her able hands

I dreamed last night that my chickens all turned into baby foxes and found their way out of the tractor. A guy Chris knew (in the dream only) was telling me I should order eggs from the government from now on because keeping chickens isn’t safe, and that I’m inviting Avian Bird Flu at best, and a return of the Plague at worst. I told him he should stop letting the government tell him what’s true and not true, and maybe think for himself for a change. He then picked up a giant vacuum cleaner and began sucking up a huge bag of different kinds of balls: volleyballs, soccer balls, tennis balls, softballs, golf balls. He was laughing and howling like a drunken frat boy during pledge week, and he had plumber crack.

Good times.

I wanted to follow up on an earlier post about Farmgirl’s Fabulous Green Garlic Pasta. I chickened out on sacrificing my garlic beds, but kept thinking about how good, simple, and versatile the recipe sounded. I can’t figure out how to get a permalink for an individual post on her site, so I’ll just quote the recipe here. The only change I made was to add crumbled black olives to the green garlic sautee.

(more…)

Bookmark It

Chris just called a few minutes ago and said, “Happy Birthday, my love!”

My birthday’s Wednesday, but I knew what he meant…

We got the house! We close either Friday or Monday.

Pinch me.

We got the house!

Bookmark It

Tyler’s taking this terrific Expository Writing class with one of the other homeschool Moms in the area this year. It’s a very lucky thing he’s involved in this, especially because he’s thinking so seriously about school for high school. His writing has taken an enormous leap under her tutelage, and just as importantly, so has his confidence. I think if I had had a writing teacher like her at the right time, I’d be earning a living with my writing by now. Several times in this class he’s missed the mark and swallowed his pride and fear to talk about his confusion, giving the rest of the students the much-needed chance to share their own struggles with the assignment.

This Friday presented another opportunity for him to be honest about not understanding, when he had to turn in his first report on an historical event, and now the class is deep into the issue of how to write an informed paper without plagiarizing.

(more…)

Bookmark It

I’m stubborn and I asked Harvey to plow up part of the garden so I can get the potatoes planted immediately. I just cannot deal with giving/throwing away that much organic seed potato, especially the Rose Finn. I’ve been in a frozen mental space for a week because all I can think about is the waste, and the hunger I have for fresh grown food. I’m trying to remain mindful of the fact that I have a terrible habit of overextending myself with big plans, and then get crushed by the fact that what I’ve decided to do isn’t humanly possible for one woman. I’m attempting to keep it within the realm of manageable.

It only took Harvey a half hour, coming in just as the air was changing, and the thunderstorms were gathering on the western horizon. He seemed to feel much better after he plowed. The neat square of dark earth lay behind him as he sat smiling on his Massey Fergeson with a fat cluster of wild mustard flowers shoved into the breast pocket of his overalls, courtesy of Miss Lila. He had turned in the lush rows of fall-planted clover, and the birds flocked—right away—to the thousands of bugs and worms pulled to the surface. For that moment, everything felt right with my world, a finer balance between want and need satisfied.

(more…)

Bookmark It

This morning is the lush green of a post-rain spring storm, and my regrets are moving to the surface. I should be planting. I should be out there in the big garden with my digging fork, the boxes of potatoes, and a few bales of straw, my fingernails black half moons and smudges on my cheeks. I fear I won’t be able to shake this off, this feeling all of a sudden that I’m giving up my dream even though I know it’s temporary, and that the only part of the dream that’s working is the garden, and that just barely.

I told Harvey yesterday. Harvey is the neighbor behind us who rototills for me, and just retired from the GM plant last week, and has huge plans for doing the farmers’ market with me. He got tears in his eyes when I said it, and then talked about putting up fencing along the property line. He doubts he’ll have the kind of luck that brings two nice families in a row.

Maybe my guilt is feeding my regret. It helped a little that I got to drive by the new house three times yesterday afternoon to see that Sale Pending sign. I remembered that looking out the windows during our little tour on Sunday I saw lots of green. Closer, of course, without such big sky or distance, but green all around. It’ll be fine.

Bookmark It