On winter & spring.

Last fall, for a hundred reasons, I didn't plant a single bulb, in fact I barely touched the gardens around our house; I'm not entirely certain I winterized anything out there.

I let the gardens fall under the weight of frost and then snow. All winter long, I ignored them, buried deep just beyond my window panes.  I watched the snowflakes pile one on top of the other until I could no longer see the markers at the end of the garden path or the tip top of the peony bushes that still stood tall in their metal cages because I didn't cut any of the dead branches back at the end of the season.  I sat by as the wind whipped snow into first ankle deep, then knee deep then, in spots, hip deep drifts.  Our back yard was a blanket of fluffy white, mostly quiet and tranquil except when the sun deigned to make an appearance.  Then it hurt my eyes to look outside, the glare bouncing on the razor sharp edges of snowflakes.

Slowly, though, as the winter wore on, I began to think about what was buried deep beneath the frigid mounds.  I began to plan for them again. A thought here, a note of something new to plant there. Sporadic, at best, but thoughts nonetheless.  

By Easter, I was ready to rake and pull and cut and make room for something new and lovely out of the fallow and silent.  I had my rain boots on and my rake and clippers in hand, the sun was warm on the top of my head and my expectations of this early forage into the gardens were low - very low. 

So you can imagine my surprise at the small shoots all over the place, carrying on as if I hadn't neglected them at all. Green leaves curling into the sun, reaching up. From the darkness of winter comes forth abundant spring.

The truth is, we all need that rest, the cold cover of a winter season.  And I found in those moments, as I stared in wonder at my garden's ability to persevere and press on, that I appreciated those fledgling green curls of leaf so much more than I ever have before.  In spite of all of that darkness - or perhaps because of it -  we still have the ability to bloom.

Last fall, for a hundred reasons, I didn't plant a single bulb, in fact I barely touched the gardens around our house; I'm not entirely certain I winterized anything out there.

I let the gardens fall under the weight of frost and then snow. All winter long, I ignored them, buried deep just beyond my window panes.  I watched the snowflakes pile one on top of the other until I could no longer see the markers at the end of the garden path or the tip top of the peony bushes that still stood tall in their metal cages because I didn't cut any of the dead branches back at the end of the season.  I sat by as the wind whipped snow into first ankle deep, then knee deep then, in spots, hip deep drifts.  Our back yard was a blanket of fluffy white, mostly quiet and tranquil except when the sun deigned to make an appearance.  Then it hurt my eyes to look outside, the glare bouncing on the razor sharp edges of snowflakes.

Slowly, though, as the winter wore on, I began to think about what was buried deep beneath the frigid mounds.  I began to plan for them again. A thought here, a note of something new to plant there. Sporadic, at best, but thoughts nonetheless.  

By Easter, I was ready to rake and pull and cut and make room for something new and lovely out of the fallow and silent.  I had my rain boots on and my rake and clippers in hand, the sun was warm on the top of my head and my expectations of this early forage into the gardens were low - very low. 

So you can imagine my surprise at the small shoots all over the place, carrying on as if I hadn't neglected them at all. Green leaves curling into the sun, reaching up. From the darkness of winter comes forth abundant spring.

The truth is, we all need that rest, the cold cover of a winter season.  And I found in those moments, as I stared in wonder at my garden's ability to persevere and press on, that I appreciated those fledgling green curls of leaf so much more than I ever have before.  In spite of all of that darkness - or perhaps because of it -  we still have the ability to bloom.

Mama says there'll be days like these...

I had one of those days yesterday.  You know the kind that you sort of want to forget, but really all you can do is laugh because, after all, isn't this life?  And someday, won't I want to remember the day Finn went streaking 3 times?

I got my early morning workout in.  I met my lovely friend for a walk and chat before the heat of the day made exercise impossible.  I gardened and gardened and gardened, pulling overgrown plants that I'd wanted to remove for weeks now, tending all the little radish and cucumber and squash shoots, feeling relatively proud of my little peas that are starting to make their presence known.  Weeding and watering, weeding and watering.  My hands and legs and feet were a crusty, muddy mess, my back was sunburned and my hair had a tree's worth of sticks tangled up in it.  I may have gotten a little absorbed in my task.

Finn, however, felt that being naked was more his style yesterday.  I glanced up from digging a huge cluster of overgrown something out of the garden, only to see little pink buns race past me.  Luckily our back yard is pretty well shielded from the street, but I dropped my shovel quickly and chased down my little exhibitionist. I explained that we need to keep clothes on when we are outside, re-dressed him, and went back about my business.  I was huffing and puffing and trying to get my shovel all the way under the root cluster (because I do not want these things back!) and I looked up to find Finn - naked again - in the bird bath (it's actually an in-ground water fountain, but we call it a bird bath.  It's not very big, so really, he was only wet up to his knees from splashing, but he had his little naked buns sitting on a nice warm rock).  I plucked him from the water, reminded him again that we need to have clothes on when we're outside, and sent him on his way to make a construction site in the sandbox.

I went back to my digging and sweating and cursing the blasted root systems that are found in nature, when it occurred to me that I couldn't hear construction site "noises."  In fact, I didn't hear anything.  I walked around the side of the house - no Finn in the sandbox.  I walked all the way around the house.  No Finn anywhere.  I walked into the house, and the minute I opened the door, I heard a little voice say: "Just go back outside, Mama.  I'm making a snack."

And there he was, standing on his stool at the counter, half a loaf of bread spread out before him, pouring pancake syrup all over it.  Stark naked.

The appliance repair man came to fix the dishwasher - thankfully, Finn was fully clothed at the time and remained so for the duration of his visit.  The dishwasher started up immediately for him, I'm assuming just to screw with me.  I almost had a heart attack, partly because I couldn't believe it had started and partly because I was excited to bypass that bill.  Unfortunately, it stopped almost as quickly as it started, but after an hour of fiddling around and doing appliancey-things, it's now fixed and we are back to the convenience of a dishwasher.

Our baby-sitter showed up about the same time Uriah got home from work and declared that he still needed to take a shower before we could leave.  All of the power went out in Canal Park, where we wanted to have dinner.  We couldn't find a gift at the toy store down there, so we ended up having to trek up the hill to Target.  We thought about having dinner at a neighborhood place that had been recommended to Uriah, but upon being seated and looking at the menu, we both decided we wanted something different so we got up and left (something I have never done before, and honestly felt a little bit bad about doing, but there was nothing on the menu that appealed to me).  We headed back down to Canal Park to see if the power was back on.  It was hit or miss at most restaurants, the wait was long and everyone was crabby, so we headed back up the shore toward home and had dinner at Clearwater Grille.  At about 8:15.  It wasn't bad, but after sitting on the patio for 10 minutes, it started to sprinkle and the wind picked up, so we headed inside to finish our dinner.

I demanded a date-night redux, which we will need to accomplish before our baby-sitter leaves for college in the fall.  If we go on a quick date within 15 minutes of home, we usually leave Abby in charge of Finn.  However, we do hire a baby-sitter for Finn when we head into Duluth for our date, since that puts us a minimum of 30 minutes away from home, longer if we have to head up the hill.  If something were to happen, Abby is obviously not able to drive yet, so we tend to err on the side of caution and leave him with someone who could schlep him to the ER if necessary.  



Blast from the past:
My little one-year-old chubby lump, back when morning and afternoon naps were necessary. | August 2011

I had one of those days yesterday.  You know the kind that you sort of want to forget, but really all you can do is laugh because, after all, isn't this life?  And someday, won't I want to remember the day Finn went streaking 3 times?

I got my early morning workout in.  I met my lovely friend for a walk and chat before the heat of the day made exercise impossible.  I gardened and gardened and gardened, pulling overgrown plants that I'd wanted to remove for weeks now, tending all the little radish and cucumber and squash shoots, feeling relatively proud of my little peas that are starting to make their presence known.  Weeding and watering, weeding and watering.  My hands and legs and feet were a crusty, muddy mess, my back was sunburned and my hair had a tree's worth of sticks tangled up in it.  I may have gotten a little absorbed in my task.

Finn, however, felt that being naked was more his style yesterday.  I glanced up from digging a huge cluster of overgrown something out of the garden, only to see little pink buns race past me.  Luckily our back yard is pretty well shielded from the street, but I dropped my shovel quickly and chased down my little exhibitionist. I explained that we need to keep clothes on when we are outside, re-dressed him, and went back about my business.  I was huffing and puffing and trying to get my shovel all the way under the root cluster (because I do not want these things back!) and I looked up to find Finn - naked again - in the bird bath (it's actually an in-ground water fountain, but we call it a bird bath.  It's not very big, so really, he was only wet up to his knees from splashing, but he had his little naked buns sitting on a nice warm rock).  I plucked him from the water, reminded him again that we need to have clothes on when we're outside, and sent him on his way to make a construction site in the sandbox.

I went back to my digging and sweating and cursing the blasted root systems that are found in nature, when it occurred to me that I couldn't hear construction site "noises."  In fact, I didn't hear anything.  I walked around the side of the house - no Finn in the sandbox.  I walked all the way around the house.  No Finn anywhere.  I walked into the house, and the minute I opened the door, I heard a little voice say: "Just go back outside, Mama.  I'm making a snack."

And there he was, standing on his stool at the counter, half a loaf of bread spread out before him, pouring pancake syrup all over it.  Stark naked.

The appliance repair man came to fix the dishwasher - thankfully, Finn was fully clothed at the time and remained so for the duration of his visit.  The dishwasher started up immediately for him, I'm assuming just to screw with me.  I almost had a heart attack, partly because I couldn't believe it had started and partly because I was excited to bypass that bill.  Unfortunately, it stopped almost as quickly as it started, but after an hour of fiddling around and doing appliancey-things, it's now fixed and we are back to the convenience of a dishwasher.

Our baby-sitter showed up about the same time Uriah got home from work and declared that he still needed to take a shower before we could leave.  All of the power went out in Canal Park, where we wanted to have dinner.  We couldn't find a gift at the toy store down there, so we ended up having to trek up the hill to Target.  We thought about having dinner at a neighborhood place that had been recommended to Uriah, but upon being seated and looking at the menu, we both decided we wanted something different so we got up and left (something I have never done before, and honestly felt a little bit bad about doing, but there was nothing on the menu that appealed to me).  We headed back down to Canal Park to see if the power was back on.  It was hit or miss at most restaurants, the wait was long and everyone was crabby, so we headed back up the shore toward home and had dinner at Clearwater Grille.  At about 8:15.  It wasn't bad, but after sitting on the patio for 10 minutes, it started to sprinkle and the wind picked up, so we headed inside to finish our dinner.

I demanded a date-night redux, which we will need to accomplish before our baby-sitter leaves for college in the fall.  If we go on a quick date within 15 minutes of home, we usually leave Abby in charge of Finn.  However, we do hire a baby-sitter for Finn when we head into Duluth for our date, since that puts us a minimum of 30 minutes away from home, longer if we have to head up the hill.  If something were to happen, Abby is obviously not able to drive yet, so we tend to err on the side of caution and leave him with someone who could schlep him to the ER if necessary.  



Blast from the past:
My little one-year-old chubby lump, back when morning and afternoon naps were necessary. | August 2011

On my mind today: Gardens and rain and furniture.

It is rainy and foggy and a little bit chilly today.  Good for growing grass and flowers, I suppose.  I have already cleaned my kitchen (mostly, anyway.  I still have the floors to do.  I always run out of steam  by the floors and wish I could leave them for a merry house elf to finish.), I've started on the bathroom, stripped the beds and made a pot of chicken noodle soup.  Day, accomplished, I'd say.  But probably not since I still have to finish the bathroom and the kitchen floors and re-make the beds.

Finn has been napping all afternoon.  Literally since right after lunch - and we ate lunch before the noon bells rang because he was starving and losing his wee toddler mind.  Growth spurt, I suppose, but maybe Uriah and I wore him out yesterday with all of our furniture shopping.  We have been trying to find a set of bunk beds, either to split apart and put one in each of the kid's rooms or just leave together in Finn's room.  Furniture shopping is not our forte and we had to take a snack break half-way through.  I may have lost my own mind over the insane number of handicap parking spaces in downtown Duluth - as in: every single meter had a handicap sticker on it.  Turns out, what look like handicap signs are really just notices that handicap parking stickers have a certain amount of time to park at the meter - maybe free of charge? - and everyone else can park there, too?  I don't know, I'm guessing.  All I know is after about 3 circles of two different blocks, I finally made Uriah back up into an empty space, I shoved our quarters into one of the damned meters with the white handicap sticker and we walked another block to the furniture store.  We did not get a parking ticket and I apologized twenty times to Uriah for the harsh words I spoke out of hunger.  All that to say we did not purchase anything yesterday.  6 furniture stores and not one purchase.  But, at least we have an idea of what we might want.  I guess.  Or we just wasted an afternoon watching Finn climb the bunk bed ladders and pretend he was a fireman.

So, while Finn naps his Saturday away, I'm ignoring the kitchen floors that are screaming to be swept, and I'm playing with my garden pictures instead.  I inherited the most beautiful gardens with this house last summer and I'm just trying to keep them alive.  And trying to figure out what's planted in them.  Green is shooting up everywhere, along with some red leafy things and some purples and yellows, and the lilac and hydrangea bushes are budding, and the lily of the valley are going to be everywhere very soon.  I could look at those gardens all day long and constantly find something new bursting up through the soil...as long as I can keep the bunnies and the deer away, that is.

It is rainy and foggy and a little bit chilly today.  Good for growing grass and flowers, I suppose.  I have already cleaned my kitchen (mostly, anyway.  I still have the floors to do.  I always run out of steam  by the floors and wish I could leave them for a merry house elf to finish.), I've started on the bathroom, stripped the beds and made a pot of chicken noodle soup.  Day, accomplished, I'd say.  But probably not since I still have to finish the bathroom and the kitchen floors and re-make the beds.

Finn has been napping all afternoon.  Literally since right after lunch - and we ate lunch before the noon bells rang because he was starving and losing his wee toddler mind.  Growth spurt, I suppose, but maybe Uriah and I wore him out yesterday with all of our furniture shopping.  We have been trying to find a set of bunk beds, either to split apart and put one in each of the kid's rooms or just leave together in Finn's room.  Furniture shopping is not our forte and we had to take a snack break half-way through.  I may have lost my own mind over the insane number of handicap parking spaces in downtown Duluth - as in: every single meter had a handicap sticker on it.  Turns out, what look like handicap signs are really just notices that handicap parking stickers have a certain amount of time to park at the meter - maybe free of charge? - and everyone else can park there, too?  I don't know, I'm guessing.  All I know is after about 3 circles of two different blocks, I finally made Uriah back up into an empty space, I shoved our quarters into one of the damned meters with the white handicap sticker and we walked another block to the furniture store.  We did not get a parking ticket and I apologized twenty times to Uriah for the harsh words I spoke out of hunger.  All that to say we did not purchase anything yesterday.  6 furniture stores and not one purchase.  But, at least we have an idea of what we might want.  I guess.  Or we just wasted an afternoon watching Finn climb the bunk bed ladders and pretend he was a fireman.

So, while Finn naps his Saturday away, I'm ignoring the kitchen floors that are screaming to be swept, and I'm playing with my garden pictures instead.  I inherited the most beautiful gardens with this house last summer and I'm just trying to keep them alive.  And trying to figure out what's planted in them.  Green is shooting up everywhere, along with some red leafy things and some purples and yellows, and the lilac and hydrangea bushes are budding, and the lily of the valley are going to be everywhere very soon.  I could look at those gardens all day long and constantly find something new bursting up through the soil...as long as I can keep the bunnies and the deer away, that is.