While waiting on the afore-mentioned plumber (see previous post), I worked in the garden. Fertilized the tomatoes, squash, and peppers, did more weeding, moved the remaining tomatoes from the potting soil bags to the garden, and tilled the bean/pea rows. The garden now looks respectable. I should've taken a picture, because it probably won't be this clean again this season.
The garden needs some corn, if only to make it look like a "real" garden. There's an empty spot where two closely-set rows of corn could go. I know the raccoons will only get the corn if I plant it, but I think I'll do it, anyway (tomorrow).
Having showered and changed clothes, I am now working on another project: downing a very large gin & tonic - to ease the aches and pains, you know. Everything hurts but my hair.
The plumber still hasn't arrived.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Dementia Chronology, Part I
This morning, as usual, I poured my first cup of coffee and sat down at my desk to read the news, check e-mail, and such. Ordinarily, I'd be dressed and on my way to work by now, but I'm home this morning, waiting on a plumber to show up, and so I sat here a little longer than usual, doing stuff I don't normally have time to do this time of day (like writing blog entries).
About an hour ago, my growling stomach pushed me to the kitchen to find something to eat. I wanted eggs. On my way past the stove, I snatched up the egg skillet, still slightly crusty from yesterday's egg, and took it to the sink to wash it. There were a few dishes in the sink. I decided that I might as well put them in the dishwasher. I opened the dishwasher. It was half full of clean dishes. I sighed, and began to unload the clean dishes so that I could put in the dirty ones.
There were two empty Mason jars in the dishwasher. The place where I keep Mason jars, both full ones and empty ones, is in another room, so I set the jars on the counter, intending to put them where they belong when I finished putting away the dishes.
While I was loading the dirty dishes, a fly lit on the dishwasher door. I threw a quick glance toward the fly-swatter spot; it wasn't there, nor was it in any of the other places that I find it when it's not where it's supposed to be. As I hate flies with a passion that exceeds normality, I stopped what I was doing to look for the fly-swatter.
He was a bold fly, I'll give him that. My moving around the kitchen did not startle him one bit, and he sat right where he was while I scooted chairs and opened drawers. With the fly-swatter missing in action, I had to find something else with which to smack him. There was some mail on the kitchen table. I fished around in the pile until I found an envelope with just enough heft for a quick blow. Miraculously, I got him with the first whack. I tossed the envelope into the garbage can, fly and all, and went back to the sink to wash my hands and finish loading the dishwasher.
There sat the two Mason jars. I grabbed them up and took them to the cabinet. How could it be that there was no place to set them, considering that I'd just taken them out two days ago and hadn't put anything else in their places? I set them on the floor while I re-arranged the jars in the cabinet to make room for them. When they were safely inside, I went back to the kitchen, closed the dishwasher, rinsed out the sink, grabbed up the clean egg skillet, and shoved it in the pots-and-pans cabinet.
While I had been doing all of these things, a sub-story had been running in my background thoughts, a pondering of those two berry-like things I'd seen on the potato plants yesterday. I'd Googled them after coming in from the garden, (they are seeds, by the way) but by that time I'd been so tired that I hadn't really absorbed much of what I'd read. I decided to have another look at the page I'd pulled up last night.
As I waited for the page to load, my stomach growled again.
I want eggs.
Wish me better luck, this time.
About an hour ago, my growling stomach pushed me to the kitchen to find something to eat. I wanted eggs. On my way past the stove, I snatched up the egg skillet, still slightly crusty from yesterday's egg, and took it to the sink to wash it. There were a few dishes in the sink. I decided that I might as well put them in the dishwasher. I opened the dishwasher. It was half full of clean dishes. I sighed, and began to unload the clean dishes so that I could put in the dirty ones.
There were two empty Mason jars in the dishwasher. The place where I keep Mason jars, both full ones and empty ones, is in another room, so I set the jars on the counter, intending to put them where they belong when I finished putting away the dishes.
While I was loading the dirty dishes, a fly lit on the dishwasher door. I threw a quick glance toward the fly-swatter spot; it wasn't there, nor was it in any of the other places that I find it when it's not where it's supposed to be. As I hate flies with a passion that exceeds normality, I stopped what I was doing to look for the fly-swatter.
He was a bold fly, I'll give him that. My moving around the kitchen did not startle him one bit, and he sat right where he was while I scooted chairs and opened drawers. With the fly-swatter missing in action, I had to find something else with which to smack him. There was some mail on the kitchen table. I fished around in the pile until I found an envelope with just enough heft for a quick blow. Miraculously, I got him with the first whack. I tossed the envelope into the garbage can, fly and all, and went back to the sink to wash my hands and finish loading the dishwasher.
There sat the two Mason jars. I grabbed them up and took them to the cabinet. How could it be that there was no place to set them, considering that I'd just taken them out two days ago and hadn't put anything else in their places? I set them on the floor while I re-arranged the jars in the cabinet to make room for them. When they were safely inside, I went back to the kitchen, closed the dishwasher, rinsed out the sink, grabbed up the clean egg skillet, and shoved it in the pots-and-pans cabinet.
While I had been doing all of these things, a sub-story had been running in my background thoughts, a pondering of those two berry-like things I'd seen on the potato plants yesterday. I'd Googled them after coming in from the garden, (they are seeds, by the way) but by that time I'd been so tired that I hadn't really absorbed much of what I'd read. I decided to have another look at the page I'd pulled up last night.
As I waited for the page to load, my stomach growled again.
I want eggs.
Wish me better luck, this time.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
June 21 - Okra, Kohlrabi, and Squash
On this longest day of 2011, it was a relatively cool evening, good for doing a little garden maintenance.
I planted more okra, filling in the skips of the original rows. I also planted a package of kohlrabi seeds that my daughter-in-law gave me. Who knows what kohlrabi is, or how to grow it, or how to cook it? Not I! But I had the seeds, so what the heck. I also planted three more hills of crookneck squash, hoping to extend the picking when the original squash plants poop out.
I chopped/pulled grass out of the onions and potatoes until I thought my arms would fall off, and still didn't finish weeding those rows. Most of the potato plants have shriveled up, which I suppose means the potatoes are ready to dig. The withered purple potato tops have the strangest things on them - two hard, greenish little "berries," the size of cherry tomatoes. No clue what these things are, unless they're seed pods. Do potatoes make seed pods?
Verdict - Tomatoes in Potting Soil Bags: Over a month ago, we planted a few tomatoes directly in 1.5 cu. ft. bags of potting soil. We set two plants per bag. Maybe our bags of dirt weren't big enough, but these tomatoe plants have just been sitting there, doing nothing except trying to die, despite the fact that we've kept them well watered. I have been threatening to dig them out and plant them in the ground, and tonight I did that with some of them. When I pulled them out, they were like bonsai tomatoes, small and heavily rooted, but ancient. Hopefully, they'll take a growing spurt and make some tomatoes before the summer is over.
Most of the other tomato plants are, thankfully, doing well. Some have green tomatoes big enough to fry, but we never fry any green ones until we've had at least a taste of a ripe one. It seems that my "attack the problem before it starts" regimen of spraying fungicide has worked this year, as we don't have any blight so far (knock on wood). I need to dose them again, as we've had a good bit of rain during the past couple of weeks.
As I was chopping today, I un-earthed a few worrisome-looking worms, some green with black stripes, and some plain green. Cabbage worms, I'm guessing. If I can move my limbs tomorrow after all the chopping, I'll go back to the garden and sprinkle some insecticide before these worms find the garden plants.
I planted more okra, filling in the skips of the original rows. I also planted a package of kohlrabi seeds that my daughter-in-law gave me. Who knows what kohlrabi is, or how to grow it, or how to cook it? Not I! But I had the seeds, so what the heck. I also planted three more hills of crookneck squash, hoping to extend the picking when the original squash plants poop out.
I chopped/pulled grass out of the onions and potatoes until I thought my arms would fall off, and still didn't finish weeding those rows. Most of the potato plants have shriveled up, which I suppose means the potatoes are ready to dig. The withered purple potato tops have the strangest things on them - two hard, greenish little "berries," the size of cherry tomatoes. No clue what these things are, unless they're seed pods. Do potatoes make seed pods?
Verdict - Tomatoes in Potting Soil Bags: Over a month ago, we planted a few tomatoes directly in 1.5 cu. ft. bags of potting soil. We set two plants per bag. Maybe our bags of dirt weren't big enough, but these tomatoe plants have just been sitting there, doing nothing except trying to die, despite the fact that we've kept them well watered. I have been threatening to dig them out and plant them in the ground, and tonight I did that with some of them. When I pulled them out, they were like bonsai tomatoes, small and heavily rooted, but ancient. Hopefully, they'll take a growing spurt and make some tomatoes before the summer is over.
Most of the other tomato plants are, thankfully, doing well. Some have green tomatoes big enough to fry, but we never fry any green ones until we've had at least a taste of a ripe one. It seems that my "attack the problem before it starts" regimen of spraying fungicide has worked this year, as we don't have any blight so far (knock on wood). I need to dose them again, as we've had a good bit of rain during the past couple of weeks.
As I was chopping today, I un-earthed a few worrisome-looking worms, some green with black stripes, and some plain green. Cabbage worms, I'm guessing. If I can move my limbs tomorrow after all the chopping, I'll go back to the garden and sprinkle some insecticide before these worms find the garden plants.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Undercover Yard Man
Not to be out-done by his father, The Husband fashioned his own gnat shield from the mosquito net of a canvas gazebo that collapsed under last winter's snow.
Shhhhh...don't tell him I posted this. ;)
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Mosquito Net
We think that this year's gnat plague may have been spawned by the flooding of the Mississippi river, for it seems that the closer one gets to the river, the thicker the gnat swarms are. We are not far from the river - maybe less than a mile as the crow (or gnat) flies - and, as I have been complaining, the gnats are swarming us something awful when we try to work in the garden. They aim straight for our faces, and fly up our noses, in our ears, in our mouths and eyes. It's hard to work for shooing/swatting the little monsters.
Pop-Pop has come up with an elegantly simple way to counter the problem, a hunter's camouflage head cover made of green netting. Wednesday afternoon, he came riding out to the garden on his scooter, sporting his new net, looking all smug. "You need to get yourself one of these," he told me as he came to a stop beside me.
"You do look very stylish," I replied.
A minute later, I heard him say, "Uh-oh, got a problem." I looked over at him. He had a cigarette in his hand, which he brought toward his mouth, which was blocked by the net. "Need to cut me a hole so I can smoke," he said.
"If you do, the gnats will fly straight down your throat, and you'll look perpetually surprised." :-o
A few seconds later, I heard him chuckle and say, "Problem solved." He'd stuffed the cigarette, net and all, into his mouth and was smoking it through the net. Problem solved, indeed.
Last night, when I told this story to my sister-in-law, she suggested that we should put some lips on the outside of his net. I bet I can find some red felt among my sewing supplies. Now, if we can just catch him napping....
Pop-Pop has come up with an elegantly simple way to counter the problem, a hunter's camouflage head cover made of green netting. Wednesday afternoon, he came riding out to the garden on his scooter, sporting his new net, looking all smug. "You need to get yourself one of these," he told me as he came to a stop beside me.
A minute later, I heard him say, "Uh-oh, got a problem." I looked over at him. He had a cigarette in his hand, which he brought toward his mouth, which was blocked by the net. "Need to cut me a hole so I can smoke," he said.
"If you do, the gnats will fly straight down your throat, and you'll look perpetually surprised." :-o
A few seconds later, I heard him chuckle and say, "Problem solved." He'd stuffed the cigarette, net and all, into his mouth and was smoking it through the net. Problem solved, indeed.
Last night, when I told this story to my sister-in-law, she suggested that we should put some lips on the outside of his net. I bet I can find some red felt among my sewing supplies. Now, if we can just catch him napping....
Friday, June 3, 2011
Peas
Another afternoon of tilling and planting has filled most of the garden rows and made the place look considerably more respectable. Nanny and I planted two rows of purple-hull peas, three rows of black-eyed peas, and one row of butterpeas. When I leave work today, I'm going in search of a few jalapeno pepper plants, which should about fill the remaining empty space in the garden.
The purple-hull pea seeds came from Nanny's freezer, remnants of last year's pea crop - straggler pods that dried on the vines. The butterpea seeds were left-overs from a previous year that I found in my freezer. Nanny wondered if we should thaw and/or soak the seeds before planting them. I have heard that freezing seeds before planting them helps them germinate; supposedly, the moisture they release as they thaw helps the process. We'll see.
The purple-hull pea seeds came from Nanny's freezer, remnants of last year's pea crop - straggler pods that dried on the vines. The butterpea seeds were left-overs from a previous year that I found in my freezer. Nanny wondered if we should thaw and/or soak the seeds before planting them. I have heard that freezing seeds before planting them helps them germinate; supposedly, the moisture they release as they thaw helps the process. We'll see.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
A little maintenance....
Yesterday my boss turned me loose from work a little early. I came straight home, changed clothes, grabbed my hat, gloves, and a jug of iced water, and went to the garden. A combination of bad weather and a case of bronchitis had kept me from doing all but the most necessary maintenance. (Heck, I still hadn't (haven't) even planted everything I intended to grow!) The garden was a grassy mess. I dragged Mr. Easy from the shed and went to work.
It was HOT yesterday, probably still close to 90 degrees when I started. Pop-Pop's big fan was running full blast in his workshop. I'd till a while, and then go drink a glass of water in front of the fan. During my first break, Nanny came out to look for me. "I heard the tiller quit," she said, "but couldn't see you from the kitchen window. I was scared you'd fell out!"
"Not yet," I told her.
A few minutes after I went back to work, I looked up to find Nanny in the garden, hoeing the grass that I hadn't been able to reach with the tiller. Bless her! While she did the weeding, I finished the tilling and planted two rows of green beans. A little while later, my daughter-in-law and grandson showed up. They helped us plant more tomatoes. Still later, The Husband arrived on his bicycle, and he helped by watering the tomatoes and dusting the squash plants with insecticide powder. It was just about to get dark by the time we finished putting the tools away.
All this time, I'd seen nothing of Pop-Pop. Just as we were preparing to quit for the day, he and The Nephew drove up, towing a lawnmower on a trailer. Pop-Pop went straight into the house. Nanny explained that they'd gone to mow the yard of a friend who has been under the weather. "He must be in pain," I told Nanny, "else he'd be out here supervising."
"Well, you've made remarkable progress this evening, despite the lack of supervision," she said.
A few minutes later, he came rolling out to the garden on his electric scooter. "I came to see if you've done it right," he said.
I high-tailed it out of there before he had a chance to inspect the work and point out to me the error of my ways. ;)
But the garden does, indeed, look 200% better, even if I didn't do everything 100% correctly.
On the agenda for tonight: more tilling, and the planting of the purple hull peas.
Speaking of peas....
Last month, when I went to see our family doctor about my bronchitis, I explained that I'd woke up sick the day after I'd worked hard in the garden. At the mention of the word "garden," his ears perked up. "You garden?" I nodded. "I try." After the examination, he brought up the subject of gardening again. "How do you put up your black-eyed peas?" he asked me. I told him that I just blanch them and put them in freezer bags. He said that one of his elderly patients had recommended putting the shelled, un-washed peas in a pillow case, tying it shut, and stuffing it in the freezer. He said he had tried it, and it had worked beautifully. "You just dip out what you need for a meal, rinse them off, and cook them," he said, "and they taste just like fresh peas."
"No freezer taste?"
"Nope."
Might try that this year, myself.
* * * * *
Note to self: sprayed the second dose of blight fungicide on the tomatoes yesterday. Do it again next week.
It was HOT yesterday, probably still close to 90 degrees when I started. Pop-Pop's big fan was running full blast in his workshop. I'd till a while, and then go drink a glass of water in front of the fan. During my first break, Nanny came out to look for me. "I heard the tiller quit," she said, "but couldn't see you from the kitchen window. I was scared you'd fell out!"
"Not yet," I told her.
A few minutes after I went back to work, I looked up to find Nanny in the garden, hoeing the grass that I hadn't been able to reach with the tiller. Bless her! While she did the weeding, I finished the tilling and planted two rows of green beans. A little while later, my daughter-in-law and grandson showed up. They helped us plant more tomatoes. Still later, The Husband arrived on his bicycle, and he helped by watering the tomatoes and dusting the squash plants with insecticide powder. It was just about to get dark by the time we finished putting the tools away.
All this time, I'd seen nothing of Pop-Pop. Just as we were preparing to quit for the day, he and The Nephew drove up, towing a lawnmower on a trailer. Pop-Pop went straight into the house. Nanny explained that they'd gone to mow the yard of a friend who has been under the weather. "He must be in pain," I told Nanny, "else he'd be out here supervising."
"Well, you've made remarkable progress this evening, despite the lack of supervision," she said.
A few minutes later, he came rolling out to the garden on his electric scooter. "I came to see if you've done it right," he said.
I high-tailed it out of there before he had a chance to inspect the work and point out to me the error of my ways. ;)
But the garden does, indeed, look 200% better, even if I didn't do everything 100% correctly.
On the agenda for tonight: more tilling, and the planting of the purple hull peas.
Speaking of peas....
Last month, when I went to see our family doctor about my bronchitis, I explained that I'd woke up sick the day after I'd worked hard in the garden. At the mention of the word "garden," his ears perked up. "You garden?" I nodded. "I try." After the examination, he brought up the subject of gardening again. "How do you put up your black-eyed peas?" he asked me. I told him that I just blanch them and put them in freezer bags. He said that one of his elderly patients had recommended putting the shelled, un-washed peas in a pillow case, tying it shut, and stuffing it in the freezer. He said he had tried it, and it had worked beautifully. "You just dip out what you need for a meal, rinse them off, and cook them," he said, "and they taste just like fresh peas."
"No freezer taste?"
"Nope."
Might try that this year, myself.
* * * * *
Note to self: sprayed the second dose of blight fungicide on the tomatoes yesterday. Do it again next week.
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