The Garden

Shortly before my birthday in April, I started preparing for my first garden experience. I have gardened before: planted flowers, pulled a few weeds, shaped some shrubs.  But I have never had ownership of a tract of land that I had to maintain and then further aspired to GROW things on.

Last fall I filled a compost bin with food scraps, leaves, grass clippings and newspaper and let the worms go to work.  I had complete confidence in their ability, but I was still amazed to witness the transformation of potato peels and carrot nubs into nutrient rich soil.  I felt obligated to put this gift from the worms to use!


So a quick trip to Grandma's for some tools, tips and reading material, and a respectable order from Seed Savers Exchange and I was GARDENING.  Or more accurately, I was growing seeds in my dining room.

But they were growing ... Fast!

I needed to prepare the LAND for transplanting these seedlings.  April was almost over and on the last day of the month I hosted Garden Party #1 to weed and seed as much land as possible!



We started on the side of the house, ripping out weeds, digging out stumps, and tearing criss-crossed entrenched weed roots from soil.  We planted various bulbs sprinkled wild flowers and grass seed, and prayed that something would grow back besides weeds.  The grass came up beautifully and the flowers, in dry tough soil, bloomed slowly and sparsely.  Much better than weeds!

May was a blitz of demolition (note the dumpster in the picture above) as it was finally warm enough to "open up" the house. The weekends flew by, the veggie plants got bigger and begged to be moved from small peat pots in the laundry room (where they were being hardened off in the warm afternoon sun and evening breezes) to The Garden.  At this point though, the garden was much more theory than veggie-habitable space.


Memorial day weekend, I scheduled Garden Party #2 and we got to work clearing the plot.  This picture of the backyard before we bought the house is a slight exaggeration of how overgrown the land was this past spring.  The space between the shed, on the right, and the rock wall, edging my raised garden bed and not visible on the left, had been cleared back a few feet since we moved in, but the space was thick with old tree stumps, overgrown grape vines and ivy.

It was no small undertaking.
  
Over three long days and with countless helpers the land was cleared.  The was ivy hacked, metal pipes formerly used as grape trellises were cut and concrete posts were dug out, stumps that couldn't be removed without destroying the rock wall were left in place, but the root system was chopped back, and finally the soil was turned and my compost was mixed in.  Late Monday night, Memorial Day, alone I planted peppers, tomatoes, potatoes, cucumbers, broccoli, eggplant, squash, basil, parsley, carrots, peas, beans and with a final exhausted sigh I dumped the contents of a mixed lettuce leaf packet amongst the squash, only half expecting it to grow.


Despite the Squash take over (who could believe those tiny sprouts really needed 4-6 feet of space!), a minor Mole invasion and a few pesky squirrels with a taste for gourds, it has been a pleasant adventure.  I learned how to stake up tomatoes and beans, the function of rocks in edging the garden to keep soil from washing away, and the constant vigilance required to keep weeds at bay. The lettuce has been used in salads and sandwiches, green beans were a special addition to last night's beef stroganoff, and cucumbers and squash are starting to fill out (if only the local wildlife will keep away - deers and squirrels: beware of my husband, I'm not a bad shot either!).  Next year, I'll be one season wiser and prepared with trellises and deer fence!

Dear Husband Returns

So way back in January, Russ returned from his travels.  And I put him right to work! We needed to dig out the driveway in order to get the truck into the shed so he could work on replacing the brakes and clutch, so we'd have a vehicle for this "suburban lifestyle."  He cleared half the driveway of a ice and snow a foot deep and then the sun came out and the snow stopped accumulating and he didn't have to shovel anymore! 

The snow didn't fall much after his return but the cold was relentless.  He wore half his wardrobe out to the shed and 3 pairs of socks to keep warm while he worked on the truck.  He said his base poly-prop layer chaffed against his sunburn (JK!)  Smokey liked hanging out in the garage with Daddy but was too useless to be trained to fetch tools (yet!).  He's not sure mechanics are this thing ...

Frozen

A picture of the frozen cold Hudson River, which actually looks refreshing on this 96 degree day.

We spent most of the winter pretty frozen.  The house is drafty, oil is expensive, and it was a ridiculously cold winter.  I shoveled snow until I had callouses through my Thinsulate gloves while Dear Husband basked in warmer climes grrrrr.  I shouldn't complain too much though.  I was with him in those "warmer climes" when our pipe burst in the laundry room.  Russ just didn't think it would get that cold in the uninsulated addition to the house.  He'll learn.  Just like he knows not to tough that faded red "light switch" on the basement stairs.  Shoot me a message if you don't know what that "light switch" controls.

No serious damage from the laundry room burst (more on the consequences in June's update) just a wet floor.  The water gushed out the back door to avoid further internal damage and Mom arrived on the scene to turn it off before we iced over the neighborhood.  I hauled laundry to mom's house until Russ "fixed" the pipes (more on that later). It always could be worse ... no basins of soapy water to hand wash our clothes ... nor chapped knuckles to show for such a desperate undertaking!

The temperatures dropped to minus 10-15 one night.  The next morning Russ was scheduled to call from "warmer climes." I woke up early to wash my face and ... no water came out of the pipe.  I rubbed my eyes and thought I was loosing it.  I did what any woman home alone in a big drafty house would do, I called the parent most likey to be able to "fix it."

Mom suggested I get in touch with an uncle in the next town who might know someone more local to help me out with what sounded like a frozen pipe.  In this succinct retelling of this episode, I will loose the emotional drama of the moment.  I'd just like to note that for most of the morning I was close to tears and terrified that my house was going to implode.  Two family friends arrived on the scene and saved the day with the tools required to open up the wall and safely unfreeze a pipe that snaked across the entry way and over my 100 year old wood staircase.  Disaster was avoided!!

They suggested that the next night I keep a space heater blowing on the portion of the uninsulated pipe that turned at a right angle to drop to the basement along a very cold external wall.  That night the temperatures again dropped well below zero.  I turned the space heater on and prayed.  I have heard horror stories about electric heaters and I was alone navigating these treacherous homeowning obstacles. I didn't want to mess up.  I took a pile of blankets and a bucket of water up to the second floor with me before I went to bed.  I tossed all night and checked on the heater constantly to be sure it wasn't going to overheat and start a fire in my 100-year old wood frame home. 

I woke up early, checked the water flow in the bathroom which had been on a steady drip since yesterday, dashed down the stairs and turned the heater off.  Something smelled funny.  I followed the heater cord around the corner into the living room where it hooked up with an extension plug to the wall; there are so few wall sockets in this house.  I did a double take and wrenched the still-warm heater cord from the extension cord.  I almost burnt my house down ... despite my precautions.  The plug was melted and mangled; never to be used again.  I laughed at my second brush with disaster as I couldn't with the first. 

I survived and everything turned out okay, so I can laugh.  I am a homeowner.

The arrival of Smokey

Shortly after my last post, Russ and I decided we needed a dog.  We got insider information on new puppy arrivals at the local SPCA.  Due to such amazing tips, we got to preview some of the animals before they got to the SPCA! 

We arrived at the farm on a not-too-cold Saturday in February.  We didn't really Love any of the pups until we got to the stall of a shades-of-brown mutt. Smokey sniffed us out, chased us down and herded us back into the car before we could reconsider THIS (there are more than a handful in my past) spontaneous and life changing decision.  While signing the adoption paperwork we learned that he was a 7 month old Australian Shepherd/Husky mix.

He loves the snow and we love him.

We have a lot of catching up to do and this is not the best picture of Mr. Smokes (as I've started calling him) but I guarantee there will be more.  I just wish I had taken a photo of him while he was in the back of the police squad car feeling sorry for himself!  It's been a wild 5 months since February.