How bad do you want those raspberries?

Sunday is a day reserved for something other than going to work. It may be a fun day or a work at home day, but it is definitely a day that the alarm is not set and the pace is much slower. I started with coffee and my morning meditative reading, which quoted the principle of Archimedes and the power of the lever when placed just right…the earth could be moved. Little did I know how that would be put into practice later in the day. After several hours of transplanting young seedlings and planting fresh seeds in trays in the greenhouse, I uncovered my dahlia bulbs and put them in soil hoping to give them a headstart. All was watered and I was ready to quit to go put some burgers on the grill when I spotted the raspberry bush by the door, waiting for a day such as this to go in the ground. I already have a raspberry bush, but couldn’t resist this one when I saw it on the nursery racks a couple weeks earlier. I had just the right amount of space for it, and it will only take a minute or two I thought. So I wielded my new digging spade, a bag of compost, and my little plant and started to dig…clink! A little to the left, clink! A little to the right, clink! I got down on my hands and knees, raked away the soil to reveal a very large rock that was comfortably residing in the only spot I had left for my raspberry bush. I removed all the wedged rocks around it, and left a small one in front to use as a fulcrum, and after several tries, it came free…Archimedes was right! What was failed to mention was, though I could move the rock, my female frame could not lift the rock. So, I interrupted Jack from his project of building the state’s best chicken coop and asked for his assistance removing the small boulder, he was happy to oblige. What remained was a huge hole, I would need a second bag of compost, but I had a new home for my raspberry bush. Lessons: learn from the ancients, don’t give up, and ask for help when you need it…because raspberries are worth it!

Armed and dangerous

The ticks are everywhere, armed and dangerous. And their weapons are destructive and can be deadly. So, get ready and be prepared. Staying inside and hiding is not an option. To enjoy our beautiful landscape, and woods, and seashores, we must spend lots of time outdoors. And for people like me, work there. I arm myself, too. Before dressing, I cover my skin with a concoction of jojoba oil carrier infused with lemongrass, cedar wood, rose geranium, and citronella essential oils. If any of you have other additions to this recipe, please let me know! Be sure to attend to bends in your knee and underwear borders and hairlines…they are sneaky and tricky (and evil) little buggers. Once dressed and outside, I spray the outside of my clothing with buzz away, a natural spray of essential oils. I suppose there are more powerful products on the market, but this is my prescription. Not sure where they are found…some say tall grass, I’m going to be bold and say EVERYWHERE, so I keep a lint roller in my car and in my mudroom to roll off my clothing when my day is done. Drop all clothes in the hamper and then shower off and inspect. Tomorrow, do the same, do not let your guard down, and as Jack would say, “this aggression will not stand!”

The routine of it all

Winter, spring, summer, fall, repeat. The days and months and years go by and much remains the same. I do the same tasks, perhaps mastering them better as the years pass. When I set out to write as many daily posts as I could, I didn’t realize that my life is somewhat mundane, and there isn’t always something writeworthy to say. I will check the greenhouse this morning to see if the backup heater kept the temperature moderate, then I will greet my animals… Pumpkin, and Blackie, and Creampuff, and Penelope, and Pete, and the loud honkers while giving them their morning meal. Jack is doing some early maintenance on Clementine, my 2006 Honda, to secure my comings and goings to the yard of an established customer. I didn’t get the chance to read the news this morning as I spent my time researching garden edging for a customer who needs hers replaced. The sun is out and it’s a warmer start than yesterday, which is optimistic. In addition to raking and fertilizeing, my plan is to prune a large Rose of Sharon before it leafs out…(I saw red yesterday on the towering maple branches …the leaves are coming!). When I lay in bed last night, I was grateful for my peaceful life, in a world where that is a luxury to some…I say a prayer for peace, that peace would be threaded through the daily routine of us all.

Morning Stretches

In the dark morning hours, I shuffle downstairs, put on the coffee, feed Max and let him out, giving me enough time to do a routine of morning stretches. This exercise helps me to wake up my sleepy body and mind, ease the aching muscles before I work them hard, and give me a moment of short meditation to start my day. There is something satisfying and energizing in reaching as high as I can toward the ceiling.

The seedlings were doing the same in my windowsill the past few weeks. In order to prevent them from getting too leggy as they stretched for the sunlight, I was routinely turning them to help them dance from side to side and hopefully strengthen their legs. I brought them all out to the greenhouse this past weekend where the “dance” and stretch would happen more naturally as they followed the full path of the sun. …then it got cold, again! Protected only by a thin layer of plastic, temperatures below freezing would surely kill them if not severely hurt their progress. Jack did maintenance early on the heater and filled the propane tank; I assumed all would be well, until I went in late in the afternoon and saw my breath! A new electric heater, fresh out the box and unused sat in the attic. Hoping this would take the edge off, I grabbed that, set it to 60 degrees and went to bed. The sun is rising, and I have fingers crossed that the little seedlings will be stretching this morning for the light and warmth. I’ll keep you posted!

Winds-day

Using my “most powerful hand held blower” I manage to lift leaves and pine needles into a wall of debris, some heading for the woodland border, some fiercely blowing back toward me. Seems like a futile attempt at clean up, but it counts…it’s spring and it’s time to clean up the beds no matter what comes. I am reminded of my last moments with Mom, when I would read to her from the Christopher Robin storybook as we looked out her large pane windows at the outdoors, imagining the Hundred Acre Wood and the community of delightful and mischievous animals just trying to get along and be helpful on a “blustery day.” An avid reader most of her life, who enjoyed historical novels, she settled on Winnie the Pooh and Piglet for her literary pasttime in her last days. So, I’m smiling and thinking of Mom today, a gray start with some snowflakes. I think I will spend time in the greenhouse, out of the weather. Though it’s Tuesday, I wish you all a happy “Winds-day”.

Preparations

“What is Good Friday all about?”, she asked. “I’ve never heard of it, I was raised in California.” …as if this is a day off only for school kids in New England. To the best of my ability, I rambled on to my young co-worker the history of Jesus, coming to Passover and the last Supper and finally his death on a cross…bringing us to this day, Holy Saturday, an in between day as we await Resurrection Sunday, Easter. I was able to easily recite what I believe to be true, but to be honest, do not practice except within the deep confines of my being, in my aloneness. I stepped away from the regular gatherings of my fellow believers a decade ago, and have been walking my faith alone. Her question challenged me.

After leaving my shift at the garden center where people lined up to purchase colorful flowers to bring to their holiday dinners, I went to work in the yard of my customer who told me she would be away for the afternoon, attending services. I enjoyed my time in her beds, raking and spreading fertilizer, even watching a bunny unbothered by my presence peruse the menu in front of him of delicious tulip greens emerging on his plate. And yet her absence planted a seed. She is away preparing herself for tomorrow’s celebration.

How can I prepare my heart? I will be busy filling plastic eggs with treats, and marinating meat, and prepping salads as I prepare to host our family gathering tomorrow….looks like the weather is going to keep us inside, so I will need to vacuum and dust and put away my piles. But I am receiving a nudge to make time for a service at the community church down the street this afternoon, to remember the reason we gather on this holy weekend. And so, I look forward to this day, an in-between day, and hopefully, for me, a day of preparation. Happy Easter everyone!

Raindrops are falling on my head

The sound of the heavy rain woke me at 3:15 am, and though I did not toss and turn, I never fell back asleep, just lay there listening and resting and thinking about the day ahead. Rain days are reserved for a trip to the wholesale yard (or housework in another season). Before I rolled out finally at 5 am I was making a list in my head of fertilizers and early annuals to stock up on. I’ll head that way early and on my return stop at Trader Joe’s for Easter dinner essentials.

The first seedlings were brought to the greenhouse yesterday, April 1. Jack did a little maintenance on my propane heater…so hopefully, it will be toasty in there on this day that won’t see the sun or temperatures rising out of the 30s. Lettuces and cut flowers will begin to show their true leaves soon.

In the yard, the daffodils have opened to join the dance with the hellebores and crocuses. Do your best work, April showers…the gardens and turf are counting on you!

Pack it all

Welcome April, I am glad you are here, even with all the uncertainty you bring. The forecasters predict with entertaining smiles the blustery days and the downpours and the extremes, almost with gladness when we hit a record. But, I work outside. What do I wear, how do I dress with all the multiple possibities on the horizon? There is a small percentage of rain, so I packed a rain jacket and a hat. There is a chance it will break 70 degrees today, so I dressed in layers that can be removed, starting with a down vest. The ground will be wet, so it is a day for Bean boots. Before work I am (currently) attending a writer’s workshop, so I put on some earrings and a somewhat pretty shirt to be presentable…not my typical flannel. I’ll be gone for the day, so I packed a lunch and a microwaved baked oatmeal square to eat on the way. (Thanks Mom for the recipe and the nudge to keep my freezer packed with those for rushed mornings).

My advice to myself is, pack it all, always. Tote that oversized bag filled with tissues and hats and bug spray and suncreen, the extra sweatshirt, the protein snack in case of a blood sugar drop, an extra charged battery and my backup pruners, daily log notebook, rain and wind gear and a couple extra pairs of gloves. I’m sure I have forgotten something, but by season’s end that ridiculously heavy bag that I carry to my car every morning will have proven to be a workhorse because it contains all the things I think I may need. Bring it on, weatherman…I am packed and ready for what April throws at me!

Clean and feed.

Having not seen her property since last November, I wasn’t sure what to expect entirely. An established landscape with mature trees was showered with downed limbs and debris from hard battles fought with a forceful winter. My first few minutes was spent walking throughout the beds and along the perimeter…where to start? I settled on cutting back the ornamental grasses which had provided a visual winter interest and a rest stop for birds…now only a sad reminder of the past season. Next, I raked the leaves from the bases of shrubs and tops of emerging bulbs and perennials to expose the soil so that the first application of organic fertilizer could be sprinkled and raked in. They have to eat too! My oversized tarps were filled and emptied five times, dragged to the back border to add to nature’s compost pile. A warm day and an encouraging start with obvious progress made, though the limbs will have to wait til the next visit, I had to get home and shower before book club!

The first day of work.

A new season has arrived, ready or not. The calendar tells me I must go out to work today. The rainy week that will following tells me it will be a light start. That’s okay, because like the first day of school, even with new shoes, I am a little nervous and a little excited. The covers sure felt nice this morning, I could have easily stayed, but pushed my sleepy body to the floor and eventually to the coffee pot. My trailer is painted, my blades are sharpened, I have new shovels and new shoes (did I mention that!). I am anticipating some remaining snow banks, and some matted wet leaves, but also some returning and emerging bulbs, some damaged branches to remove or mend, some plants to encourage with their first dose of organic fertilizer…and the happy face of my customer as we greet each other after a long respite. So, I’ll pack my lunch, and whistle “hi ho”…for it’s off to work I go!

Credit for image goes to Wikipedia

Tools

I play favorites with tools. The ones I won’t share because I’m really attached. Two come to mind: my felco pruners, in my right back pocket, an extension of my right hand…I can’t leave home without them. And my hori hori garden knife. With those two, I can put in a day’s work. My job this weekend is to sharpen my blades, clean out my tool box and load my Honda with these and the remaining: rakes, shoves, forks, tarps, wheelbarrow, blower, buckets, and more…all to be ready for the first day of work this week. I won’t overwork them, because the mercury is going to dance between 25 and 75 degrees in the days ahead, and the clouds will unleash some water and snow…ahh spring, you are so mischievous!

A note for the reader: hovering at the bottom of my list of tools are my electronic devices, including the one I am currently typing on. These tools are not favored, not because they don’t work hard, but because I don’t understand them. I have heard from a reader that this blog does not translate well to a mobile phone…which may be the preferred platform of the majority of my readers. So, until I can figure out a setting to fix that, I am going to copy and paste this in addition to sending a link to the website.

Change of heart

For as long as I can remember I have been gardening. For equally as long I have hated the woodchuck. Unlike all other uninvited guests to my garden, the woodchuck took full advantage and chowed on the entire row of whatever was planted, or destroyed the prize pumpkin beyond recognition. I’ve always thought of them as evil, selfish, and deceitfully cunning. My vegetable garden in Upton sat above a tall boulder wall. At each rock juncture there would be a crevice, an entrance door, an invitation to set up house right below my delicious crops…giving full access to these voracious diggers to feast at dusk or dawn and make unavailable to me a harvest. They angered me so. Between my household and my neighbor’s, woodchucks in the teens were captured and brought to a “farm upstate.” Fences were trenched 2-4 feet down, dogs kept watch, as did I, and yet they continued to multiply and prevail. They were my arch enemy, and that became engrained in me, despite how “cute” and “smart” they seemed to the outside world of gardening.

…and then, so unexpected, as I was walking along my front roadside bed yesterday morning eyeing the progress of the bulbs, I heard from down the road a bit “Oh no!” I looked to see my elderly neighbor standing over the body of a dead animal, hit by a car (no doubt speeding in my 25 mph neighborhood, but that is another story!) “They killed a woodchuck,” she mourned. I watched as she picked him up by the tail to remove him from the crime scene and drop his limp body in the leaves on the side of the road. She stood over him and motioned a sign of the cross on her body as she was praying for him. I was saddened by the evilness of my heart in comparison to her deep compassion for the loss of a living soul. And I believe I’m having a change of heart. What a witness her actions were to me. I truly hope I, too, can be kind to the creatures that live around me…and as I wrote yesterday, live in a healthy tension to see who outsmarts who, and be grateful for the harvest that remains…without anyone getting hurt.

SeeSaw and the fox

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. (a sentence we wrote in artistic cursive in grade school…to use all 26 letters, memories!)

Max was on his second sleep as Jack and I sleepily sipped our morning java, when Jack spied the red fox skipping across our backyard. Impressed we all jumped to our feet to get a better look at the beautiful creature, feet away from us, most likely hunting for food after a long winter’s fast. With a little encouragement Max was awoken and ushered out to chase the fox to the turkey “sanctuary” next door.

And so it begins, the tension between hungry animals and the chickens, the plants emerging from the ground, the woodchucks and bunnies eyeing my vegetable starts…the fences we dig in and the barriers we build, the sprays we shower to control the bugs…and the ingenuity of the world of nature to outsmart us. I accept the challenge every year, but know that sharing is how it works best…because like back in grade school, the seesaw needed two to play!

Black and White

On a recent guided hike in the Berkshires in February, our leader gathered us in a circle to share our impressions of the landscape around us. Many noticed the animal prints and the crunch of our footsteps, and the quietness of it all. For me, I could stay parked for hours on the little bridge traversing the dark brook with the marshmallow coated stones, I love the black with the white. I am drawn by opposites, contrasts. And so it is with the view out my window this morning…charcoal colored bark and branches dusted with white snow, a haven for a pen and ink artist. Soon the subtle pastels of yellow and lavendar and pink will enter in when the crocuses awake, but for a few hours this morning, the extremes will usher in the day until the sun rises to warm the surfaces and melt it away.

Birds.

I woke to the singing of birds,

I saluted the returning geese,

I admire the red-coated cardinal

Mom rides on the eagle’s wings.

Today it is rain-snowing. That seasonal tease we get from spring. The welcome song of the birds, and the emergence of the bulbs, the swelling of the buds, the shedding of the jacket, the warmth of the sun…just kidding, spring says with a snicker. Yet, I am still hopeful.

Faith.

The first seeds in the ground are peas, planted on St. Patrick’s Day. I can hear my grandfather now, “put your peas in on St Patrick’s Day and you’ll be eating them on the 4th of July!” And I can picture them, little bowls of green peas swimming in milk and warm butter that Grammy placed beside the large dinner plate in a space of honor. I plant sugar snaps…because I like to eat while I am picking, and because I’m too lazy to shuck, I just cook and eat the whole thing. A week after the peas go in, the greens get sprinkled on the lightly raked cold, damp soil. The seeds resemble little specks of dirt layed innocently in the soil, removed from their neat packages to be exposed to sleet, and bugs, and rabbits, and worms…it must seem like a big, old, evil world out there. And yet, they thrive, and give in abundance. Awaiting tomorrow’s return of winter weather, under a layer of soil are my peas, leeks, arugula, lettuces, spinach, kale, and carrots. Be well, my little ones!

Indoors, are the more pampered ones. Thus far, nestled in seed trays with covers are peppers, parsley, onions, eggplant, snapdragons, and marigolds. Some are stretching for the sun out my upstairs windows and must be rotated and tickled to keep them strong before they move outside to the greenhouse in April.

To plant is to have faith. Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed,…Nothing will be impossible for you.'" Book of Matthew

Forced.

The first day of spring came in so beautifully, mild, but still below freezing, with some peaks of sun. After my morning chores in the barnyard, I walked around the acre-plus perimeter to survey who was peeking out to greet the new season. Little nubs in the ground, some jagged tops show the tulips are trying, but are too delicious to the bunnies, they may not make it to flower, fingers crossed. Swelling early daffodils give hope for new color in the pool bed soon. All on their own, they muscle through the frozen ground in search of sunlight and warmth. Quite miraculous really.

I got an idea and went rummaging for my pruners through my tool bag that had been wintering in the corner. Once in hand I strolled out to the still-snoozing forsythia and clipped several branches, just a healthy pruning I justified. But I was really forcing them to leave their slumber and join me inside in a vase with a strong encouragement to bloom ahead of schedule.

My one planned task today was to give my trailer a fresh coat of paint. Jack was powerwashing it first, which gave me an hour or so of drying time to do something else. I took my spring rake off the nail, stuffed my oversized tarp under my arm and marched to the roadside bed to do my first clean up of the season. Gently removing clods of wet leaves revealed the yellow foliage of emerging daffodils searching for sunlight and energy after the long winter in darkness. Like forcing a child out of bed on a cold schoolday morning, I removed the warm blanket from my wintering bulbs, forcing them to engage in the chemistry that is so good for them. Clearing the 200 ft road frontage filled several tarps and my body felt engaged, almost ready, a little bit excited about coming out of hibernation and participating in the dance that is soon to be in full swing. I put my tarp back in the shed, satisfied. Now where is my paintbrush?

The last day of winter.

Only a few snow piles and banks remain from the true New England winter we have just enjoyed. The brown grass from last fall, the bare branches of trees soon to bud, and the remnants of my winter pots are all that give color to an otherwise gray landscape. Yet I want to remember this past winter especially. We got snow before fall left us, and it seemed to snow all the way through the 90+ days, giving us that magical blanket of white. Many days were too bitter cold to venture out, but when the mercury rose a bit, I took a couple occasions to don my snowshoes and trudge through the wooded “trails” and even fall to make a snow angel or two. My two favorite travel companions and I did not head south to warmer weather, so we kept the fireplaces glowing and caught up on chores that we would typically push off for another day when we weren’t having fun in the sun. I ordered my seeds on time and tended to indoor transplants. I did some reading curled up in a blanket, and began a habit of drinking hot water with lemon. And, of course, celebrated abundantly the Christmas holiday and my birthday. I simply survived this beautiful winter because right in the middle, literally, my beloved mother passed away, took her last breath and stopped me in my tracks to hoping for more. More time with her, more visits with her around the pond when the swans will return, more time to welcome the robins back together, one more time to hang her mother’s day planter, one more walk in the spring air and say hello to the forsythia she loved so much, one more time to help her with her spring cleaning, one more time to eat harvested peas I planted in March. She was and is such a beautiful soul. So, as I say goodbye to winter, and soon hello to spring, I know she will be with me as I turn my soil, and make soup from the harvest, and greet the birds, and…it will be all new. Mom, I love you xo

We lost power last night

We lost power in the night. The heavy snow of the weekend bent the bows of trees onto power lines I imagine. It was a fairy paradise on the back path as I stomped through the cold whiteness and ducked under the curved saplings weighted by the heavy snow, creating shelter for the forest dwellers. Not such a happy thought for the power line workers who wrestled the limbs from the wires so that I could wake and have my morning coffee without struggle. I am grateful for them. I sit here on a quiet Monday morning with my dog, Max. My overstuffed chair sits facing eight glass panes through which I see a still landscape, so beautifully covered with white, it causes me to pause and write. But I don’t even know who my reader is. This is a test. To see if I can still put a thought to paper. And if so, is this the place for it? My December was a trial, and I want to write about that. My new year is unknown, and I want to write about that. But I am a gardener, and this is a garden blog…I think. I am a small shop owner, and this could be a place to write about small business…I think. But where do I write about my mother who has taken a turn to a place that feels like a final chapter, a chapter I would like to write about? Where do I write about the struggles I have with time management and all the projects I would like to accomplish…and boast about them when I do? Where would I write about what I see when I snowshoe in the winter and the joy of returning to sit by the fire and sip hot cocoa? …and how we lost power last night, and when I realized that at 330 in the morning I wondered how I was going to make coffee and that I should have filled a pot with water so that I could flush a toilet? So, this morning, I’ll write that here, and see what comes of it.

'Someday I'm going to have a store...

with a tinkly bell hung over the door…” So begins a book and poem written by Rachel Field, a book I purchased when my daughter was born in 1988. I read it aloud to her often, but she was busy learning to roll and discover her voice and place in this world, and I, well, I was really getting into this book! Someday, I WAS going to have a store. It happened, I opened the doors to a small garden center that grew from an industrial wasteland into a lush oasis for local plant enthusiasts, a place where I may have met you. I purchased, and stocked, and listened to you, and restocked, and marketed, and collected money, and counted inventory…and planted seeds. I loved it, so much that I opened a second lovely place just around the corner, where I learned about local artists needing a storefront, and struggles of retail in marginal locations, and the magic of trying, the real American dream! I am certain I met many of you there, where Suzy Sparkleberry was born. I loved having a store. Through twists and turns of life, the doors of my “stores” closed and my paths took a different direction. And today, I find myself stocking shelves once again. The opportunity has arisen to pop up a shop in the garden center where I am employed. I reconnected with some of my favorite vendors, local and distant; I am filling a space with twinkly lights and Christmas bells, and beautiful paintings, and candles so tasty to smell, and beautiful soaps to gift to your favorite friends. I suppose I can’t help myself…I have a little store and I will say “What can I do for you today?” I sure hope you come by and say hello and perhaps find a Holiday decoration to add to your favorites or a perfect gift that will bring a smile.

General Store by Rachel Field

Someday I'm going to have a store
With a tinkly bell hung over the door,
With real glass cases and counters wide
And drawers all spilly with things inside.
There'll be a little of everything:
Bolts of calico; balls of string;
Jars of peppermint; tins of tea;
Pots and kettles; and crockery;
Seeds in packets; scissors bright;
Kegs of sugar, brown and white;
Sarsaparilla for picnic lunches,
Bananas and rubber boots in bunches.
I'll fix the window and dust each shelf,
And take the money in all myself,
It will be my store and I will say:
“What can I do for you today!”