I expect at this time of the year [...]]]> My yard is way too shady to grow most veggies. I have a few tomatoes in buckets behind the garage and I usually stick a few basil plants in between the perennials. But for the most part, I get the good stuff at the West Allis Farmer’s Market.

I expect at this time of the year to find a wide assortment of greens, radishes, peas, plants, rhubarb, herbs, maybe some early strawberries. I love to go and see what’s there and then decide what to cook for dinner.

Now Scott, my hubby, is not a huge fan of vegetables. Or salad, for that matter. He eats it if I make it. But if I ask him if he wants a salad, he says no. And some veggies are never going to cross his lips. Beets for one (I love beets). So it’s up to me to make them anyway and present them in a way that gets him to eat them. I guess that’s part of my job description as housewife. Good thing I’m up to the challenge!

So here’s what I got today…Baby beets (for me including fried greens), swiss chard (also for me), a beautiful salad mix, asparagus, 3 boxes of strawberries and a still warm loaf of Asiago bread.

I am having beets and chard for lunch, probably with an angel hair pasta. For dinner we are having a marinated/grilled shrimp in salad. I will grill the asparagus as well. I’ll probably make a lemon vinaigrette dressing. The bread will be good on the side if I don’t eat it all before he gets home!

Then we have the strawberries. Why did I buy 3 boxes? That’s way more than I really need. You see…I just can’t pass up the cute kids that come with their Mom’s to sell their berries. One little squirt, about 4, like my Rory, had the evidence of how good her product really is all around her mouth!

So I guess I’m making shortcake, which is one of Scott’s favorite desserts anyway (I’ll post this recipe asap). And they will be great stirred into the tapioca I had planned. Yesterdays batch was a miserable failure (scrambled tapioca, YUK).

I probably should have gotten some snap peas. I saw them there. But my bag was already quite full. Then I spotted my favorite farmer. He’s an “old” guy. I don’t know his name. But he is always ready to gab a bit about whatever. He grows the best bedding plants. I could not pass up a flat of sweet allysum. I like the mixed purple and white ones.

There was another “old timer” there yakking at him. I joined the conversation. They were talking about the friend who had passed recently. It went something like this…”He was fine one day and the next, boom, dead as a doornail. Nice funeral though. Lots of flowers. All the people from the old neighborhood were there.” (And I commiserate, that’s nice, etc.) “Great food. Those church ladies sure can cook. Lots to drink too. Joe could always hold his Wild Turkey. Got bad though. Had to close the casket. His brother-in-law puked right in there.” And then I got the sideways look. Is she really buying this load? I nudged the old fart on the shoulder, “You BS-er you” . They got a huge laugh out of that.

Off I went with my flat of pure perfume, way too many strawberries and a big grin. I love the Farmer’s Market.

I live in a medium-sized midwest city. Kinda in the ‘burbs. I have a lawn, garden, trees, a quiet street. It’s about as close to living in the country as we [...]]]> I’m not a “morning person”. I’d rather sleep until at least 9am. But in the summer…the fresh air…well, it’s worth it to get up early.

I live in a medium-sized midwest city. Kinda in the ‘burbs. I have a lawn, garden, trees, a quiet street. It’s about as close to living in the country as we can get and still have my hubby be only 5 miles from work.

This morning I sit at my desk. It is under a window that faces west. There is a slight breeze. Just enough to move the curtains. I catch an olfactory glimpse of peony, rose, verbena, fresh cut grass, dew, earth, and bacon. It’s cool, just above 60 degrees. There is a heaviness in the air. 80% humidity. These conditions are perfect for the fragrances to carry but not suffocate.

The icing on this cake is the birds. They start at about 4:15am (at that hour I want to throw rocks at them and tell them to “shut up!”). But it’s already after 8:00 and now I can appreciate them. I’ve had a cup of coffee. I hear a male cardinal, a robin, and sparrows. Farther away I hear a mourning dove pair calling to each other. There is a bee of some sort buzzing just outside the screen. It’s low whirrrr is peaceful and comforting. It resonates with my inner tone.

My thoughts drift from these simple pleasures to my “to do” list for the day. But the breeze carries me off… What are my children doing today? Is my granddaughter up and having breakfast? Did my hubby have a pleasant drive to work?

So many of us start our day with a screaming alarm clock. We jump out of bed and begin without a thought to the gifts that are under our noses. Take a minute. Stretch and breath. Listen. My wish is that everyone have such a glorious start to their day. It is yoga for the soul.

The second year we were here, we had a big old silver maple [...]]]> I live on a corner lot in the city. We’ve been here for 5 years now. I like it. It’s manageable. My husband detests yard work. I love it. Opposites attract! We don’t completely agree on the question I pose in this title.

The second year we were here, we had a big old silver maple taken down. It was a difficult decision. Kill an old tree? Husband wasn’t too happy. But the entire area leading from the driveway to the backdoor was a mine field of roots, buckled concrete, rotten railroad ties and debris from a tree that never would quit making a mess. Silver maples are notorious for always shedding something. So part of that project was to redo the sidewalks, make a nice patio and landscape everything else.

mixed bed at patio edge

We enjoy the wildlife in our yard. I planted things that would attract them. We have rabbits, squirrels, and lots of birds. I have seen a coyote a few times. I know there are raccoons too. There is a chipmunk that lives under the back porch and I’ve seen a few moles. I wish I could attract a toad or two. I know with some of these animals I am running a risk of them becoming a problem. I don’t feed them, but I can’t trap or kill them either. I just can’t bring myself to do it. My husband also takes the side of the animals right to be here. His compassion for nature is one of my favorite things about him. I have a picture of him somewhere, going down the side walk, in his suit dressed for work. It had rained and the sidewalk was full of earth worms. I think he “saved” every one on his way to the car. I “saved” a June bug that appeared to be stuck on his back this morning. These are the adult stage of a grub that can devastate a lawn.

Every winter the rabbits chew the spirea almost to the ground. They never flower due to this vigorous pruning. I was weeding yesterday and was wondering what was wrong with the normally vigorous yarrow. Upon further inspection I discovered a rabbit nest in the middle of it. Only 1 baby. About 3 inches long. Eyes still shut. I could easily have disposed of it, saving my spirea a few branches. Instead, I carefully covered it back up and stepped away, hoping that my scent wouldn’t cause the mother to abandon her offspring. I figure the odds are stacked against this little creature enough without me butting in. We have a good population of red tailed hawks around and I’ve seen crows carry off baby rabbits. Not to mention the outside cats that our neighbors let roam. So I left it up to Mother Nature. I know she really does know best. This fall I will cover the spirea with a fortress of chicken wire and burlap just in case Mother Nature is busy.

cute!

That's for the birds!

That's for the birds!

what are you doing here?

That brings me to the lawn. It’s full of weeds. Dandelion, chickweed, plantain, creeping charlie, buck thorn, escaped oregano…etc. I’m torn between being a “good neighbor” who sprays to create the coveted monoculture that is lawn, or being happy with the fact that it’s green. Much of the problem is compaction. This lawn is over 50 years old. Clay for sure, and probably many years of chemical treatments before I arrived. Water pretty much just runs off.

I have hired a service to aerate the lawn. My husband votes for the spray routine, applications of pesticides, herbicides and fertilizers 5 times a season. It really drives him nuts to see the dandelion stems, after their seeds have been released, standing straight up, 6 inches high, in the middle of everywhere. It does look messy. But the first thing our old dog Peachy does is eat grass when she goes out. And where will our Granddaughter play “kickety-kick” ball when she visits? Not to mention the fat little hand full of dandelions picked just for me.

After the aeration I am spreading peat. Then I am going to spread clover seed. Yes, I’m adding more “weeds”. Clover fixes nitrogen in the soil and makes it more available for the grasses. It also helps loosen. Those poor worms. Can you imagine their struggle? No wonder there are so few.

We are blessed with abundant water, being so close to Lake Michigan. Lawns here need several inches a week. Maybe a regular watering schedule is justified. I am aware of water issues all over the country. I am making a compromise. No chemicals running into the storm drain and thus into the lake, I can water once a week.

The thistle is where I draw the line. It is a WEED. I have been hitting them with a quick squirt of Roundup, but that leaves me with a dead mass of terrible dried up assault weapons just waiting for a tender foot of a grandchild to fall upon. So now I dig them. The package of thistle seed we buy for the finches says it is guaranteed not to sprout. I thinks that’s bologna. We didn’t have thistles until I hung up a bird feeder.

So it really comes down to a matter of opinion. One persons pest is another’s entertainment and representative of nature. Like everything else, there are limits. I will pull the dandelions and other invaders from the flower beds. And I will protect the shrubs with hardware barricades and deterrents like Liquid Fence. (an all natural, nasty smelling spray that makes the plants less palatable for the critters).

What’s a pest? What’s a weed? Think carefully before you decide.

[UPDATE] Hubby has been convinced to stay organic.

I was talking to Julie on the phone. Telling her about my son’s apartment. Blah blah, went to the store. Blah blah, bought light bulbs for him. And she says, “compact fluorescent?” “Um, no.” “GINA”, she says, “shame on you”. I made some excuse [...]]]> I got scolded yesterday. Something that doesn’t happen often at age 47.

I was talking to Julie on the phone. Telling her about my son’s apartment. Blah blah, went to the store. Blah blah, bought light bulbs for him. And she says, “compact fluorescent?” “Um, no.” “GINA”, she says, “shame on you”. I made some excuse about spending the extra money and how long is he going to be in that apartment.

Today I am thinking about this. And she’s right. She is very GREEN. I admire her greenness. I am proud of her for her greenness. Those light bulbs don’t cost that much more. I know my son’s electricity is included in his rent, but it isn’t about him saving money. Or me either. It’s about our planet and everyone getting on board with these simple planet saving measures. Check out Rex Weyler’s blog.

What we all can do is obvious at every turn. Everywhere you look there is some tip about reducing the carbon footprints in our lives. We can’t afford to be lazy or complacent. We all know a child that is special to us. Precious in their own way. The next time you have an environmental decision to make, think of that child. Will there be dandelions to wish on. Will there be flowers to smell, rainbows to chase, or lakes to swim in? Come on everybody. “Shame on us”.

Gilly was my grandma. Mom’s mom. Her name was Gilda, but I called her Grandma Gilly from the get-go. One of 10 kids raised on [...]]]> It’s kinda weird I guess. Most people have tokens of remembrance and heirlooms like jewelery, or photos, notes or cards, maybe a fishing pole and tackle box. I have Gilly’s boots.

Gilly was my grandma. Mom’s mom. Her name was Gilda, but I called her Grandma Gilly from the get-go. One of 10 kids raised on a farm. Descendant of John Alden and Priscilla Mullins. Yes, from the Mayflower. A WWII wife of a navy man. She had 2 daughters, the oldest being my mother.

Gilly was a tiny woman (5’2″ I think) although she called herself the tall one in the family since she was a bit taller than both her daughters. She weighed  around 100 lbs after a big meal (you should have seen her eat spaghetti, or ice cream…vanilla). Gilly was beautiful, feminine, and quite a character. She loved to be pretty. She loved makeup and jewelery (my sister Suzanne found this especially hard to resist when young.) And we always got to dab a bit of Taboo perfume when we were there. She was always in fashion, all the way to the end of her life at 83. Gilly was the original Martha Sterwart as far as homemaking, gardening, and cooking were concerned. She was graceful and very much a “lady”. Very Grace Kelly.

But, being born under the sign of Gemini, she had another side to her. She was strong. Strong in character. Comfortable with who she was and what she could do. She compromised and sacrificed just like all mothers and wives, but she never let that interfere with the example she was busy setting for me and my siblings and cousins.

Grandpa liked to buy and sell travel trailers. Airstreams mostly but anything was fair game. Trader Jack was a good nickname for him. I’m sure he always made money on the deal. The thing is, that while he went to work during the day, road construction, Gilly would scrub, polish, remodel and recondition those trailers. I remember her making new upholstery and curtains. I remember finding her on a tall ladder caulking around vents etc. on the roof. I remember her underneath with rust proofing tar. She did it all. She usually managed to keep her nails nice in the process. Pink.

They took an Airstream to Florida every winter while Grandpa was laid off. They fished. Big largemouth bass. On Lake Okeechobee. Yes, she did fish too and there is documented proof of her winning the fishing derby over all the men in camp. I think her bass was a 12 pounder. They took a picture of her pointing to it on the board. All the men’s fish looking tiny in comparison. It seemed as long as she was tall! She had on a cute navy and white polka dot sleeveless blouse, red jeans, and a big wide brimmed white hat. Then they ate it, the fish. Grandpa’s got mounted. It wasn’t nearly as big though.

I have clear memories of her somewhere in the middle 70′s, so she would have been in her 50′s, completely involved in remodeling the “little house” on the farm she grew up on. We drove up one day and there she was, jeans, toolbelt, chambray shirt, sleeves rolled up, cute earrings dangling from under her crazy red hair, and the boots. Redwings. Hightops. I’m sure Grandpa made her get them. It’s prudent to take care of your feet and have the right tools and clothes for any given job. He was very practical…at least outwardly.

The message all along, women can do anything. She wasn’t a women’s libber though. She showed us how to make a marriage work, even when he could be an ass. She could do it all…”bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan…and never never never”…etc. The Enjoli perfume jingle from the era.

So, I grew up being a tomboy that also liked to cook and craft and garden, etc. I had a very strong sense of self confidence from all of the women in my life. I could do anything. When my husband and I decided to build our own house on the 5 acres we had purchased, Gilly showed up with a wonderful gift. The boots. I was thrilled! She was passing the torch! Although she had given me her boots, she would show up occasionally to help. They painted and stained, hammered and sanded and enjoyed my kids company.

Fast forward a few years, like 20, and I am here still doing all the things that she taught me to do and love. This spring, as I began my gardening projects, I went to get the boots. I oil them every year, and as a testimony for Redwing, they are still in great shape. But this year, I couldn’t find them! I had some crazy recollection of cleaning and throwing them away! I asked my husband and he agreed, I had thrown them away. How could he let me do such a thing? Didn’t he know how important they were? He said he thought I was crazy at the time, but did he stop me? NO!

I was crushed. Depressed even. What had I done? In a crazy phase of less is more, I had lost a treasure. Gardening would not be the same. Gilly would not be with me in my most creative activities. But of course, that’s not true. She is always with me, boots or no boots.

As we go through the garage preparing for my son’s move to his own apartment, what do I find? YES, the BOOTS. They are on the shelf in the garage. Safe and sound and waiting for me like Gilly always was when I would visit.

I have oiled them, they look great. But I think it’s time to retire them and elevate them to a new level. Gilly would have used them as a planter or vase. Maybe a napkin/silverware holder on the picnic table. I will reflect on this. They will tell me what they want to be. Or she will. I will be listening. And I will get a new pair so my granddaughter Rory will have them to treasure when she grows up to be a strong woman who can do anything.

I have many [...]]]> I Love Lucy. Really. I have been laughing with her and at her my whole life. I think my favorite episode is the one about bread. As someone who loves to bake homemade bread, I can relate. As someone who is always pinching pennies and scheming the next money making venture…I can relate.

I have many special women in my life that I have had “Lucy and Ethel” moments with. My sister Suzanne and I have had several over the years. Most recently, my very best friend Julie, really a sister, has been my Lucy. Actually we trade off being Lucy or Ethel depending on whose house it’s at and which husband is going to say “LUUCCYY?” with a Cuban accent.

Our latest Lucy and Ethel moment came this past weekend. We’ve been working up to it for sometime though. You see…Julie (Lucy) decided after last year’s community supported agriculture fiasco, that she should raise her own organic veggies for her family of 6. Think of the money she would save…she lives over an hour away from a real grocery store. She already has the freezer, food dehydrator, seal-a-meal, canning jars, know-how and desire. What more can she need? A few seeds. Seeds are cheap, aren’t they?

So she calls me (Ethel), the supposed gardening pro. We discuss gro-lites in the basement, how many flats, seed starter mixes etc. Trip 1 to Menards…I don’t know the $ total. We plan how many raised beds she will need. Her yard is almost all sand, so we’ll need good dirt. She builds a solar path finder gadget (Lucy is very techy) and plots the best sunny locations for the 27 (!) 4ftx8ft beds. We had calculated how many sq. feet she would need to feed the kids all winter. Then she orders 2×12′s and linseed oil to preserve them. As organic as we could get. Soon the dirt arrives, 33 yards! We have Mike, aka Ricky, take down several trees on the edge of their property to allow more sun.  Then we plan that Ethel would borrow Fred’s truck, drive the 200 miles to Lucy’s and help move the dirt to the beds. Lucy’s wheel barrow is very old and it cost about $80 for a new one. Ricky says, “no wheel barrow, you’ve spent enough money already”.

We spend Friday moving brush, oiling boards and other prep work. The plants in the basement look great. I think there are 47 tomato plants. Plus peppers, etc. Saturday morning Ricky takes 2 of the kids and goes to get fresh farm milk, over an hour away. We set 6 of the beds, we have to set a few, fill a few, set a few etc. We shovel the back of Scott’s, um Fred’s truck full of dirt. We drive it around to the back yard, careful not to drive over septic tanks and well lines etc, not to mention chickens and other children. Ethel maneuvers the truck so it’s easiest to empty into the first bed. Hmmm not moving. More gas…uh-oh. Fred’s truck is buried up the hubs in the sand!! Lucy’s eyes are huge, like they get when she gets an idea…”Lucy, what are you thinking?”, asks Ethel. “Let’s rent a bobcat!” “Oh Lucy do you think we should?” “Let’s do it!” So she calls the local hardware store. They can have one there in a half hour. Sweet! “We’ll have the truck unstuck and the beds filled before Ricky gets back!”

So the bobcat arrives. They each get lessons in operation and ask about issues with sand and getting trucks unstuck. The owner loans them the tow chain and shows them where to hook it up to the bobcat. Ethel drives it around back. She gingerly nudges a tree trunk out of the way. Lucy suggests they are being too timid. Floor it and go. Ethel does. It works but it does dig up the yard a bit. Ricky isn’t going to like that! After a bit of maneuvering Lucy and Ethel decide to pull the truck out backwards instead of forwards. So they hook up the bobcat with the chain somewhere under the truck, after much digging to get under there. Ethel tells Lucy to go slow until the slack it out and then she gets in the truck to put it in reverse. Thumbs up! THWACK! The chain comes loose. Fred’s bumper is bent. Uh-Oh! So they hook it back up and try again. They seem to be making some headway when suddenly Ethel looks back to see the bobcat buried up to the hubs. Lucy’s eyes are really big now. “Ethel, what are we going to do?” “Ricky is going to kill me”. Ethel uses the bucket to lift the bobcat front end up. They build a road under the bobcat. In the middle of this, Ricky comes home to find 2 very buried vehicles. “LUUUCCCY?”

He helps dig out the truck. We finally get the bobcat unstuck, and are ready to finally dump the first load of dirt with the bobcat. As Lucy turns to dump the load, Ethel sees that the left front tire is completely flat and practically off the rim!! What else could go wrong? Ricky says a few things in a combo of broken English and Cuban, Lucy says, “WWWAAAHHH!” and Ethel thanks God that Fred stayed home!

Sunday morning, Ethel wakes up to find Lucy outside in the dirt pile with the rickety old wheel barrow and a new look of determination on her face. She has a lot of money into the project and it has to work. Ethel picks up a shovel and helps as best she can. Ricky helps too. Think of all the money Lucy will save and those will be the best tasting tomatoes ever.

I would like to [...]]]> In this time of green awareness, I find myself very frustrated. I have always had a natural greenness, but my housemates do not. In fact, If it were to be calculated, on the average day, we probably produce a carbon footprint the size of a herd of Yeti. (Yeti, bigfoot…haha get it?)

I would like to see all the lights in my house on motion sensors. Or if you leave the room they automatically shut off. I can’t tell you how many times a day I run around the house shutting off all the lights. The ones in the basement especially get me. Up and down the stairs…Argh! Yes, we have compact fluorescent bulbs. If it came down to reversing global warming, I would live in the dark. I can knit by candlelight.

My husband really likes the thermostat set at 70 all year. I talked him into 65 this past winter. We live in the upper Midwest. Bundling up and using the microwave to warm rice bags helped a lot. (I wonder what the kilowatt hour calculation is for those) I was cold most of the winter but I like to think that the shivering burned extra calories. Now that summer is approaching, he’s already too warm. On Friday when it was near 80 outside, if it hadn’t have been for the breeze, I think he would have turned the AC on! So we are going to Home Depot to get a ceiling fan for our bedroom. Between my hot flashes and night sweats and his general overheated condition we need something, or we’ll find ourselves cranking the thermostat down. We, well me, are committed to 75 all summer.

Recycling is a whole other matter. I rinse and breakdown and sort etc. into a bin in the kitchen. They are supposed to get it to the bin outside for curbside pickup by our city. Now I’ll admit I get lazy now and then. Like with peanut butter jars. Forget it, not washing those. You need so much hot water and Dawn to get them clean that it can’t be worth it. I would go without peanut butter. They like it. So often I will wander out to the bin by the garage, only to find that the prepared recycling has been put into the garbage can instead!! Somebody didn’t want to take the time to sort the cardboard from the other recyclables. So there I am, digging in the garbage for the things that don’t have to end up in our overflowing landfill!

I take it a step further with kitchen scraps. I have a compost bin outside, and a worm bin in the basement. Yeah, just save your “eeewwww’s”. It doesn’t smell, really. And the worms do a great job. I bought my original worms from www.vermiculture.com. I also recommend the following site for instructions on making your own worm bin and taking care of the red wigglers. It was easy. Thanks hubby!  I use the castings in the garden and in the houseplants. It’s especially nice since the bin outside is frozen for half the year. I wish I could get more compost from the worms. The soil here is really terrible. I have been adding organic amendments for 4 years now. Short of hauling in a few truckloads of old horse poop, I’m stuck with a little at a time. Not to mention that I can’t shovel it around like I used to. No, the guys really aren’t interested in helping in the yard.

lotsa holes for venting and migrating

I have always been a thrift store shopper. It’s hard to find really good stuff since it’s kind of a thing to do now. But I still manage to keep myself clothed and not looking too “frumpy”. It would be harder if I had to dress for a professional career. Thank you hubby…I stay home.

The last word about greenness… for today. I love my Honda Civic hybrid. 45+mpg average and very low emissions. I bought it in ’03 and aside from a little rust, everything is great. I have 100,000 miles on it now and hope to have it to at least 200,000. Everyone should have something like this. Especially when gas hits $4.00 a gal again. Which it will. I drive about 50 miles a day, round trip, to babysit my granddaughter. So it pays to have it.

There is more we can do. All of us. We need to replace a few leaky windows, the attic is already at R50. We need to unplug the electronics when not in use. I want to eliminate plastics as much as possible. Hard to do when the son likes TV dinners and convenience foods. July 1st… (he used to be so environmetally aware when he was little…sigh).