Thursday, September 1, 2011

Fall Seed Flats

It's hard to imagine that it's time to start seeds for a Fall garden, but from what I've been reading it's not only time, it's past time.  Some local gardeners suggested starting some seeds outdoors a few weeks ago for a Fall garden -- it's been so hot and dry here -- I can't fathom how they would survive.  I had trouble finding the motivation but this past weekend I did get my seeds in starter pots:

I mixed a potting soil mix with all sorts of yummies in it -- the natural version of vermiculite for aeration, some organic compost... I soaked the "black gold" from my worm farm in water from my rain barrels and strained it for super nutrious water... I wrote out little tags, skewered them on toothpicks and marked the ends of my rows so I'd know what was what.  I planted seeds for pumpkins for jack'o'lanterns, carrots, cilantro, parsley, chives, peas, rutabaga, butter lettuce, spinach...   Beautfiul.  How could I go wrong?

Unfortunately, I chose a pen that runs.

This is the only remaining legible tag.  Oh, this is going to be fun.

Monday, August 29, 2011

Light Pollution

I like to sleep in the dark.  I mean, DARK dark.  I've been battling some light pollution in my livingroom at night for several months now -- I could literally turn off all my lights, close my roman shades, and sit on my couch and read.  That's just wrong.  And the light seeps into my bedroom.

On evenings when I'm calm and even keeled, my livingroom windows look like this:

On nights when I've really had enough and I just can't take it anymore, my windows may take on this hobo appearance:

Old curtains and straight pins have been my friends.  My charming little 1929 Tudor gets unceremoniously yanked back into my 1980's college dorm.  I can't even call it Bohemian.

Saturday night I was feeling very out of control -- a variety of things that I could not control were swirling around me -- and so I cleaned.  Cleaning gives me a sense of calm.  One of my sisters called during my cleaning dervish. 

"Hey, I caught you -- at home on a Saturday night!  What's up?" 

"I'm cleaning."

"It's Saturday night."

"Yeah, I know, but I'm feeling really out of control, and cleaning helps."

"Ohhh yeah.  I do that.  It doesn't resolve anything, but you do wake up to a clean house."

See?  Sisters.  It's genetic. (And no, I'm not going to call my other sisters and see if I'm making assumptions, that it isn't genetic, and that I am just crazy. Nope, I'll take that validation, thankyouverymuch.)

When I finally wound down for the night I was feeling a little better, but my livingroom was still bathed in light.  I retreated to a back room with a good book.

Sunday morning I awakened early and enjoyed the cool morning quiet on my porch.  I pulled the mosquito curtains closed, turned the ceiling fan on high, and lounged -- my cotton pjs, the coffee press, my book, The Advocate magazine, and my Words with Friends, all within reach.  Hummingbirds flitted around, Cardinals chirped... Ahhhhhh.  Bliss.

When the sun came around the corner and bathed me in heat I retreated (sense a theme?) to my backyard and did some yoga.  Greta laid on the platform with me -- she was also getting her Zen on.  Fantastic.  The trees above me were dizzying.

And then... neighbors on both sides of me began cleaning out their garages.*  I was able to maintain my Zen for what I think is a remarkable amount of time before I finally threw in the towel yoga mat.  Control was fleeting.

I am not going to torture you (in this post anyway) with an outline of the next few hours, but suffice it to say -- now my livingroom looks like this:

And THEN look what I can do -- !

It's daaaaarrrk. Sorry the lighting is so terrible.  I'll get you a better photo when the sun is up.

*No blame -- they are both moving -- they have things to do.