Monthly Archives: March 2009

Signs of Spring

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1. Redwinged blackbirds are back in force, causing a ruckus down by the river.

2. Geese are flying overhead, retracing the routes they followed a few months ago.  They settle in fields and on the water, honking away.

3. Vultures are back as well, soaring high overheard in their slient graceful circles.

4. Killdeer fly low over the frozen meadows, whistling out their songs to each other.

5. Runners have come out of the woodwork.  How can there be so many?  Saturday morning at 7:00 I saw scores of them.  Where were they when I was plodding out the miles in January?

6. Teenagers, who already shun outerwear even on the coldest days, are baring arms and legs.  It’s 45 degrees!  Bust out the flip flops!

7. It is muddy.  The children love it.  They stomp in it, scoop it, splash it about.  They squish and shape and mold it.  Some roads are treacherous with the slip and slide.

8. We set the table (well, the small one from the porch) out on the hard lawn and had dinner outside for the first time this year.  That was all my daughter’s idea.  Then, in the night, the wind blew over the chairs we forgot to put away.  Wind, too, is a sign of spring.

9. The long days make for more play time for all of us.  Daylight savings, that ridiculous habit, means the children fall asleep too late and can’t wake up in the morning.

10. I am starting to itch for summer.  Where did I leave my sandals?

Seeds

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In January of every year I look forward to busting out the various seed catalogs and ordering seeds for spring planting.  January may seem a little early but it is about right.  If something isn’t available an early order gives me time to order something else, or to order elsewhere.  Plus it just gets me fired up.  Thinking of fresh produce in the dark days of the year helps remind me of the warm days that really are not that far away.

This year I spread the catalogs and was planning what to order and from where to order it, when I serendipitously uncovered, buried on the desk, an order form for seeds.  It was for a fund raiser for my son’s school.  They were from a local company, High Mowing Seeds.  Their selection was more limited than I had been looking at in my many catalogs, but they had pretty much what I needed.  I don’t know why I hadn’t looked at this company before.  So I put away the catalogs and filled out the order form.

Yesterday the seeds arrived.  It took a while, of course, but I am still in good shape.  Next weekend is the weekend to start planting.  Not outside, of course.  The ground is still frozen.  I will take down the foam cells from the shelf in the garage and plant onions and leeks.  Last year I planted both of these and they grew well once I transplanted them.  I can hardly wait to get my hands dirty.  In the past the children have helped me and I hope they are just as eager this year.  It is a fun family project.  Plus, we can all get a little muddy together.

Last year about this time I did plant onions but not many.  The seed packet I got from Seeds of Change contained only seven seeds.  It was supposed to have contained about 100 seeds.  That wasn’t what I was expecting.  I wanted to plant right then and so I couldn’t wait to order more seeds.  So I went to the hardware store to find some.  They had seeds but no onion seeds.  Apparently no one plants onions from seed around here.  They buy onion sets, the mini bulbs, and plant those instead.  So I bought leeks.

That purchase was an accidental discovery.  We had lots of leeks.  They grew well.  The lasted a long time.  They were delicious (those grilled leek, summer squash, portobello mushroom sandwiches with melted cheddar were dreamy) and I want to plant them again.  I am hooked on leeks and I can hardly wait until they are ripe.

Seeds of Change did me right this time around.  I called and told them what happened and they sent me a fresh packet of onion seeds.  Their seeds have been great and now I know their customer service is great as well.  I will order from them again.  High Mowing Seeds have been great as well.  I planted some lettuce from seeds a friend gave us and it was the best lettuce of five varieties we have grown.  I am guessing I will have some good success all around.

I need to bust out the plant rack from the basement to set the seeds trays on.  I will plant fewer plants indoors this year.  Cucumbers will do fine if I plant them outside, maybe even better.  In a few weeks I will plant tomatoes, and maybe melons.  The rest can wait until the ground thaws.  I will also give some seeds to the kids.  They can have their own corner of the garden.  They won’t be planting onions in their plot, however.  I’ll let them grow something they might like.

March is here, baby.  Let’s get planting.

Feeling Alive

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At the moment, my son is driving his toy cars off an old board onto the frozen lawn.  The sun is shining.  His down jacket is unzipped.  His pant cuffs are soaked through.  He is, although not consciously, supremely happy.  Watching him makes me so as well.

Today I had a meeting in town.  I rode my bike to get there.  I should ride my bike more often, or so I have told myself many times.  Doing so today made me realize that I have been right.  I rode only about three miles each way–not far–but I felt great.  On the way in, the temperature was in the twenties.  Leavensworth Road, my route to avoid traffic, was frozen.  It was so frozen in a couple of spots that I had to walk.  I felt the cold, the wind, my muscles moving.  I felt alive.

It seems so simple:  I take a little more time to ride rather than drive and I feel so much better.  The only disadvantage to biking is that it takes more time.  Most of the time that isn’t even a disadvantage.  As long as I have the time to take, it is worth it.  The ride home was muddy.  Leavensworth Road had thawed out.  I got a little splattered but I had fun, I got a bit tired and I smelled the world rather than just zipped by it.  I need to do that more often.

On Saturday I stood in front of 400 people and presented a bunch of information about paying for college.  I had planned for it and I had been looking forward to it.  Five minutes before start time I realized that I felt a little nervous;  not much, but enough that I forgot to introduce myself.  Other than that it went well.  I think I provided enough information in a way that worked for most people.  Driving home (too far to bike that day), I felt great.

I realized that the positive feeling came from my pushing myself.  That was the largest crowd to which I had presented, and the topic is one that those present feel is important, even have anxiety over, so I took some risks.  I took a risk even volunteering to do it.  Because I took risks, however, because I stepped outside my comfort zone, the reward was high enough to make me feel pretty good.

I need to take on these challenges more frequently.  I need to take risks, to push myself, to try new things.  A lesson for me, one I have learned more than a few times, is that I need to simply step forward and try.  When opportunites come my way that seem intimidating, I need to say yes.  It is easy to stay within my comfort zone.  It is easy to do more of what I already know.  But if I want to feel alive, I need to make things a little harder for myself.

On my ride this morning, my biggest fear was not that I would be late or that I would forget how to ride, but that I would get stuck in my peddle clips.  I have a tough time getting out of them sometimes.  I practiced on the driveway on my way out, in fact.  Nonetheless, when I had to stop to cross a big patch of ice, I could not get my left foot out, leaned that way, and hit the dirt, literally.  It made me grumpy for a moment, but then I remembered how fortunate I was to be where I was, doing something so amazing.  I took a fall, but I got up and kept going.

That’s the thing.  I can’t be afraid to take a fall.  So I get a little dirty and my ego gets bruised.  So what?  No one but me even had to know it happened.  So often we are afraid to let others know we have made a mistake, and that makes us afraid to take a risk where we might make a mistake.  But I don’t want to sit with friends and tell them how I almost tried something but didn’t.  I want to give them a good story, and often the best stories are ones where we fall down but then get up and keep going and, ultimately, are rewarded.  That is the kind of story I want to tell.

If we take risks enough, we feel comfortable, given some time.  We can get in the groove.  Before long, we can be happy without even knowing why.  If we are lucky, we are happy without even being aware of it.  And if we take the time to pick up our pile of toy cars from the grass, we might even get the chance to try it again.

Thinking About Tea

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Coffee or Tea

We used to drink a lot of tea.  We had a whole drawer in the kitchen devoted to tea.  We would have a dozen different types of tea in that drawer at any given time.  We don’t drink so much tea anymore.  It is too bad, really.  We drink coffee in the morning every day, not tea.  The drawer has turned into a plastic box.  The prominent location has shifted to inside the pantry closet.  Tea has taken a back seat.

I used to drink coffee only sometimes.  My wife spurned it, so I mostly drank it when she was not around.  Occasionally I would make some when she was home, but most of the time we both drank tea.  Then I got a good coffee maker.  I drank more coffee.  I then I turned her, somehow, into a coffee drinker.  Now she drinks coffee daily.  Some husband I am.

I still feel that tea is more civilised.  It seems more pure.  That is bogus, of course.  It is merely that I make it that way, like we make more of fancy jeans and colorful cell phones than is warranted.  Coffee has certainly become more chi-chi, but tea still has its quiet nobility.  It is healthier and simpler.  With coffee, you pick beans, dry them, roast them, grind them up and then pour water on them.  With tea, you pick leaves, dry them and then pour water on them.  In these dire times, who can waste all those extra steps?

Not that I am switching to tea.  I still drink some tea, and I have considered drinking tea instead of coffee.  Really, I don’t need to drink either, but a hot drink on a cold day sure is a fine thing where I come from.  So I will brew on.

I like the idea of drinking more tea, however.  I am going to start that right up.  I am going to have some tonight, in fact.  It is chilly.  The fire is out and I won’t start one this late.  I could use some hydration and coffee won’t do that.  I did have a foamy espresso drink this afternoon.  Boy was that good.  It was decaf, but still, it’s not filling the well, just flushing the pipes.

Anyway, I have been thinking about tea.  It is good stuff.  I wonder, if I can manage to take the kitchen real estate required to start the tea drawer back up, will I drink more tea?  That is an experiment worth trying.  But is tea more important than pot holders?  I’ll have to think about that for a bit.

Snowman Evolution

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See yesterday’s post for a pic of the snowman in full regalia.

What the Heck Happened in the Dark?

What the Heck Happened in the Dark?

Frosty the Snowball

Frosty the Snowball

One More Snowman

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Born at the End of the Day

Born at the End of the Day

At the moment, water drips from the eave onto the deck.  It almost sounds like it is raining.  It is, however, snowing.  It has snowed for much of the day.  It was coming down thickly when I left for work this morning and it was snowing heavily again when I came home.  It comes down now.

The children made a snowman with their mother after I returned from my grueling labors attempting to educate high school students.  “It was the easiest snowman I have ever made,” exclaimed my spouse as she returned from the sculpture project.  Apparently, the snow was perfect for such activity.  The children stayed outside for a while after this.  When I went out in my tall black boots, the wet snow covering my bare head, to gather them for our evening meal, they had started on a “snow wall.”  This was a series of large snowballs, such as the ones one might use to create a snowman, lined up next to the driveway.  Their art knows no bounds.

We may get more snow.  March is fickle that way.  Two days ago we were out enjoying the warm air, a sweater more than enough.  Today we have snow.  Since we still have the majority of the month left, I imagine we will get some spring and some winter before April comes around.  This could be the last snowman, however.  Perfect snow like this doesn’t come around every day, even in March.

Not So Selfish

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I watched our neighbor this morning drive along the road and pick up all the cans and bottles that my children and I gathered and placed by the roadside yesterday.  I had mixed feelings about this:

1. I was excited that someone else would take the time to clean up.  We were planning to head out shortly to pick all of those up.  The children, in fact, were looking forward to it.  But someone else beat us to that.  I don’t know if they were happy we had gotten things started, or upset that we had dug the ugliness from hiding under the winter’s layers.  I hope the former.

2. I was disappointed because the children really were excited to follow up on our previous day’s project.  When I told them what was happening, and they looked out the window to see for themselves, they were disappointed as well.  But I told them we could head up the road in the other direction and they got fired up again.

Today’s haul was a lot bigger.  We walked a lot farther, for one, but there were just a lot more items to collect.  We could not carry them all there were so many, so we left another batch to be picked up by someone.  My wife walked the kids up the road while I went for a run.  I met them on my way back and she ran herself.  I carried most of the load for most of the way.  The children wanted to carry everything they collected–they each had a bag–but the bags got too heavy for the longish walk.

We picked up three dozen beverage containers and left about ten to collect later.  Over 50 empty containers.  That is just way too many.  That was in a not-quite-a-mile stretch of road.  The nutty thing is how many I saw while I was running, farther up the road–at least as many.  The idea of that many containers getting tossed makes me squinch up my forehead.

I have tossed empties out the window myself.  I am not proud to admit that.  It happened only once, when I was a teenager.  There were a few of us in a Chevy Suburban drinking beer in the back on a long drive.  The driver was clean and we were being responsible–just a couple apiece over a couple of hours.  But we were underage.  We were afraid we would get pulled over by the police for some reason, I don’t remember why, so we tossed the “evidence” to the roadside.

The thing is, that memory still haunts me.  It wasn’t my idea and I was not the one to do the tossing, but i rue my abetting that act.  I don’t even have the consolation that we were pulled over.  I try to make it up now.  I imagine who tossed these glass bottles and aluminum cans and create my own stories.  I am proud that my children are so excited to clean things up.  They do not creat such stories.  They trust my answer to their question of who would toss their trash out the window.  Sometimes it is a mistake, I tell them, and sometimes people do things we would not do ourselves.  They have entered the world of trying to understand the array of human motivations.

I can’t imagine they will ever solve that mystery.  No one ever has.  But I hope they pursue it their whole lives.  It is a mystery that offers many questions worth asking.  Those questions make the mystery worthwhile.  As a parent, I will do what I can to engage them in the mysteries of the world.  I hope all of them are not as dirty as this on

Getting Muddy and Gathering Trash

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Those were the two highlights of the day.  My wife went skiing for most of the day.   I stayed home with the children.  We stayed inside for a bit to let them get their craziness and creative play out.  Then we had lunch of tortillas and cucumbers.  Then we headed outside.

We took a walk down the road.  We spent a good deal of time exploring the ditch that runs along our road.  The town road crew has spent lots of time over the past couple of years clearing and improving road drainage in town.  Last year they got by our way.  The ditch is filled with ice, which is covered in sand and dirt, which is mostly just under the surface of the flowing melting snow.  I was cautious about letting the children walk on it at first but it was solid and we hopped back and forth all down the road.

We also picked up trash which consisted mainly of discarded beer cans and bottles.  There were many.  The children had fun both spotting them (“I see one under that bush!” “That one is buried in the sand!”) and fishing them from their various hiding places.  We couldn’t carry them all so we set up stations of them along the roadside.  We wouldn’t have been able to carry them back either so we left them to pick up later, cairns of aluminum and glass for drivers to wonder about.

We cut across the field to get back home.  It was rutted and frozen and muddy and wet.  Not all in the same place, of course, but we found some mixed terrain.  By the time we made it back, the children were wet and muddy.  “My feet are chilly,” explained the boy child.  His boots were soaked through.  Plus, he hadn’t bothered to wear socks.  Despite this, they stayed outside for a while before heading in to clean up.

They played outside together for a good chunk of time after they did get cleaned up.  Then they had to clean up again.  They each went through three sets of clothes today, not including the pajamas they wore this morning.  They got wet and muddy more than once.

Last summer I bought a pair of tall rubber boots.  They were one of the best purchases I have ever made.  Those things can take me anywhere and I am confident going.  Hike across a wet muddy field?  No probs, babe.  Step in a ditch of meltwater?  Easy.  Hike to meet the bus in the rain?  You bet.  Those puppies served me well today.

Tomorrow I will need to head down the road and collect those bottles and cans.  I hate seeing all that garbage on my road.  What gives with someone who will toss their empties for someone else to clean up?  That’s crap, if you ask me.  Heck, even if you don’t ask me, it’s still crap.  In any case it will give me a good excuse to take the kids for another walk.  Maybe we can see if the spiders are still crawling all over the grass by the big culvert.  And if they don’t want to come with me, it will feel good to gather the refuse and see that it makes it to the recycling bin.

Somebody’s got to take care of the empties.  If the end user won’t do it, that selfish butt, I will take it on myself.

Bath Water

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My kids are way into taking baths.  They love a long warm soak with some toys.  They love to float.  unfortunately for them, we often don’t have time for that.  Well, I suppose we could have time but I also know that they need to get to bed at a decent hour.  Tonight they got to get one in.  When they are dripping and singing, I hear genunie happiness.  Why can’t we all find such happiness in such simple pleasures?

When my son gets out of the bath that kid is pink.  I call him Pinky Boy.  When he gets out I often sing “PINKY BOY!” in my best operatic voice.  He gets a kick out of that, almost as much as I do.  The kid is just plain old pink wherever he been in contact with the warm water.  It amuses me.  He takes it in stride.   I love that kid.

My daughter likes to stretch out and feel as weightless as possible.  She dips her hair in the water and smiles.  She doesn’t get pink.  Apparently she got my skin.  They both tell stories and sing in the tub.  Seriously, they are just plain old content when they take a bath.

I took a bath recently.  I managed to keep it a secret for a while but before too long the children wanted a piece of that action.  They came to visit and before I knew it were shucking their duds to climb on in with me.  It got a little crowded.  I ceded the tub.  I did get some good quiet time in.  They were the ones amused when they saw me reading a magazine.  Paper and water.  I would never let them mix those two things.

They do tend to get cleaner in the shower, but it is hard to deny them a bath at least once per week.  We now have some filmy tepid water slowly draining.  They splashed so much tonight that it managed to leak through to the first floor.  Rascals.  They are cozy in towels.  Cute buggers.

Ripping One, for Adults Only

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Recently Apple decided to allow its users access to a program that had been banned from the iPhone because it was considered objectionable.  A fairly recent CNET article sums it up nicely:

After initially balking, Apple finally relented to the extremely influential fart joke lobby. . .and permitted applications such as Pull My Finger and iFart Mobile (ranked 3rd and 10th, respectively, among paid App Store applications at the moment) under what was described as a “Mature” section.

That pretty much kills me.  An application designed to provide a variety of flatulatory phrases can only be offered if is labeled “mature.”  Personally, I think fart jokes are immature, which is why I find them the apex of true humor.  Whatever, Apple, but thanks for lightening up a little.  Now it’s finally worth it for me to buy an iPhone.