her able hands

Where the frack did that weekend go? My body is so bone tired I can hardly type right now and am thinking that the cup of coffee I have in front of me isn’t nearly strong enough.

We never had any of that predicted rain over the weekend, just a few sprinkles and then nothing but sunshine and warm breezes. I mostly stayed off of the computer and focused on work outside, balanced with a bit of laundry (hung out to dry), some salad assembly, and a bit of seedling transplanting. I haven’t once picked up my camera, so the promised photos don’t exist. Ah well. Here’s what I did knock down over the past two days:

• Raked out beds around the house and weeded out the overgrown alpine strawberries and heal-all that’s taking over (love my scuffle hoe). Visited the wood mulch pile from last year’s visit with the wood chipper about 50 times with a shovel and a wheelbarrow. The pile is about twenty times bigger than in the photo on that post, minus 50 loads. Oh, my aching body.

• Yoga class. Again, with the ow.

• Mowed and mulched lasagna beds with grass clippings, and started the new lasagna bed along the driveway that I’ll add a layer of topsoil to next month.

• That’s because I got $80 worth of manure dumped last night. One by the driveway for that bed (shared with neighbors) and the other by the gardens next door at the in-laws’ house. I shoveled a lot of that last night, too. Have I mentioned my sore torso? My aching shoulders? My hands that feel like they got stepped on?

• Raked out ivy along side of driveway (not all of it, just about 300′ of the 200′ bed) for more lasagna bed materials.

• Transplanted Bee Balm and Rudbeckia into a little bed I made a year ago with rabbit bedding, right behind the playground set.

• Dug out a bunch of overgrown bedding plants in the front, some of which became compost, and some transplanted to bare spots. This to make room for fruit trees, which I should order this week.

• Planted a dozen fingerling potatoes and thought about doing more, but the manure hadn’t been delivered yet and the beds next door really could use a good run with the rototiller (which I’ll have to borrow). Plus, I promised a friend I’d dry some violets for her, so I need to run over there and dig those up first.

It felt so good to see the property looking cared for after such a long winter, and to feel the earth under my feet, a shovel in my hands. The kids played and I shoveled and raked and dug. I let my thoughts wander but kept bringing them back to my body, to my breath.

I know I did more than that, but that’s all I have time for. Now I need to wake up the kids and get us all out the door. Tyler won’t be riding his bike this morning because it’s raining and cold. It’s meant to drop down to 31º and snow tonight. Hard to believe that when it was in the 80s on Friday, but okay. Spring in the Northeast/Midwest is never predictable.

Monday. Back to it, eh?

Tonight I play catchup on my freelance work.

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This is the new playground, set up in the spot where the rickety old death-trap once stood. You can see him just slouching over there in the yard all sad and rejected and looking even more dangerous than before now that the new kid’s in town.

You know that phrase, NIMBY (not in my backyard) that people toss around in regards to building that they don’t want to look at, or high tension wires, or landfills, or nuclear power plants? When we decided to buy this house, we had to consciously let go of a bit of NIMBY-tude. I mean because we moved from acreage to city and gave up the view of many trees and open sky to look at the back of a McMiniMansion type home. The houses aren’t very attractive and are the first thing you notice when you go in our backyard, especially when the leaves are off the trees. Of course, if that house ever sells, those poor people have to look at our toy-littered, trash-day furniture covered back yard. But if they have little kids, they’ll be happy enough to let go of their own NIMBY attitude because my backyard has become the epicenter for fun and adventure in the neighborhood, as well as for growth and renewal. I’ve been walking around for days, giggling like a little girl and shouting, “Yes, please! Bring it to my backyard!”

You can sort of see the open land behind us, to the left of that house. That’s the west edge of the five acres that are going to be turned into a gated senior village. There’s no way to stop that plan now (and it looks like a fairly sane plan), but other things are swirling around in the atmosphere here. Big things, but smaller than my initial ideas, more manageable scale things, more of a scale that I can take my time, learn and then expand. I don’t mean to be cryptic, I’m just not supposed to talk details with anyone until it’s finalized. But I do think it’s safe for me to say that if it goes through the way it sounds like it will, (I’m told it’s 99% a done deal), I’m going to have a half acre of open land on which to plant and teach and hopefully make some dollars. Half an acre of open, sunny land, in sight of my own home.

Needless to say, I’m trying not to count my chickens and all that, but I do think the last two weeks have been a trip in the river of life, and for once I have completely surrendered to the current. I’ve asked many questions, stated what I want, listened to stories and advice, taken action where it felt right, and otherwise waited and envisioned this scenario (or one very close to it) with all of me, in every free moment. New people have come into my life, people who might turn out to be excellent partners in whatever this venture turns into. Other people who might need my help in a part time, paid capacity. Things are lining up to make it possible for me to be at home.

I feel like magic has been going on under the surface of that river where I can’t see it, but I can feel it gently move me in new directions. Sometimes it’s so scary to feel that tug out in to the middle where the water moves faster and my instinct is to start paddling for shore. But then I remind myself that shore isn’t working anymore. That living in the relative safety of the shallows is making me sick and unhappy. That I’m ready. I’m ready to live my life and earn my living in a meaningful way.

The guy who wants to do a land contract for the house contacted Chris yesterday and they hammered out the terms. Chris goes to see Titus, The Octogenarian Barrister today to get the contract drawn up. They want to move in two weeks from now. We’ll be holding the mortgage for three more years, but they’ll be paying most of it this year, a little more next, and then full the third year. See what I’m talking about?

Also, I attended the second (my first) Akron E4S (Entrepreneurs for Sustainability) event last night. The topic was building a sustainable local food network and industry, and was very well attended. I met beekeepers, CSA owners, landscape designers, writers, large scale farmers, two guys who are starting a distribution program to get local food from the grower to restaurants, the man who runs the Countryside Conservancy, people who work from grant foundations, a woman who manages a Cleveland farmers’ market and is starting a beautiful new glossy magazine on local foods, a chef who uses a lot of locally grown food, and many, many more. My head hurt when I got home, from the hundreds of ideas ringing in the space between my ears.

I forgot how much I hate driving at night, and a forty minute ride on the highway that’s mostly under construction, with my head pounding and my night blindess made for a stressful journey back to Kent, and I slept like a coma patient last night. My dreams were all about organic food, interesting people, writing about gardening and farming and the people who make it all happen, and feeling connected and successful and alive. My headache is gone this morning, and the sun is shining. So we’re meant to get some snow on Sunday…okay, it’s April in Ohio. That’s not a big surprise. My tomatoes and peppers are almost all up, the broccoli and brussels sprouts need transplanted this weekend, and I need to get another half dozen flats of culinary herbs and medicinal herbs started.

Onward into the season!

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It’s definitely spring because Tyler has used half a box of tissues this weekend. Poor guy gets allergies like his father does, long and brutal. I feel mine cranking up too in the form of a headache that’s hung out in my skull for four days and an ever-so slightly scratchy throat.

What a spectacular weekend. We all spent at least eight hours outside both days and managed to get a whole lot of work done. The new wood playground is now in place with the swing beam and both slides attached. It took us four hours to put that blasted tube/spiral slide together and get it attached to the top platform. But it’s done and is already the neighborhood play zone—ten kids made wild fun on it after the birthday party next door.

Let’s see, what else? I’m not feeling particularly narrative this morning as I sip coffee in the dark and hope the headache will go away. I raked out half of the border beds and started a new lasagna bed along the back of the deck (more almost full sun). As I worked I thought about fruit tree placement around the property. I had originally planned to dig out the two ornamental shrubs on the south side of the house to plant the two pear trees as espaliers up against the house, but read in The Garden Primer that pears should not warm up too quickly in spring because of the risk of early buds and late frost damage. Apples might fare better in that spot. Thus the lasagna bed behind the deck. I can put four dwarf fruit trees along the back and espalier them, which will make a great living screen, but then, will also screen out the playground from the house, so maybe that’s not a great idea. Of course, it’ll be a few years before that’s fully filled in, so maybe it’s fine. It’s an ideal spot, facing east, plenty of sun, natural windbreak out of the northwest from the house, and in a dip in the property, so moist enough, but not too moist, it’s also very well drained.

I had intended to get some more seeds in the ground, but that didn’t happen. I’m going to leave work an hour early today and plant some radish, kale, collards, chard, turnips, rutebegas, spinach and arugala. The peas aren’t coming up yet, and I see that a bunch of the Fava beans got dug up by the squirrels. I really do need to fence.

Late yesterday, while all of the birthday party kids played on the swing set, and the parents hung out chatting, we moved the chickens to a new spot. I forked up the top layer of soil and dumped it on top of the cardboard for the new bed first so they had plenty of bugs. I need to get out there and take some pictures (have been so camera lazy lately). We have a huge new mattress of straw/manure bedding to work with—my next weekend project is to assemble a couple of quick and dirty compost bins with garden stakes and fencing. I want to be ready for the first lawn mowing when I’ll have some green to add to the layers of leaves and bedding and finally, finally get some real composting happening on the property. Instead of these random piles I have everywhere that seldom, if ever, get turned.

The chicken wire had rotted and we didn’t notice. When I went out across the back yard to bring some Sesame Noodles to the neighbors who recently had a new baby, I heard an incredible volume of rustling coming from the chicken tractor. They had busted out and were blissfully scratching in the dried leaves on the other side of the cage. Luckily they were so engrossed in their freedom, they didn’t really notice us corralling them and when we tipped up the bottom of the tractor, they all went right under. Chris cut new wire and attached it and now they’re on new ground with a fresh layer of straw and oats, some cracked corn the kids sprinkled for them, and I’m hoping they’ll start laying in earnest. This one egg every three days is just not going to cut it.

In other news, I had a conversation with a neighbor who happens to have worked for OSU extension up in Cuyohoga County, organizing community gardens in Cleveland. She offered to give me a hand if I need to do any grant writing. That same day we got another certified letter from the city about the senior village development. There will be another meeting the following week about an easement for the Residential 3 zoning, which calls for 30% open space with any building project. They’re looking to cut that in half to 15%. This could be a real opportunity for the city to put some sustainable building practices in place—to work on a model for land ownership, housing and community relationship building. My job this week is going to be to talk to everyone I can think of who might want to make this a pet project. I need to act fast because the first meeting is next Tuesday. People assure me that things in town move very slowly, but I don’t trust that.

We’re also talking to the homeowner who works for the housing developer who started this project five years ago. There are two lots still standing empty on the cul-de-sac and there has been zero interest in them for two years. He has made a proposal to the builder to put a playground/park on one lot to make up for the fact that the development will not be finished and the people who bought in with the promise of a community center and playground now have to drive to a park if they want to play like that (the yards are really too small). The other could be an excellent neighborhood garden. It’s wide open, graded, has water and electric. It would just need a shed and a faucet.

Of course, I also did a lot of thinking this weekend about the fact that most of these ideas I have will entail me being in a volunteer position. I really need to learn how to parlay this into for-profit work. I don’t need to get rich doing it, but I need to replace the paycheck I currently collect for my time in the cube farm.

More to say, but out of time. Must wake up the children and get ready for the day. Hope you had a wonderful weekend!

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It was still only dusk when I felt a rumbling and heard Chris say, “What the heck?” More banging. I rolled over and asked him what was going on and he said “I thought it was a nuclear explosion! It’s thundering and lightening.” Um. Why nuclear explosion? What was he dreaming about? Then another huge flash and a long, slow rumble. He got out of bed and pulled the shade aside, revealing a near blizzard flying past the window.

It’s been snowing here since yesterday morning, and we’ve got about a foot out there now, with another 5-7″ predicted for today and overnight. I’m so glad we have no real plans for the weekend, other than tackling some cleaning, sorting, purging. I’ll make some soup today, and try out the recipe for these onion pull-apart rolls I saw online. It’s blowing sideways out there, so it’ll be an indoor play kind of day.

Lila can invite Fatou over to play in the kitchen, maybe they’ll help me peel potatoes and measure flour. Just outside the French doors, on the other side of the deck, the new swingset and playground awaits the spring thaw, but for today, its billowy white blanket continues to grow. Tyler hopes to get some friends together in the basement for a D & D day. Tomorrow, after the sideways wind blows out of town, we’ll all head over to the University for sled riding.

My beautiful Aunt Virginia made that beaded snowflake for Lila for Valentine’s Day and it shines in the window, catching the sunrise in its prisms (if we’re fortunate enough to have a morning without clouds and snow). We have several of these in other windows, and they make me so happy, to have little pieces of art that our loved ones have made with their able hands, bringing such whimsy and joy into our home.

The one big plan for the weekend is one I keep putting off, but can no longer afford to. I’m up against it now, and if I wait any longer, I won’t have decent broccoli, cabbage or brussels sprouts crops. It’s time. I wonder if it’s too late to start some leeks? I think I’ll do a tray, anyway.

My lettuce and bean seeds arrived, and I just loved the little snowman card that accompanied the Seed Savers Exchange order, appropriate, no? I’m excited to try the 3 lettuce varieties I picked up that I’ve never tried before: Yugoslavian Red, Forellenschuss and Reine Des Glaces. I’ll also do Arugula and maybe some mesclun if I still have seed leftover from last year (I think I do). But I’m determined to have head lettuce this year for the first time, ever. And while I’ve felt overwhelmed at the knowledge of how much work my garden will be on top of the full-time job, and have entertained thoughts of just taking this year off, I got a wonderful reminder of why I want to do it last night.

The fridge was pretty empty so we had to make a run to the local grocery store. I’ve always semi-enjoyed shopping there because it’s small and quiet and they have great prices on pantry items. The produce left much to be desired, but for basics, managed just fine. But they’re expanding and doing so while open for business. They pulled down the ceiling and so now it’s tall in there, like going to one of the big box stores. Music blares out of tinny speakers all over the place, set up very high, so it’s this constant mosquito whine of terrible pop music. Things are rearranged just enough to make shopping take twice as long, and I walked around with my list, feeling my consciousness being pulled up out of the top of my head and into the rafters and by the time we finished I felt like crying. Lila was bouncing off the walls. We’d only found half of what we needed, and the produce was abysmal, which means I’ll need to make another trip out Monday after work. And the prices had gone up. A lot. The biggest thing I came home with was a bad attitude and an even worse headache.

I can’t wait till I only need to run to the grocery store for things like dairy. As a matter of fact, in order to ensure that I can put a lot of good vegetables on my table and in my freezer for next winter, I think I’m willing to stay out well past dark all summer long. Seriously.

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The ice still clings to everything it touched and the stories of damage are starting to pile up. At the old house, the neighbor called to let us know that the whole hood and much of that entire region has been without power for almost 24 hours, and that the transformer and most of the power lines are on the ground by our house. I’m sure the basement is taking on water, but we don’t have anything stored down there anymore, so we’re just going to hope for the best and stay away until the weekend if they have the lines cleared up.

Also, one of our big oak trees lost a limb and it landed on our out-back neighbor’s brand new glass top patio table, shattering the glass and spraying it all over the back yard, and bending the table into a 4-legged V. So we’ll be buying a new table and chairs set, as well as paying to have some more tree-trimming done this spring. Thank goodness it didn’t hit their house, and it happened in the winter while everyone was safe and warm inside, not gathered around that table for a summer meal. Phew.

The potential better news is that we may have a buyer for the house—a land contract deal, but they have money to put down and good jobs. We’ll know more next week, but hey, if you’re feeling like you have some extra mojo to spare (I know, I keep begging your mojo, but I know all of those good vibrations have been building up into a wave and the wave is about to hit the shore, and my horoscope this month says this is it…this is the month the house will sell) thanks a bunch for sending some our way.

::sucks in air then apologizes for the really long sentence::

The also good news is that the storm didn’t discourage voters from turning out in record numbers for a primary in Ohio. While standing in line (for an hour) I overheard a vast majority of voters say that they are registered republicans but wanted to cast a democratic ballot. Several asked if they would be able to still vote republican in the general election. Spoilers abound, but that’s the game, right. So many lines get crossed, so many layers to so many issues, it’s all so hard to keep straight on top of the daily to-and-fro. But honestly, this is the first time in my adult life that I’ve felt anything other than deep cynicism. Don’t get me wrong, that’s still there too, but there’s also a vibration of encouragement, of dare I say hope? Well. I don’t know if I hope. Maybe I dream. But I played my part and cast my vote for Barack Obama, then slipped my way up the walk to the house and stayed put and warm for the rest of the night. Went to bed way before the results were in, with higher hopes than perhaps I should have had, but then, I’m seldom in the majority with anything I think or do. Especially in Ohio.

When I got home tonight, after a very long, very busy day at work, I grabbed the camera and skated around the yard to capture a few impressions of the storm.

I sure do look forward to having that barn up so we can get all of our tools and supplies under a roof. It’s a bummer to buy straw, then have the tarp blow away and have it ruined by the rain and ice, no matter how pretty it looks all bedazzled like this. As I walked around I counted more than 20 little piles of crap that need storage, and getting them under cover will certainly get rid of the hillbilly feel our property has taken on since we moved here. Things like chairs, rolls of fencing, extra windows, garden tools, bamboo poles, t-poles, stacks of empty cat litter buckets, hose reels, sleds, a seed spreader (ancient)—just to name a few. Cleaning it up and replacing those piles with plants will make me endlessly happy.

I can almost remember the feeling of this railing on the deck with the hot sun beating down on it, the warm smell of wood and grass and pollen in the air. Walking up from the garden with a warm colander full of beans and cherry tomatoes, maybe a wart-covered yellow crookneck and a stack of neat lettuce leaves and arugula balanced precariously on top, my bare feet slapping where those icy foot prints wait. The kids love to run up these two steps, across the deck, back down the other steps by the back door and then around to do it again. And again. Chasing, laughing, picking up dust and wearing themselves into a stupor that only a popsicle in the shade, swinging in the hammock, can cure.

I’m encouraged to remember that the spring is coming, that the ice may slow it down, but if I also slow down, come down out of my busy mind to look closely I can see that it’s best to just trust that the earth knows better what must come next—that she hasn’t forgotten. The sun is higher in the sky, maybe not high enough to melt this prismatic glaze, but high enough to awaken the senses and pull me out of my long winter slumber.

But not quite yet. Just a little more cold and shadow, just enough to make me bend into it so I can see what’s waiting.

* Steven Wright

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