her able hands

The equinox may still be a week away, but the peepers and bullfrogs have decided the air is warm enough to take up their cacophonous chorus in the marsh across the road. I slept last night with the window open a crack, the wind howling like a viola above the peep, peep, peep, gruuppurp, and my internal eye turned towards the busy planting season ahead. My body strains against the constraints of the weather, so wet, such boot-sucking mud in the yard. I long to get out there and get it done. I’ll look at all of this rain as a blessing, however, and attempt to get the inside even more organized before I’m called to the sun and soil for months on end. I don’t think I had things prepared last summer, and the chaos made it hard to enjoy my success.

I have about 50% of my seed flats full and on the light stand. We purchased a few more lights to expand with yesterday, and over the next few days I hope to finish getting the super-early seeds planted. So far: Broccoli, Cabbage, Brussels sprouts, Pak Choi (which I intend to pick as baby plants*,) and Tomatoes (16 varieties!) Remaining: Eggplant (5 varieties,) Peppers (8 varieties,) Perennial flowers and herbs too numerous to even count or name. In a few weeks I’ll start the lettuces in the remaining small plug trays. Our cold frame needs one more coat of weather sealer, then the windows get attached with hinges. Bags of soil, composted manure, and peat moss wait in the back to fill it up. Next month we’ll be eating fresh greens! Cannot! Wait!

Thunderstorms all day, lazily rolling through town and into the next county, rain coming down in silvery sheets. Hail and high winds predicted for later today, some whispering of tornadoes, but it’s not like what’s happening in Illinois. I have all of the windows and doors open to let the 67* wind breeze through and blow out the staleness of winter. The air smells like rain, electricity and soil. Parts of the garden have several inches of standing water. What to do with the 2#s of pea seed? If I plant now it will rot in the ground. If I wait too much longer, the soil will be too warm. Alas. This is the Ohio Garden Conundrum.

*Baby Bok Choi! Oh wow, I made some last night using a recipe from the cookbook Cathy sent! What a keeper.

6 heads baby bok choi, sliced in half lengthwise
blanched for about 30 seconds in a pot of boiling water, then set in a strainer to drain.

Saute 2 Tbsp. minced fresh ginger, 2 cloves minced garlic in 2 Tbsp sesame oil.

Add 1/4 cup oyster sauce, 1/4 cup tamari, 1/4 cup dry sherry (I used dry white wine because that’s what I had.)

Simmer for a few minutes, then add brown sugar to taste. I used about 3 Tbsp.

Set bok choi on a platter with cut sides up, drizzle sauce over drained greens.

Make note to self: next time buy double the amount of baby bok choi.

Bookmark It

I was in the shower today, thinking about how well I used to take care of myself in a former incarnation of Kelly. This was before my divorce, and I was going to energy healing school, eating mostly organic, never ever ate fast food, drank very little soda (pop) and I also exercised and supplemented regularly. I did Qi Gong, meditated every day, and walked around a completely miserable excuse for a human being.

This was a huge issue in my relationship and I was unable to keep my judge-y mouth shut about my partner’s habits, some of which I saw as extremely unhealthy to his body and to our relationship. A lot of those habits were ones I had only recently given up. I became very holier-than-thou. I wish I could take back some of that judgment. I see now that a fair balance of what was wrong with us was my unhappiness with myself, and expecting another person to make it all better. It didn’t serve anything, and when it all fell apart for the thousand reasons it did, I walked away not trusting the techniques and tools I had learned to use to take care of myself. It felt futile. If I did all of these things and still lived in an unhappy relationship, still felt unworthy of a fulfilling and loving life, still felt displaced in my own body, then what was the point?

Now I’m back to looking at all of those things I learned to do for myself again, out of necessity. It’s possible I’m in the worst physical/mental health I have ever been in, worse even than the year I did a lot of recreational drugs—because at least then I was out dancing for 12 hours at a time. But I’m at a crossroads again, and the path I’ve chosen in the past has only led me back to the same crossing where I have to face myself again and again. It’s taken me a lot of years to understand something that a lot of people around me saw so obviously a long time ago. I run when scared. I’m not saying I’ve been thinking of leaving, just wishing I could leave this same old self behind somehow. She’s dragging me down. There’s this new person who sparkles all of this energy up through the mud and fog and she wants to have more time out in the open. She wants to make art, to create interesting meals, to learn new things about gardening and building. She needs to write every day. She needs to make love more than once a month.

But I need to stay mindful of why I’m returning to a healthful, mindful lifestyle. It’s not to change anybody else. It’s not to show anybody the light. It’s not a reflection of how Chris does or doesn’t take care of himself, thus making me more or less whole (as if.) It’s not to feel better than anyone else, only to feel better than I have felt. I’ve felt pretty damned wretched.

It’s for me. It’s so I won’t wake up in the morning wondering which brand of crazy I’ll be wearing for the day. It’s so when my kids ask me a thousand questions, and ignore me when I talk, I won’t start to cry from the pressure of feeling like nothing I do or say is enough. So when Chris runs his hand down my back at the end of the day, I won’t want to turn from the meal I’m cooking and stab him in the face with the nonstick tongs. It’s so I can fully embrace the idea that this is my life, and it’s the only one I’ve got, so I’d better stop wasting it with all of this useless unhappiness.

I’m already feeling a difference after a few days taking the supplements SAMe, a B complex, and a Multi. I feel like a boobie for stopping my vitamins, but also want to stop telling myself that I’m a boobie, so I’m just going to say I’m glad I’ve started again. I’m also going to start working with the Bach and Perelandra essences again tomorrow. I’ve spent a few minutes twice a day meditating and deep breathing. I’m stretching—though not diving into the yoga yet. My eating habits are making a slow but steady turn for the nutritious. And outside the Robins and Sparrows have returned, the neighbors ducks waddle into the yard to splash in the giant puddles, and the dozens of Goshawks perform their sky-bound mating dance.

Their cries pierce my anxiety and remind me that taken in the context of the beautiful earth, my worries are so, so small.

Bookmark It

I tend to approach the kitchen with an unusual amount of trepidation these days. For years the kitchen has been my temple, my church, my home, but lately when dinnertime rolls around and I haven’t yet figured out what I’m making, I feel like the teacher has called me to the chalkboard to solve a quadratic equation and I have toilet paper hanging out of the back of my pants and the only thing I know is that I don’t know the answer because instead of studying the night before, I was reading Judy Blume’s Forever under the covers with a flashlight.

I made up a batch of hardboiled eggs a couple of days ago, using the beautiful brown and green eggs from Cheril’s Chooks. See how pretty? Our girls won’t be laying until sometime in the early Fall, but it’s so good having access to fresh, scrumptious eggs from Debra or Cheril.

(more…)

Bookmark It

Dawn has an incredibly well-written and moving essay about her open adoption up at Salon.com today. She speaks to a lot questions I have had about what an open adoption would be like for everybody involved. I know life happens differently for each person, and we all have our own filters, but this writing is so beautiful she makes the story accessible to all. Grab a box of tissues and please go read her essay.

Bookmark It

I have an incredibly talented mother. She’s always working on a dozen beautiful projects, and all of her children, friends and relatives have evidence of her soaring creative spirit on display in their homes. She finally finished this lovely Redwork Quilt she made for herself, and I just have to share it with you all so you can see that I come from good stock!

Here’s the full quilt:

(more…)

Bookmark It