Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Feelin' Weak, Earl?*

*With apologies to the Dixie Chicks for twisting the lyrics to "Goodbye Earl," throughout this post.

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OK, I am in full planning and packing mode here.  Vacation on the horizon. And what should leave the coast of Africa with intent to stop us? 

Why, a Category 4 Himmicane named Earl, of course.  Followed closely by a potential Hurricane named Fiona.  You must be joking.

Timing being everything, this Bad Boy appears to be barreling through the Caribbean as I write these words...with predictions for a brush with the Outer Banks late Thursday.

All I have to say is you'd better be gone by Friday, good buddy, Earl.  Na-na-nah na nah ah.

Just like the saying goes for having a nervous breakdown, I've worked hard for this vacation...I've earned it...and no one (or no tropical depression) is going to deprive me of it!  [Read that last sentence with the proper amount of passion...almost borderline hysteria...if you will.]

As Mr. T says, our leaving home for even a day is akin to planning for The D-Day Invasion.  And, for a week or more?  Good grief, Charlie Brown.  Even my To Do Lists have Lists of their own.  Wonder of all wonders, however, this special trip to commemorate a special birthday slowly but surely has come together.  With a lot of help from family (what would we do without Missy M?) and friends (what would we do without BFF AW?), all the pieces of the puzzle have fallen into place.

And, then...?  What...weather?

You might say, big deal.  Why are you worried about a Cat 4 'Cane that is out in the Atlantic?  Well, you see, here in The Old North State, we do worry about stuff like that, especially when it comes so close to our shores.  Wind and rain disrupt lives in the interior of the state almost as much as the initial landfall and storm surge do the coast.  And...and, this is the most important element for us...high winds and rain can disrupt air travel into and out of the Raleigh airport. 

And, we need RDU to be blue skies, clear flying on Friday. We're on a schedule here.

We need a break*!

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Back in the Saddle Again

OK, my self-imposed exile from the outdoors is over.  I'm back to gettting my Vitamin D from the sunshine.  As the weather has changed for the better recently (read that:  lower temps, lower humidity), I'm starting back up on my walking routine.  Walked in my neighborhood to break in a pair of New Balance 494 trainers (as they say across the pond).  NB is my favorite walking shoe, and this new pair does not disappoint.  Comfortable and sturdy, without being stiff or too heavy.  Great fit (I take a wide to accommodate my high arch, fat feet, and thick athletic socks) and good support.  Great price from J.C. Penney's, along with free shipping.  Ordered online, delivered to my door.  I like 'em.

Spotted this kudzu sculpture (left) a couple streets over and took a pic with my phone.  Am always reminded of my AZ cuz AMcG when I see kudzu:  on a trip to visit us when we were living in GA, she wanted to know what that "beautiful, green vine" was growing everywhere.  Oh, you mean The Vine That Ate The South, we asked?  Just proves that one's perspective is all important.  Where we saw a nuisance plant that takes over in the Summer, she saw beauty in the lush green growth...something she isn't treated to in the desert.

Thanks to that last post, I wrote myself into going back out into the garden this past weekend...at least for a bit.  ["Wrote myself into" is like "talking myself into," only using a keyboard.]  Am happy to report no more snake sightings as of today, thank goodness.  Now, I haven't grabbed the scuffle hoe or kicked the garden soil bag yet...one thing at a time, right?  Still, I got quite close to the area Monday morning when I took the veggie clippings (from my last harvest), eggshells, and coffee grounds out to the composter...which is located just on the outside perimeter of the Left Garden, about 5 feet away from the future carrot bed.  However, I didn't take my eyes off that bed, even while I was emptying the clippings...didn't want my "friend" to slither up behind me while I wasn't looking.  Ever vigilant.

Then, I spent some time trimming and tying up the "new" tomato plants, which are responding to being in the ground by putting on a lot of new growth and a goodly number of flowers and fruit.  Since I was AWOL from the garden for the past week, the new growth was looking a bit gangly, shall we say?

These tomato plants are freebies, since they started out as "suckers" on the momma-vines...that's those new shoots that start growing in the V of the main stem of the parent vine and a side stem.  Everything you read says it's best to remove suckers to keep all the energy directed into making tomatoes, not more vine...and I try to keep up with that chore.  Only, I just can't throw good, green growth away.  Not in my DNA.  I take the largest shoots, dip them in compost tea, and then pop 'em into a container of potting soil/sand/compost mixture for rooting.  Voila!  New plants, rooted in a few weeks.  Then, a few weeks after that, I get them in the ground to provide for a late-Summer crop of juicy tomatoes.  So far, so good.

I moved into the Right Garden and picked another mess of purple-hull peas.   The last picking yielded nearly 5 cups of shelled (hulled?) peas, enough to enhance our pork chops for supper on Saturday...and still blanch and freeze a quart bag about 3/4 full.  And, although the squash and the melons have almost stopped flowering and producing (as you can tell from the paltry pickin's in my gathering basket, below), and the corn met an untimely demise in those two windstorms we had...we still have a good bit of produce flowing from the garden.

While picking the purple-hull peas, I was thrilled to see that the English peas I planted in the space vacated by the Early Sweet corn crop (in the back portion, same quadrant as the purple hulls) were green and growing.  Now, I wasn't expecting to harvest any actual peas from these vines...remember, the ones I planted in the early Spring were all enjoyed by Mr. Bunny, long before they flowered.  No, I planted these just to have a nitrogen crop where the corn had been.

You see, corn is a heavy feeder crop.  It sucks nutrients, especially nitrogen, out of the ground, and reduces the fertility of the soil considerably.  Beans and peas, on the other hand are nitrogen "fixers:"  adding nitrogen back into the soil and increasing the fertility.  Well, that works for peas IF you treat them as a "green manure," and plough them under before they flower and set seedpods.  And, that was way more information than you wanted to know, wasn't it?

Anyway, those lovely, little green stems and leaves were just too pretty to be ignored.  So, I thought, why not cover them with that netting I have on the sweet potato vines...the netting that has worked so well at keeping Mr. Bunny from chowing down after I had to replant the sweet potato slips?  Forget all that mumbo-jumbo about cover crops and green manures.  I want peas to eat! 

OK, but in order to do that, I would have to take the netting off the sweet potatoes...not exactly easy, now that the vines have grown through, over, and under the netting in a huge mass.

Out came the clippers...snip, snip, snip.  A good 30 minutes later, I'd not only removed the netting intact from the sweet potato bed and covered half of the row of the tender, new English peas...I'd also harvested a few beautiful sweet potatoes!  OMG, I was so excited to see that they had actually grown fat and full and thick under the cover of dirt and all those vines.  Aren't they gorgeous in that pic to the right?

As this is the first time in my life I've grown sweet potatoes, I really didn't know what to expect.  After reading up on them in my garden books and online, I learned that I should cure them for a few days so that the starch can turn to sugar...and the sweet potatoes will taste sweeter.  So, I spread them out on the deck table for a couple of hours.  Then, I transferred them to a newspaper-lined box that is now sitting atop the freezer in the garage to "cure" for a few days.  I intend to bake a few this weekend and serve 'em up simply...in their jackets with a pat of butter melting in the middle.

Yum!  I can hardly wait for my "yams*!!"


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*I know, I know.  What we eat here in the USA are sweet potatoes (Ipomoea batatas), which are native to the Americas, and not yams...which are botanically different and native to Africa.  Blame Louisiana for the confusion, as "they" got permission to call "their" sweet potatoes "yams."  Go figure.  Anyway, yam was closer alliteratively to yum, and you know me...it's all about the words...:)

Friday, August 20, 2010

The Good, The Bad, and the Almost Downright Ugly

I am thrilled to report that the hummingbirds have come back to our feeders!  The two we have are attached with suction cups to the window in the morning room overlooking the deck, as you can probably tell in that photo on the left.  The larger one (a bottle feeder...not pictured) is glass and quite heavy when filled with sugar-water solution (which I make myself:  4 parts lukewarm water to 1 part sugar, with a few drops of red food coloring; stir to dissolve all the sugar; keep any leftover in the 'fridge until needed). 

The smaller one (shown in the photos) is glass, too, but with a fluted metallic top, in the shape of a flower.  A clever design by a Tennessee artist, Mr. T found it at the Apple Barn in Sevierville and gave it to N/M/E last Christmas.  The hummers seemed most interested in it at first...as are the ants that have a constant trail up the window sill and panes, no matter how many times he has washed it off with either vinegar or Windex...or both.  Now, the hummers are paying more attention to the bottle feeder for some reason.  Same solution in both.  Guess the novelty has worn off.

That's my good news.  That, along with the fact that my SIL LaD has been discharged from the hospital today, heading home.  Not that I equate the two events.  No, I combine them both as my good news 'cause I know that LaD loves the birds...and especially hummingbirds...as much as we do.  She'd like being in the same paragraph, I think.

And, now for the bad news.  I have to report that I've not been in my garden since last Sunday.  And, we are all suffering for it.  You see, I was using my scuffle hoe (called an Action Hoe at Home Depot; marvelous invention, BTW) to weed the Left Garden (the one on the left of the center path...hence the name The Left Garden).  Mr. T and I had spent Saturday removing the damaged corn stalks (remember the windstorms of a couple weeks ago?) and weeding The Right Garden.  Got it looking good again...and planted some English peas in a couple of the resulting rows.  Anyway, I had worked my way down the first row of the Left Garden about mid-day on Sunday, turned the corner, and then it happened.

But first, a pause to paint you a picture.  At the beginning of this second row, I have a new bed I am preparing for next Spring's carrot crop.  After reading about a similar idea in one of my garden books from Jerry Baker, I tilled up and double-dug an area about 3 feet x 8 feet, creating a large trench about 8-10 inches deep; added a bottom layer of leaves; covered the leaves with newspaper, to aid in the composting process; covered the newspaper with a mixture of sand and garden soil, mounding up the soil on the "trench" to create a raised bed of sorts.  Then, to keep this area moist and attract earthworms...who are great composters in their own right...I topped the bed with two unopened bags of garden soil, laid end-to-end.  Neat, huh?  Will be a great place to grow carrots, which need much less compacted soil than our native clay.

Unfortunately, the same principal for keeping the earth moist (putting the unopened bags of garden soil on top of the bed) encourages the growth of a whole host of weeds.  I was scuffle-hoeing the beginning of the row, then started to edge under the bags to get the offending growth when...

Have I ever told you how much I hate snakes?  Fear them?  Am terrified of them?  Have nightmares about them?  Well, just in case I haven't mentioned that fact, I'm telling you now.  I. HATE. SNAKES.

My hoe touched the first bag of garden soil, and out from the gap between the bags slithered a black snake.  "Slithered."  That word just says it all, doesn't it?  Thankfully, he headed in the opposite direction, toward the wood pile in the back yard beyond the picket fence.  I stood, frozen in place.  I am pleased to say that I did not do what I have done in the past when encountering a snake in my space:  scream bloody murder.  My heart was racing, but I calmly made my way back to the garden tool rack on the far side of the garden to replace the hoe, stopped by my work-bench to pick up my gathering basket with the harvest of tomatoes, peppers, and peas I'd collected earlier, then slowly walked through the gate and back into the house.  No, no pictures of the event were taken.

I decided to spend the rest of my afternoon putting up my day's gatherings.  And, I watched my snake from the safety of the kitchen window over the sink where I was working.  He had made himself quite at home in the pine needle-mulched area around the wood pile.  Mr. T went out in the back yard a couple of times, to observe him a little closer.  He asked me if I wanted him to try and kill the snake, but I said no.  I know that a black snake is helpful in keeping the rodent population under control.  And, I know that he was probably more scared of me than I was of him.  I know, I know.

I have moved past "the only good snake is a dead snake" to "live and let live."  So, I have grown.  Still, I cannot seem to make myself go back into the garden.  You see, I am battling a life-long fear here.  When I once encountered a snake in the back yard of our house in Cordova, I tearfully (and, OK, a bit irrationally) told Mr. T to "sell it.  Sell the house.  I'm not going back in that yard ever again."  I know I need to get beyond this 'cause the weeding won't wait...it's only getting worse out there with all the rain and warm weather we've been having.  And there are probably tomatoes, peppers, and peas going past prime.  We are missing out on all that tasty produce.  Too bad.  I'm not ready to be a Big Girl yet.

And what about the "Almost Downright Ugly" mentioned in the Title today?  Well, that refers to my favorite shoes for the garden...or just about anywhere for that matter.  I found these babies called TerraSoles Echo Crossband Ballerinas at Sam's Club earlier this year.  I was more attracted to their ease of wearing and their origins than to their beauty. They are made by a company in Ohio, located in the same town we lived for a few years in the late 80's-early 90's.  It's not every day you see the place-name "Pickerington," so that instantly caught my eye when I spotted it on the shoebox.

Bought a pair of black ones and have since returned for a pair of cool blue suede ones.  They are not exactly the prettiest pair of shoes I've ever owned, but they are definitely the most comfortable ones.  The soles are like recycled tire treads (that sounds worse when I write it), the uppers are a combo of micro-suede and bamboo, and the innersoles are clouds.  Honestly, I could wear these things 24/7/365.  And, because they are washable (I kid you not...in the washing machine, as well as under the garden hose...:), I can!  I keep them on the screened porch, at the ready for me to slip into to make a quick trip to the store, or to go get the paper in the morning, or to go work in the garden.  Then, when I'm done, I wash any dirt off with the garden hose.  Voila.  Clean again.  Every now and then, I add them to the wishy-washy with a load of towels.  You're supposed to take the innersoles out and hand-wash separately, but I keep forgetting to do that step.  No matter.  Just let'em air dry for a couple of days, and you are back in business.  Ahhhhhh.

It's not that the shoes are that ugly.  Well, you be the judge of that from the picture, above.  No, it's the tan lines I've acquired while wearing these darlings of garden that qualify for that designation.  Since we are going on vacation soon, I've become more conscious of how ridiculous my feet look.  No, really.  Check out that shot on the left.  Not only are the "big" tan lines visible...the little "holes" created by the criss-cross straps on the Terrasoles are quite prominent.  What'll I do when we head to the beach or the pool?  Wear 15 SPF on the upper part of my feet and 30 SPF on the toes?  For sure I'll have to do something, or you won't be able to tell the difference between the color of my toes and the color of my toenails (which is called Mango, Mango...:).  Ouch!

One thing I won't be doing.  I won't be going barefooted into the garden to even out my tan.  Not anytime soon.  Not by a long shot.  No way.  No how.

Friday, August 13, 2010

Friggatriskaidekaphobia

Lest you think I should wash my keyboard off with soap after typing that title, let me share its definition from the ever-helpful Wikipedia

"the fear of Friday the 13th is called friggatriskaidekaphobia, frigga meaning "Friday" and triskaidekaphobia (or paraskevidekatriaphobia) being a word derived from the concatenation of the Greek words Paraskeví (Παρασκευή, meaning "Friday"), and dekatreís (δεκατρείς, meaning "thirteen") attached to phobía (φοβία, from phóbos, φόβος, meaning "fear"). The word was derived in 1911 and first appeared in a mainstream source in 1953."
I, too, first appeared in the mainstream in '53, but I digress...

Follow the link and find way more than you ever wanted to know about Friday the 13th and the origins of phobia, including the theory related in Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code about the day the Knights Templar were virtually eliminated by King Philip's forces in France:  Friday, October 13, 1307.  Made for a great plot link in that excellent novel.

I personally like the notation that:
"(h)owever, some experts think that it is relatively recent and is a modern-day invention. For example, the superstition is rarely found before the 20th century, when it became extremely common. One author, noting that references are all but nonexistent before 1907 but frequently seen thereafter, has argued that its popularity derives from the publication that year of Thomas W. Lawson's popular novel Friday, the Thirteenth, in which an unscrupulous broker takes advantage of the superstition to create a Wall Street panic on a Friday the 13th."

To whit, I say pish, tosh.  Am I going to stay indoors, afraid to be out and about, afraid to even get out of bed, just because Friday happens to fall on the 13th day of a month?  That's going to happen at least once each year...and possibly as many as three times, like in 2012...and, I'm personally unwilling to release 24 of my precious hours to that fear, much less 72.  Heck no...I just grab my lucky rabbit's foot, walk around the block with my mouth full of water without swallowing it to be 100% safe, then kiss my wedding ring for good luck and go!  [You do know I'm just kidding, right?]

Anyway, I could never, ever call this particular Friday the 13th "unlucky," no matter what.  You see, today we got the news that SIL LaD, who has been so very, very sick this week has made a remarkable recovery.  I even got to talk to her today...and she sounded fantastic.  Hooray and hallelujah!

Now, if only my MegaMillion$ numbers could come in tonight, I could prove how lucky Friday the 13th can be.  You'll be the first to know...!

Monday, August 9, 2010

Lost: 10 Days. If Found, Please Return.

Don't call out the gendarmes just yet.  I haven't fallen off the face of the earth.  It may just seem that way since I've been silent for several days.

It all started Monday, two weeks ago today, when we got the news that a cousin in Nashville had died.  Wendell was technically a cousin-in-law, if there is such a thing; but as Betty Jean's husband of over three decades, he was "family."  He'd battled esophageal cancer for many months, and as Brother J (who'd gotten very close to Wendell during his illness) said "it was time for him to go home."  Visitation was scheduled for Wednesday, with the funeral service on Thursday. 

The calls and emails began to fly.  Mr. T said he could get home early from his MD/DC/DE trip, and BFF AW said she'd be on hand to provide interim coverage at home (since N/M/E couldn't make that long drive) that would allow me to get on the road to Middle Tennessee by noon on Wednesday.  I booked a room for two nights with Brother J, as did Missy M and Brother T, who (along with Ella Rae) would drive down I-65 together from KY.  And, even though I didn't exactly leave HPNC on time, I made it to visitation, with about 4 1/2 minutes to spare.  And, no...no speeding tickets were issued to me in either NC or TN.

It's sad that it takes a funeral to get us together, but at times like these, we need to be with those we love, don't we?

Speaking of being with those we love...I took this photo of the three black dogs:  Ella Rae, Ellie Mae, and Buster, standing at the deck door at J&J's house.  That first night was tough on both the E's, as they each barked at the slightest noise in the house.  Kind of like dueling barkers.  One would bark upstairs (Ella Rae), then the other (Ellie Mae) would have to answer from downstairs. Made a good night's sleep an elusive dream to us humans. 

Oh well, that's what strong coffee is for, right?

After a pot of some potent Maxwell House, Brother T treated Missy M and me to a scrumptious breakfast at the Lovelace Cafe, heartily recommended by Bro J and SIL J.  I chowed down on a huge slice of their country ham...their claim to fame, along with their biscuits, which are hot and light, and great with butter...even though I am not a fan of their preserves and jams: not sweet enough for me.  Still, we enjoyed the food and the conversation before heading back to the house to get ready for the funeral.

I do not exaggerate when I say it was one of the hottest days of the year.  And humid.  Rained while we were inside for the service; then the clouds cleared away to allow the blazing sun to beat down on the puddles of water to create more hot and humid conditions.  In fact, so hot and humid that the funeral home staff had set out a cooler with ice and bottles of chilled water at the graveside.  Much appreciated by all.

Very little sleep.  Hot.  Humid.  And, did I say that in my haste to pack for the trip, I left my "vertigo-prevention" essentials (a cortisone-based nasal spray and the medication that helps keep a balance in fluids) at home?  As Mr. T said, "the perfect storm."

I was pretty wimpy that evening, but thankfully I did make it home before I got knocked off my feet with a full-blown vertigo episode...and, thank goodness, it has been a mild one, as episodes go.  Still, I've had several days of remaining horizontal (albeit with two pillows under my head...:) with BPPV.  Bit better now, thank you.  Slowly trying to get my life back up to speed, shall we say?  Had 164 emails today when I checked my messages for the first time in over ten days.

And my garden?  Oh dear.  While I was sleeping with vertigo, a terrific thunderstorm blew through with 65 mph winds...taking out the rest of the corn crop and flattening the flowers and tomatoes...stakes, cages, and all.  As I said to a friend, what's next?  Locusts?

We did do a little work this weekend when it was cooler (relatively speaking) and I was steadier, but I have much more ahead of me to repair the damage (Part 2)...and to get the rows ready for a Fall planting of greens.  Still, lest you think it's all bad news from the Way Back, I wanted to share these photos of some of the harvest.  A big beautiful cantaloupe, some slices of juicy tomato; a basket of peppers, corn, and squash...with a mess of purple hull peas; and a cold, sweet Jubilee watermelon...which you've seen grow from a tiny tadpole.  Yum!

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