Sometimes I drop into a funk of missing living on 90 acres. I fantasize about becoming a hermit and living in a little studio on the far side of the creek. I would magically have built this cabin by myself. It would be simple, clean, austere. The weather would be mostly midwestern spring. Not muggy, not hot, not cold, just right. Just right for sitting out in the evening and watching the sun set on the hill above the cemetery. Just right for listening to the creek cascade over the rough, broken up concrete pass. Just right for the redwing blackbirds to return and the occasional coyote to be spotted in the distance. Just right for the trees to have new leaves. Quiet, alone, nothing to do. 

I madly miss those long weekend days spent doing nothing but reading, listening, walking in the woods. All alone with my thoughts. Wednesday can't come soon enough this week, but I will be let down without my aimless, pathless wander. 

A day in the garden would suffice, but they are calling for three months of rain. 


So very grateful this week.


Garlic Surplus

So the garlic "seeds" I planted two years ago have taken over the garden in little stands of green. I dug them up yesterday and separated out all the little bulbs - each with a green shoot. I replanted as many as I could before I was called in to guard dinner while Jovi ran to the store. I probably planted about 25 and I have maybe 45 or 50 still to go. Not sure if they made it through the night, but what's to loose? I brought some in to cook with. I will chop the greens and use them just like green onions. The little baby cloves I will use just like any garlic. Whatever didn't make it through the night outside, I will do the same with. 



I should be ordering seeds.
I should be planting the seeds I have already purchased.
If I were on top of things, I would tell you that I am planting sweetpeas, peas,  broccoli, spinach and more shallots right now.
I would be planting blueberries.
I would be digging up that damn pile of rocks behind our addition and by the retaining wall. I'd be figuring out that drainage problem.
I'd learn how to use the chop saw and I would be building my own garden beds rather than waiting for Jovi to help me.
I would be finishing the rock by our fireplace.
I would be pruning more of the rhododendrons and camellias.
I would be divvying up the honey to distribute to friends and colleagues.
I would have built the chicken coop already.
These are the things I would be doing if I weren't lazy.


Your Farm in the City: An Urban-Dweller's Guide to Growing Food and Raising Animals by Lisa Taylor - Powell's Books

Your Farm in the City: An Urban-Dweller's Guide to Growing Food and Raising Animals by Lisa Taylor - Powell's Books

Event at Powell's on Cedar Hills this Friday at 7:00 PM.

The Longest Months

And they are here
There's no avoiding them
They are the night before the morning
Clouds before the sunbreak

The longest months.

I curl up by anything warm
Under blankets
By the dog
In a bath
Wrapped in a pashmina

The longest months.

Seed catalogs lying dormant
Lonely garden beds
Worn and depressed clumps of grass
Cold toes

The longest months.

If I were to listen closely I would hear the struggle underground,
Little pods splitting
Roots inching their way upward
Life just beneath the surface

The longest months.