 1 or 2 cherry tomatoes. I had to test them.

Wait - is this about me?? Oh no. First this, and now this. 

My carefully-woven web of food theft is all falling apart.

It's not about me?

Oh.

Never mind.

Anyway, apparently someone is stealing from a few of the sites. I actually had people ask me at the start of the season - "What if someone steals the food?" My answer had been, "Well then, I presume they're hungry, which is kind of the point. It's not like there's a black market for veggies!!"

But apparently there is.

I can't even get outraged. It's too ridiculous. So I stand, figuratively speaking, hands on hips, eyebrows raised in an expression of disdain, lips sucked in disapprovingly, shaking my head slowly. I have one thing to say to the thieves - "Really? REALLY??"

Meanwhile, if you're buying fresh produce from a shady-looking character with a zucchini tucked into his jacket, maybe consider the source.

best left unsaid

I wrote a phenomenal little rant to be published this morning. It was all about banking and mortgage renewals.

Because there was an earth-shattering kaboom this week in my house when I opened the mail.




 And I was very angry. Very angry indeed.




But it's all fine now. And the tiny voice in my head says I should leave that little rant unpublished. So you're going to have to imagine it.

However, the moral of the story was:

Keep your original documents.

Use a broker.

And never, EVER open your mail.

---

In other news ... I've been watering my new front garden day and night. Turns out mulch makes all the difference in the world. The new plants were dying quickly in this heat. The water appeared to be just landing briefly and running away from them. Mulch makes it stay. Within a few hours, most of them had perked right up. Except one. There's one that is still in critical condition. I'm not sure it's going to make it. Maybe I can find tiny little plant paddles - "clear!"

My north end neighbours are the best. Not just the ones living near me - even the ones walking by - they stop to say how nice it all looks. How much nicer it will be when the desert-like part has new sod.

It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Rage subsiding.

Hooray for gardens and neighbours.

end of the veggies

Well ... the season has ended. The urban veggies season, that is. Leafs season has just begun, but let's not jinx it, OK?

I got celeriac during the final couple of weeks. (Sounds like an illness, doesn't it? It's not.)

I had never heard of celeriac.

It's not pretty. But apparently it's proud of its lack of good looks. It's a very secure vegetable.

So today, I'm boiling and mashing it with some potatoes, as suggested by some Rocket Moms. I'm gonna freeze the mash in little baggies (because I'm the Queen of Baggies) and add the milk, butter, herbs, whatever later. I'll let you know how it tastes.

Meanwhile - this whole urban-farming locally-grown weekly-vegetable-share thing has been so very fun.  Along with lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, green beans, onions, green onions, a variety of potatoes and zucchini - which I was familiar with - I also got a multitude of greens I knew nothing of, Jerusalem artichokes, leeks, purple beans, squash, eggplant and ... are you ready for this ... zucchini blossoms!!

Yes. I prepared and ate flowers.

They were yummy.

And radishes!!! Mmm, they were good too. I was completely unaware that radishes could taste good.

I'm fully stocked up on garlic for the winter. I pickled some hot peppers. I froze dill, pesto and parsley, along with a TON of soups. I dried and layered eggplant slices with fresh garlic and basil, packed in olive oil. You already know what I did with the beets. Oh, the beets. I substituted in some parsnips for carrots into my favourite beef stew, and no one knew the difference. I dumped some plum preserves into a squash during the last few minutes of baking it. And I didn't eat peas and corn once during the whole summer.

In my food enthusiasm I also canned. And I made jam. To be fair, the canning and jamming weren't all from the urban-farming produce. It just got me in the mood.

So I'm definitely signing up next year. Now that I know what I'm doing (sort of), I'll miss the fun of holding something in my hand and Googling images to figure out what in the heck it is. But ... permit me some quick sentimentality ... I really enjoyed picking up my food each week, wondering what would be there and what I would do with it, chatting with my urban farmer friend, his family, and his other customers.

It's WAY better than grocery shopping.

And I'm pretty sure my rural-farmer-Grandma would be quietly proud. She wouldn't have SAID so ... she was a little stoic ... but I'd know.

So ... if you're interested in the details of my summer with veggies, just hit that "food" label to the side. Or try "moments in my garden". (I co-opted posts about Russ's urban farming into that "my garden" label, which is quite a ridiculous stretch of the definition of "my".) Or you can search any word you like and see what pops up. I almost always linked to the recipes I used, if they were online.

Excuse me - I need to mash things now.

plums and neighbours

My neighbour is a genius.

She and I exchange comments on Facebook from time to time. (Pause to consider the oddness of that, since our front porches almost face each other ... but we talk on Facebook. Go ahead ... mutter something along the lines of "what is this world coming to." There. Done? OK. At least we talk. Do you talk to your neighbour? Mmmhmmm.)

She redid her entire front lawn into an edible garden last year. I, on the other hand, put some real effort into tackling the weeds in my front lawn this year, and accidentally killed it. The whole thing. Also, I hired three different people to cut it, and they all got better jobs and abandoned me.

So this year ... yup, I'm "that" neighbour. With the horrible front lawn. It's embarrassing.

A month or two ago, she posted a question about beets. I passed along the recipe that had been passed along to me. It involved mint leaves. Which, coincidentally, is the only thing growing in abundance in my back yard this year. I happily told her to help herself, but please don't judge my sad, non-productive tomato plants. She generously brought me some tomatoes. Spike, in return, offered her some of my pickled beets.

He didn't realize we were out of pickled beets.

So he enthusiastically gave her a jar of plum preserves, which frightened me slightly. It was my first year making plum preserves. And I had discovered that unlike tomato butter, which never thickens as much as you think it will, plum preserves do. And they continue thickening after you've taken them off the stove. So my plum preserves are a fairly solid creation. Tasty, yes. But solid.

Anyway.

Do you know what my genius of a neighbour did?

Took a round of Brie. Sliced it in half. Spread plum preserves on the bottom half. Topped it with the top half. Baked until gooey. And served with a baguette.

Genius.

vacation moments

I've been on vacation.

As you are by now aware, we hung out with the Punk, J-Blu and the Bean for a weekend. Tremendous fun. Moment of Note: When the Bean - who ate less than any of us at the Mandarin - solemnly looked down at his full belly and declared, "I did NOT come in with this."

We went shopping. Cross-border shopping. I know, it's evil. And for the record - I've never done it before. But I'm probably going to do it again. I don't LIKE shopping, but somewhat cheaper prices, a wider selection and an overnight in another town with Spike - yeah, I'm definitely doing that again.

We went to dinner with friends, also a just-the-two-of-them family, like us. Moment of Note: When the waiter asked him (of the just-the-two) how he could afford his electronic gadgetry habit, she (of the just-the-two) instantly responded, "We don't have kids." The waiter's eyebrows shot up - "That's the best answer I've ever heard," he said. Then he wistfully explained that his Italian mama probably wouldn't go for that idea.

We went to Gravenhurst to visit Spike's sister and her man, and there ... we went to see their show (which was quite fun) ... and we read books (I'll have to update that list on the right now) ... and we slept ... and ate smoked trout and blueberry pancakes. Although not at the same time. That would be gross. Oh, and we ALSO were taken here to enjoy a dinner that certainly was created in heaven, using a beautiful little restaurant in Orillia as a front. (pause to drool at the memory of exquisitely-prepared Rosemary Lamb Shank ... mmmmm ... )

Spike had to go back to work a few days before me, so I dropped him there early Monday morning, and thought ... "Hmmm ... I think I'll do some canning."

Who does that on a whim??!! Apparently I do.

Two and a half days. No TV, radio, or internet in the background. No one called or texted. Just the sound of me canning tomatoes, tomato butter, peaches, plum preserves and hot peppers; I also froze blackberry jam from my very own bush in my very own garden. And at the end - rows of shiny jars, a task fully completed. That's better than therapy, baby!

Moment of Note: discovering that the the medicated ointment I bought at a cleaning party several years ago, really DOES work miracles when one splashes a litre or so of boiling water on one's upper half.

Another Moment of Note: discovering that an underpad, tablecloth and thick bath towel are not enough to stop full jars, just removed from a boiling water bath, from wrecking your table.

Yes.

I wrecked the table.

And then I went back to work.

bees

I was sitting outside early this morning with my coffee, my journal, and my phones, both cell and landline. (Phones were in case Spike called or texted. Which he did. And that was nice.)

Morning glory has grown rapidly up its tower, as it always does. Just two blooms though. I keep reminding myself that it's only early August. It will bloom in a few weeks. And yet I don't even see any blooms in process. Where are the flowers?

Then I think about my tomatoes which have been incredibly non-productive this year. They didn't grow more than a foot high, and I got a grand total of 6 marble-size tomatoes from 4 plants. Nothing else is happening. I think they were upset about the loss of the tree. They didn't WANT more sunshine, no matter what the experts say.

Then I think back to our days of living near High Park, in Toronto. Good days. Very good days. We loved living there. In fact, that was our all-time favourite place we had ever lived ... until this place where we live now. We lived on a 3rd-floor walk-up in an old, giant house. There wasn't a balcony, but there was a roof ledge outside a window, with a little decorative wall across it. Just big enough to hold a couple of tomato plants. They grew huge, but not a single tomato did they yield. I finally realized - I should have sent a memo out to the bees that there were tomatoes way up high among the trees, and those tomatoes needed some pollinating.

Which reminded me of that movie - Bees, was it? - where there weren't enough bees to pollinate plants, and everything was dying. And then I remembered my sister saying something about a world shortage of bees for the Punk's lizard to eat. (Oh wait, that's crickets, not bees. Never mind.)

Still. What if there is a tremendous bee blight going on, which is stopping my morning glory from blooming, and my tomatoes from yielding a harvest of any kind? What if we just can't grow food anymore, because the bees are all gone?

I thought about that for awhile, outside in my garden, sipping my coffee this morning.

And then a bee flew directly into my head and got tangled in my hair, while I frantically (but silently) flailed my arms around to get it out, GET IT OUT!

And thus ended my morning meditation.

strong enough for a man ... but for a yard-working woman? maybe not.

It's good that this space is a virtual connection. Because if you were with me right now in the non-virtual world, I suspect your eyebrows would be slightly raised, and you would be holding a delicately scented handkerchief to your nose.

Here's the thing. I got up super-early (and I do mean early) to take Spike to work. Came home as the sun came up and went straight to work, worked for hours, on a day that just kept getting hotter. I mulched. I hoed. I raked. I weeded. I mulched some more. I lopped. I trimmed trees that were beating on the roof of the garage. I bundled them all with twine and took them to the curb. I also successfully avoided the door-to-door literature-distributing pair that was slowly making their way down the street. When I sit on the far side of my back deck, I can't hear anyone knocking at the front door, and I can't be easily seen from the side gate.

I am now in serious need of a shower, what with the stunning combination of dirt and sweat that I have accumulated, but a shower requires movement, and I'm not sure I have the energy. It would be a real shame if I drowned in my shower at the end of such a high-accomplishment day, simply because I was too tired to breathe air. On the other hand, I still have to go pick up my weekly veggies. My urban farmer friend is fairly easy-going, but in my current state even his limits might well be tested. Plus I'm out of milk for coffee - which is an essential thing in my world - so once I get my butt out there to pick up my veggies, I'm heading to a grocery store too.

*sigh* I'm going to have to shower, aren't I?

Listen, maybe check in on me some time this week. If I don't respond, I've drowned, and my water bill is going to be a doozy.

spike, beets and a nap

Spike came home last night! Hooray!

He's gone again, of course. But he got to share in my ongoing food experiment. Plus he barbequed sausages, which was a very lovely addition to my veggies.

For the record - spinach with olive oil and sauteed garlic - has potential, but I didn't love it. I wanted to. It smelled good. I think I cooked it too long. And had too much olive oil. It wasn't awful - just wasn't great.

But the beets!

You won't believe what I did with the beets. Well, one of you will, because you made the suggestion. Yes, the giver of this recipe can be found at his blog from time to time. We've never met in person. But I've been assured by a flesh-and-blood Spike and his sister that he is indeed a real boy.

And here's what he said to do with the beets:

Boil until soft. Peel. Slice very thin. Pour some olive oil and balsamic on a platter. Place beets on said platter. Top with more olive oil and lots of mint leaves and black pepper. Let sit for 20 minutes. Squeeze some lemon on it and have lunch.

So. Very. Yummy.

Even Spike said so.

P.S. Yesterday, after planting a tree, I wandered around the yard. I had woken up too early for a day off, in order to take Spike to work. I began to nod off in a patio chair, and finally pulled the cushion off the chair, onto the deck, in the shade of the big tree. Laid down. Woke up 2 1/2 hours later.

It was heavenly.

pink on my property

It started as a typical Sunday.

5 AM - Alarm
8 AM (or just after) - Arrive at work
10:34 AM - Service begins
Noon - Service ends
1 PM - Lunch
3 PM - Home, sleepy, for a couple of hours before heading back. But before I crash ... gotta water my tomato plants.

Head to the back veggie garden, water the tomatoes. Slowly realize I am staring at a wall that I'm not usually staring at. It's on the other side of the street which runs in front of the house whose back yard backs onto our back yard. And I don't usually stare at it because there is usually a wall of foliage at the back of my back yard that blocks it.

????

Look around. Look up. Look down. Wasn't there something here? Did the neighbour behind me clear up foliage? Because I really thought there was something on my side of the old chain link fence. And when did this tree stump and fresh wood chips appear? Bewildered gestures, as I slowly realize - somebody cut down my tree!

No one is in the back yard into which I am now staring, a yard which I have never clearly seen before. Next door to them, a couple of adults are swimming in a new pool. Their back yard backs onto our garage, beside the vegetable garden. They don't notice me. Their foliage is mostly still intact.

I head inside, tell Spike, and we both stare in amazement from our kitchen through the hole to the other side. "What are ya gonna do?" he asked. "Well, I don't want to start a war," I said. "I guess I'll call the city tomorrow, and talk to by-law people and ask them how I should handle it."

I paused. "The people in the pool behind-and-beside might have seen something. Maybe I'll just ask them if they know anything."

Back outside, peer through their foliage and tentatively call towards the pool - "Hello? Hi. I know this is weird ... sorry ... it's just ... I had a tree here ... " another bewildered gesture ... "and I'm just wondering if you have any idea what happened?"

Lady shoots meaningful look to her husband, silently points at him, and he says, "Um ... I cut it down. I knocked, but no one was home."

"But ... it's ... why would you ... ??!!??" I ask in shock.

"It was just a weed," he says.

"I have a 7-inch tree stump here," I say.

"Well, yeah, but it was just one of those wild maples ... It just was sort of ... I knocked, but no one was home." He smiles shamefacedly.  "Forgiveness? The good news is it'll grow back ... "

"Well ... sure, forgiveness ... I mean ... well, next time, maybe couldja get permission first??!!"

"Sure, yeah, sorry ... it just was kinda wild looking ... and I knocked, but no one was home ..."

"... OK, but it's just ... well, I value my privacy ...." I leave hanging the unspoken sentence that the reason we've never met is because of the wall of foliage. And the tree isn't even bordering his property at all. It's between me and his next-door neighbour. And it's MY WEED-TREE!!

So I head back inside, and Spike says, "Well, THAT'S not OK." "Well, it's done now," I say. And we go to sleep.

An hour later, a knock at the door. I ain't getting up for nobody but Spike answers, to a chorus of, "We're sorry! We're so sorry. We bought you a tree."

They introduce themselves, which brings the number of neighbours named Mike to 5. Spike sputters thanks and introduces himself, and they said, "Your wife was just so disturbed about her privacy. And she was just so nice about it, she didn't yell or anything. We're so sorry. We're sorry."

I went out and planted it at 6:30 AM today, chuckling to myself, because this is going to make a great post for my blog. I'll probably take over some pickled beets later today, as a gesture of forgiveness.

Guy directly behind us offered a rather startled "morning" as he came out his back door and saw me where a wall of foliage used to be. I suspect he's wondering what happened too. I'll let him find out on his own that his next-door neighbour had a moment of insanity and chopped down the foliage between us.

And here's the irony. It's a flowering almond. With, according to the tag, large bright pink double blooms. Pink.

I'm going to have to forgive him over and over again.

we need a crow

I went to pick up my weekly share of veggies yesterday. Met a cute little guy who I'll call ... um ...  the Tousled Tot. Because his hair was perfectly tousled. His eyes were wide and blue. And he was just lovely all around. When I said, "Hello, I'm Patti - it's nice to meet you," he answered, "Fine." Obviously, I was supposed to ask how he was - my bad.

Talked with a few of the grownups about what was growing in my yard. Herbs ... tomatoes ... strawberries ... rhubarb. The Tousled Tot took it all in, eyes wide and blue.

After a few minutes, I went over to the rows of milk crates and loaded up my bag with greens, radishes and rhubarb, and headed out. The Tousled Tot followed me. "Um ... Patti," he said in a clear voice, eyes wide and blue. I politely stopped and came down to his level. "Yes?" I said.

"I was thinking, that next time you come, on the next Share Day ... we could go strawberry picking." (Intelligent being that I am, I realized he meant in my yard.) "What a great idea!" I said. "I love strawberry picking." He nodded happily.

"But," I said, "you know what? The problem I have is that birds keep eating my strawberries before I pick them." He frowned in concern. "Weird, huh?" "Yes," he said. He thought about it.

And then he brightened. "Maybe you should get a crow. Other birds are scared of crows. Just one crow." "You think that would help?" I asked. "Yes," he said. "Try it." "Thanks for the tip," I said.  He smiled, waved, and walked away.

I might be in love.

veggies for me

If you're a relatively new reader, you may not know the background to this story. It's here. The urban farmer that I met from that ad could not use our yard for growing veggies. It's too shady. (Which explains my lack of success.)

BUT - he's been successful in other yards. And this year I bought a season's worth of locally-grown vegetables. I pick them up each week, from his own back yard, which is literally around the corner from where I work.

Last week was the first week. It was very exciting. I ventured into his back yard, where a chalkboard identified each item, and gave clear directions. To my left were two rows of milk crates, one row above the other. Each milk crate had a different item, all the produce divided into individual portions. It was simple enough - my "for one" share says I can have one from each milk crate.

Here's what I walked away with.

Arugula

Tatsoi

Spinach

Beet Greens

Green Garlic

Rhubarb

Cilantro

Lemon Balm

Ate a whopping couple of salads from that, with the addition of some locally-grown strawberries I bought, and some toasted almonds. I was so nutrified last week, I could hardly stand it.

I was going to make this ... but I didn't get around to it. Life happened.

But I did make some rhubarb crisp.

Used this recipe ... and to be honest ... not my favourite recipe. Too much crisp. And too much sugar. I like the tartness of rhubarb. It was still good though. I'm not saying I didn't eat it. Because I did.

Today I go for Week 2. I don't know if it will be more of the same - I kind of hope so - I'd like to try again with that recipe I didn't get around to. But if it's different, I'll Google some more recipes and let you know how it goes.

And for the record ... some of my very own homegrown rhubarb went into the rhubarb crisp too. So I can honestly put a "moments in my garden" label on this post.

academic update

Remember the crusty professor I mentioned earlier?  You will remember that "crusty" was a compliment, by the way.

Final exam is next week, so the class is almost over. Spent a few minutes chatting with him after class this week, despite my intention to stay below the radar.

Great conversation. Academically - I'm into Sociology, and he's into Anthropology. Spiritually - I'm into Christianity, and he's into Animism.  But - I think we agreed that people need to learn to think outside their own boxes - and that "making a difference" in whatever context you're in is a good thing. And for what it's worth - I honestly think he'd be the perfect next-door neighbour.

I've finally managed to figure out what courses I need and don't need, in order to graduate in a few years. Turns out I didn't need this one, but I'm glad I took it anyway. I don't need the one I had signed up for after this, so I dropped it. There are no courses in Term 2 this summer that will be helpful to me. And I'm off to Ukraine again for a few weeks mid-semester in the fall, so I'm not going to try to take a course around that.

So after next Wednesday, I'm academically relaxing until January. I probably wouldn't have chosen to. But I'll freely confess I'm glad for the break.


I'm tired.


And my garden is calling me. By the way, did I tell you I built a rock wall in my garden last week? I'm very proud. Pics to come, after the exam.

the plan

Remember this?

Well, now it's almost two years later, and my plan appears to be working. It's not a MWA-HAHAHAHA evil kind of plan. Although it would be, if poly-gnomials were involved.

Nope, it was this plan: "OK, take a deep breath and spend a little money on your front garden, and in a few years, you will be able to split the plants and distribute them in various corners of the back yard." One makes a plan like that, but it's still a little painful at the time, especially when Spike professes faith in the plan, but I think he secretly doubts. (No, he didn't. He never doubts my plans. Never, ever. He's good like that.)

So yesterday, Spike was briefly between tours and roofs, and he good-naturedly split some daisies and dug some holes for me. AND ... not only then was I able to spread out some plants and improve a few more corners for no money at all ... pause to happy dance ... but I also swapped some daisies for some other plants with two different neighbours.

Which goes back to one of my philosophies of life. Anyone that has a nice garden - is very likely a good neighbour. It doesn't mean gardeners are necessarily outgoing, friendly, block-party types. But we like digging in dirt and watching things quietly grow, and we just love when someone else notices (yesterday, a complete stranger walked by and said, "Nice job, folks, it looks great, you've really fixed things up" and it made me feel all warm inside), and then we share our garden secrets and perennial splittings, and THEN -- we go back to our own yards and leave each other in peace.

Which about suits me perfectly.

studious gardener

Studying. Final exam is on Saturday morning.

But yesterday I did part of my studying outside, and I couldn't help but gaze longingly at my gardens where strawberries are spreading, rhubarb is returning, and chives are ... um ... what can chives do? I welcome your input.

At one point, text book in my left hand, I reached over with my right to "just move a few leaves," and then withdrew it immediately, realizing I would never stop of my own volition.

Contented myself with the promise that on Saturday afternoon, assuming Mother Nature cooperates, I can pull out all the stops and immerse myself once again in the land of dirt and allergies. The land where things just magically grow and change and bloom and live.

Until then ... don't distract me ... I'm studying.

a light at the end

Our impromptu renovations are slowly being completed. We may have a dining room back by the end of this week.



Easter has come and gone, preceded by a whirlwind of practices and intense work, culminating in a really fun celebration on Sunday morning.



My garden is beginning to grow. I've had coffee out on the deck several mornings this past week. Those few minutes of morning peace feed my soul.



Lectures are over, just one more review, and final exam in less than two weeks. Lots of studying to do to get there, but that'll happen.



I went running today. My calves protested a bit, but the sound of my own breath in my ears, and the sense of my body working while my mind slowly began to unwind, was very welcome.



As Spike pointed out to me this morning, I have my dream home (small and dusty though it is), my garden, a great job and people in my life whom I love and who love me. I have a lot for which to be thankful.



All this to say ... there's a light at the end of this particular tunnel.



For which I am very grateful.



Also ... a bird crapped on one of Spike's spikes this morning, out there on the deck. Which was pretty darn funny.

time to get warm!

It's May 31. Who do I need to speak to about this weather? It's chilly out there this morning, my friends.

Thought I'd give you a garden update. Because I know how deeply you care. (Remember, on this blog, we pretend to care about my garden, just out of courtesy. It's awfully nice of you to go along with that.)

Planted:

• green beans
• yellow beans
• strawberries
• rhubarb
• tomatoes
• watermelon
• lettuce
• fancy lettuce
• spinach
• more ivy
• more moss
• various flowers in various pots and hanging baskets

Transplanted

• A houseplant that does well in the shade outside. Don't know it's name.
• hens and chicks (I'm really learning to love those things; they need no attention at all and happily spread wherever you ask them to.)
• oregano
• blackberry bush

Disappeared

• the kittens

I have also trellised, hoed, dug, weeded, trimmed, lopped, bundled and collected rain water. And stared. I stare at dirt a lot at this time of year, willing seeds to sprout.

And I'm a little concerned that last night's storm - spectacular as it was - may have overwhelmed and drowned a few tender seeds that were only planted a few hours before it rolled in.

Still. A spectacular storm is not a bad trade-off for spinach.

kittens!

Last evening, I glanced out my patio door, and saw movement in my veggie garden. And by veggie garden, I mean rectangular area of dirt, yet to be planted. Took a closer look (we've had bunnies before, to my delight) and saw ... ohmygosh ... kittens!

Five perfect little furballs, exploring their 3-inch high world. They aren't walking yet, so much as doing those four-legged leaps that make them so darn adorable. Clover was an obstacle to jump over, a patio stone was a mountain to climb, and the forget-me-nots a jungle in which to get lost. Every now and then, one of them would bat a leaf (or another kitten) and then bounce around with excitement.

Mama cat eyed me firmly, then wandered off. (I suspect she was thankful for a babysitter so she could get out for awhile.)

With Mama out of the way, I made my way slowly closer to these joyful little piles of fluff. But Mama has them well-trained - they tolerated me up until about five feet away, and then silently withdrew in unison, backing into the bushes. I squatted down and waited, and a few minutes later - pop! - the bravest of them poked her head up just high enough to see if I was still there. Giggles on my part.

This morning, I didn't see them. Until Mama returned, eyed me again, and then went into the bushes to wake up and feed her little brood. This time there were only four. And then she led one of them away through the hedge.

Tonight - they're all gone.

But my smile is still here.

answering an ad

I was reading the classifieds on the weekend. I like to see what people have for sale. I never, ever buy anything, although I came close once when I saw incredibly low-priced mason jars listed. Alas, they were already gone.

The most interesting ones are the $5 ads. You know - $5 for a leisure suit, size 12. Or $5 for yarn. (Yarn. Try saying "yarn" over and over, slowly. Sounds weird, doesn't it? What an odd word. Now it's stuck in your head for the day.)

It's not that they're not good deals. It just would never, ever occur to me to sell off my leisure suits, one at a time, in the classifieds. My theory is, it's a form of entertainment to the vendors - they just rotate obscure items they own through the ads, to see if anyone wants what they have. If not - no harm done - the ads are free. If someone calls - well, hey, you've made $5.

Anyway. I'm feeling adventurous today. I'm gonna answer an ad, right after I finish this post. It's not a "for sale" item. It's a "wanted" item. A new local food producer is looking for back yards for "eating locally - growing locally".

Imagine the possibilities. My back yard, transformed into a beautiful, bounteous paradise, full of tender berries and brightly-coloured vegetables. The stones that have drifted by the thousands from the invisible "driveway" into the yard over the years, all miraculously disappear. Crabgrass is a thing of the past. And I am an urban hero, growing food aplenty for the masses, and maybe making a little money too.

Then there are the less-appealing possibilities. People I don't know in my back yard at all hours. *shudder* This is my safe space, my alone space, my very favourite place from April to September, and I would hate to give it up to ... you know ... strangers.

So, I'm sending a cautious email response. "Looking for more information."

Meanwhile - I have a "like-new" soap dish, burgundy. $5 obo. Call me.