Adventures in Gardening

My garden so far this year has left me scratching my head.

First, there were the strange squash, one of which you can see on the left there alongside the zucchini in the photo above. I still don't know what they are. I ate one and it had little taste and was rather mealy. I probably won't eat another but I don't know what to do with them.

The next puzzle was the green beans. Last year I accidentally planted pole beans. Pole beans are fine (a) if you like pole beans, which I don't, and (b) you are prepared to grow pole beans. Pole beans have green bean vines that grow like kudzu in that they will take over and wrap themselves around anything near them if you don't have fence or a pole or something to train them along.

So when I purchased seeds I bought bush beans. I also switched brands, having had trouble with seeds last year that did not produce veggies.

My bush beans turned out to be pole beans. Many pole beans. Pole beans that wanted to reach the fence when they were planted in the middle of my little plot. Pole beans that crept into the tomatoes and into the zucchini and then tripped you up when you tried to to walk through the little garden. Pole beans that started bringing down the plastic netting that we used for fence. Pole beans from hell.

This morning, in a fit of pique, I ripped every green bean plant from the garden and tossed them away. What few bush beans were growing were so few in number as to be useless and the pole beans, if that is what they were, were doing nothing but growing vine. It took me an hour but I felt vindicated when they were all hauled to the compost pile.

See hole the pole beans were taking over the tomatoes?

What I am left with now are zucchini, strange squash, and tomatoes. The zucchini are doing well. The tomatoes are starting to ripen.

The zucchini are doing great!

However, one tomato plant has a visitor. Mockingbirds set up housekeeping in the farthest plant from the house.

The nest has at least five blue speckled eggs in it.

So this morning when I resolutely stomped out to rip out bean vines, I found myself being chirped at. And not only by mockingbirds. Not far from the garden a baby finch had either fallen from the nest or was failing its first flying lesson. Its parents were having a fit. When I looked later, though, I could not find the bird and the parents were gone. I hope it flew away.

Meanwhile, the mockingbird watched me from the nearby spruce tree, fluttering occasionally in consternation. I wasn't paying any attention and did not know until I had ripped out the pole beans that there was a nest in the tomato plant. This is because the pole beans were hiding that particular plant.

When I saw there was a nest I went inside and fetched my camera. When I came out I saw the mockingbird fly away.

As I moved toward the nest, momma bird grew a little noisy. When I tried to peer in to get a shot of the eggs, I heard a rustling of wings and the next thing I knew I was ducking, for she was headed straight for my head.

Needless to say, I quickly snapped a picture and moved away. I did not plan to hurt the little eggs; I only wanted to see. But of course momma bird did not know that.

Gardening this year is quite an adventure!

Thursday Thirteen

This is my 1,250th post in this blog! Wow.

I have been thinking a lot this week about creativity. I believe being creative is as much a part of being human as eating and breathing. However, it is a part that has been tamped down and stomped on by capitalism, which sees creativity only as a commodity to be bought and sold. Creativity comes about in many forms and people can be quite, um, creative, in their search for self-expression through various outlets.

So today I give you 13 ways one might be creative.

1. Writing. Computers have taken some of the fun out of writing and I highly recommend going back to pencil and paper occasionally. There is a connection between hand, pen and paper that one does not attain using the computer keyboard. It's like certain sections of the brain turn off and on.

2. Drawing. When people think of art, this is usually what they think about. Pictures on canvas. But doodling counts, scribbling counts, even making weird drawings on the computer counts, though there again I recommend paint and canvas or paper or whatever medium one prefers.

3. Decorating. Finding new ways to use old items, or splashing a coat of paint on a wall to make something look different or new, is a way to be creative. Even hunting through the pile of throw pillows in JC Pennys is an arm of this creativity, because you'll know when you see what you need.

4. Gardening. Growing something is a special sort of creativity, I think. It is almost like being The Creator in that you are taking what looks like nearly nothing and with a little love and sustenance watching something grow. And then there are gardening and landscape designs, ways of beautifying the lawn, etc., etc.

5. Tinkering. My husband looked at me in surprise recently when I said his father, who tinkers with every piece of machinery and metal on the farm, is suffering from stifled creativity. But what else would you say about someone who sits around and thinks up unique and different ways to accomplish a job? That's darned creative if you ask me.

6. In the office. I think an office that allows  for creative ways to solve problems is a much better place to work than one that does not. I once saw a chiropractor who went through receptionists about every three months, and the reason was she was a control freak who micromanaged everything the employee did, right down to the time it had to be done.

7. Time management. Creative time management means more than just multi-tasking. It is a method of living and juggling balls that takes a creative mind to make it happen. It is a form of organizing that is special in its own right, and since it frequently eludes me it is not one I can really explain. I just know it exists.

8. Exploring. Walking through the parks, woods or fields opens up a new world of wonders. There are insects, rocks and leaves to explore. Things to see. Air to breathe and smell. Clouds to view, horizons to gaze out upon.

9. Reuse. When I was about 9 years old, I took dishwashing detergent bottles and paper bags and made little lamps out of them. I then went about decorating an entire little house for myself out of such materials. But you don't have to be a child to find a creative use for an unwanted or no-longer necessary item. Even reusing a grocery bag as a trash bag in the small garbage bin in the bathroom has a spark of creativity about it.

10. Cooking. Cooking is a great outlet for frustrated creative people. Creating a great meal is like painting a masterpiece or writing a wonderful short story. It's out there for all to enjoy. You can do this every day simply by thinking about a recipe and making a few changes. I am pretty sure I have never made meatloaf the same way twice.

11. Brainstorming ideas. Talking things over is a great way to be creative. It involves many skills - listening, self-expression, communicating, etc. Have you ever watched an animated conversation of ideas? You can almost see the creativity jumping from one brain to the next. It is contagious and very exciting.

12. Self-exploration. Taking classes that teach you how to think differently, or reading books that open eyes and minds, journaling, even blogging, are all ways to explore the inner world and open it up so that stuff tumbles out. Sometimes that might be bad stuff but it can also be very good ideas, thoughts, desires, hopes and dreams.

13. Dreaming and day dreaming. Day dreaming is another passive activity that sparks creativity in movement sometimes. I highly recommend staring out the window and allowing thoughts to roam around. Sometimes I have an entire soap opera running around in my head; sometimes it is simply a visualization of something calming and soothing to ease a tired mind. But of all creative outlets, I value this one as much as anything, because while they can take away your oven or your little plot of land, so far they cannot yet invade your mind.


Thursday Thirteen is played by many bloggers. You can see who all participates here. This is the 148th week I have played!

Glebe Hill Gardens

Not far from me lies the Glebe Hill Gardens, a splendid exhibit of day lilies and hostas.

Even though it is only a few miles away, I had never been to the gardens. Last week I ventured there with a friend to see what was to be seen.

The gardens offer 1,500 varieties of day lilies, 800 varieties of hostas, 50 varieties of ornamental grasses, 100 different conifers and has two water gardens.

The place is only open for about a month in the summer.

We actually were not there at the height of bloom; that apparently had occurred a week earlier. Nevertheless, it was an impressive display of color and a fine example of very hard work.

I liked the hostas as they looked cool and refined beneath the shade trees. The day we were there it was about 99 degrees, so I also really liked the shade.



I loved this garden walkway. It reminded me of The Secret Garden.



There were an enormous number of day lilies. A riot of color, really.



This is not a day lily. This is the plant that I can't spell that is used in healing; it has antibiotic properties. It starts with an E.



The day lilies all have great names, like Fire King. I did not write down any of them, unfortunately, but I think flower growers must have a bit of poet in them.



This one had a flaming color that reached out and took command!


My friend Meg and garden owner Gary Osborne spent some time looking for just the right day lily for her to purchase. Mr. Osborne later told me he is friends of my husband's family, having coached school with James' uncle at some time and they remained friends.



This was my favorite spot; it looks like an enchanted place. I would never get anything done if I spent time in this garden - I would be mooning about, looking for fairies!

Fantasy Book Reviews

Wildwood Dancing
By Juliet Marillier
Copyright 2007
407 pages
Alfred A. Knopf, Publisher

Cybele's Secret
By Juliet Marillier
Copyright 2008
432 pages
Alfred A. Knopf, Publisher

These books are deemed "young adult" fantasies by the marketers, but to be sure I couldn't tell you why these books by Juliet Marillier and others that I have read by the same author are in different categories.

No matter. A good story is a good story. Marillier excels at taking fairy tales and myths and changing them so that they are barely recognizable. However, their familiarity lends to the telling and to the reader's enjoyment of the story simply because it tickles at those fundamentals of life that create a good tale.

In Wildwood Dancing, the reader meets five sisters who have a portal into the Other Kingdom. On the nights of the full moon, they go dancing with outlandish and foreign creatures, few who are human. Jena is the second-oldest sister and she tells the story in first person. She is a thoughtful scholar who claims to be no great beauty. It is she who insists of keeping tabs on the sisters for fear they will get lost in this other world and never return. A series of adventures and missteps almost proves her a poignant prognosticator.

Cybele's Secret takes place a few years later, with sister Paula taking up the tale. Like Jena, she is also very scholarly. She travels with her father, a merchant, on a buying trip to Turkey. There she finds a way into the Other Kingdom, only to find that the other world is not quite the same across the ocean.

Both books have themes of love and sacrifice, family duty, and adventure. They are both quest books, which I greatly enjoy, and so I found the reading of these to go quite smoothly.

Fantasy readers, particularly those who like a tale that makes them think, should find Marillier's books to be quite a treat. I have read her works Sevenwaters books and always find her to be compelling.

Not a Yellow Squash

I do not know what this is, but it is not a yellow squash.

It is supposed to be a yellow squash. That is what I planted. But this is what has grown. It is some kind of squash... but what?

I do not have a single yellow squash growing, but I do have these things. Any ideas as to what this is?

Homeplace

I am something of an amateur historian and Botetourt County's history in particular has a great hold on me. My ancestry here goes way back, as does my husband's, and we intersect with a set of many-great grandparents back in the early 1800s. That makes us cousins but at a very great distance.

Recently I've had contact on Facebook from several folks who are Firebaughs who are interested in my husband's family history. Fortunately I have done a little research on that from time to time, which is a good thing since no one else in his immediate family seems to have an interest.

Last week one of these long-lost cousins came by for a few hours and we went off to see the ancestors.

This monument is in the Firebaugh family cemetery, which is on private property not far from where we live. It is not family-owned property anymore. I think this belongs to William Firebaugh, whose descendants populate this area.

More Firebaugh Cemetery shots. Many of these folks were buried before 1860. This is a great graveyard, complete with a big ol' tree that has uprooted some of the stones.




This is Jeanne Douglass, whose parents were Firebaughs. She is a cousin to my husband, going back to that William Firebaugh fellow who had a great many kids. The tombstone she is standing by is for her grandparents. She had not visited the grave since she was a child. This is at Haymaker Cemetery.




I had actually never been to Haymaker Cemetery myself, so I found it an interesting place to tour.



As you can see, the cemetery is next to a field.



This is the Firebaugh home place, called Stonelea. It is no longer in the family, either. Legend has it that Philip Firebaugh in 1818 rode into town with saddlebags full of gold and plopped down the money for this home and accompany acreage. The stones with which the house was built were mined on the property and the quarry is still visible if you know where to look.



This barn harkens back to the days of the ol' ancestors, too - this is pre-Civil War (1861-1865, for those who aren't history fans). I have been in this barn and it has hand-hewn logs in it; you can still see the axe marks. They built stuff to last in those days.

Thursday Thirteen

Today I offer up a list of things for which I am thankful.

1. My husband, who is a fine man and the love of my life!

2. My family, even the ones I don't talk to, because without them I would not be the person I am.


3. My friends, because they are the family I have created and people who love me for me.

4. Writing, or the ability to write, which seems to be something I can't stop doing.

5. My spirit, which keeps me moving and trying.

6. The rural, mountainous area we live in.

7. Books and the ability to read them!

8. My computer and the Internet, which links me to the world.

9. My community, which generally accepts me, quirks and all, and waves at me when they see me in the grocery store.

10. My parts, like fingers and limbs and eyes and ears, which may not work as well as they once did but are still functional. How easy it is to take them for granted!

11. Good food, which makes the belly sing and the heart dance (even as it clogs up the arteries!).


12. My house, which keeps me safe, warm, snug and secure. It's a wonderful place, full of love.

13. Water, which cools me down on a hot day, fills me up when I shouldn't be eating, and makes my blood flower better. Without it there is no life, so it's kind of a big one.


Thursday 13 is played by many people, and you can read what others write on Thursdays here. This is the 147th time I have played. I hope you enjoyed it.

Li'l Bambis

We have three fawns that are staying around our house this year. I know there are three because I have seen them all together, but I have not been able to shoot a picture of them in the same shot.

The other day one of them walked right up to my office window. I held my breath until it turned around and I could grab a camera without scaring it.

We have fenced out my flower beds with plastic netting fence. We left a single unfenced entrance by the deck.

About three weeks ago I went outside to look at a couple of does that were in the backyard. A fawn had gotten inside the fence and was resting in my flower bed! I startled it and it jumped up into the netting. I yelled for my husband, who ushered me inside to give the little thing time to calm down. When we ventured back out it had vanished. I did not have a camera to get a picture, alas.

They will be grown and big deer by this time next year.

Zucchini Bread

"Hey good lookin' whatcha cookin'?" said my husband as he came in from work the other day.

I stood holding the egg beater at the ready, a big bowl of something on the counter and flour on my hands.

"Zucchini bread," I told him. "I harvested our first batch of zukes today."

"Yum, I love me some zucchini bread!" he exclaimed.

And it was very good. He ate an entire loaf almost immediately; in fact, he didn't even let me allow it to cool off!

It's fairly easy to make, too. I like the way it turns brown inside and have often considered making it without the zucchini just to see what it does.

I do not consider myself a great cook but I will share this recipe. I am not sure where it came from as it is handwritten.

Zucchini Bread

Ingredients
2/3 cup Crisco butter-flavored shortening
2 2/3 cup sugar
4 eggs
3 cups fresh zucchini, chopped very fine
2/3 cup water
3 1/3 cups of White Lily self-rising flour
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground cloves
1 cup raisins

(You can put nuts in it too if you want but I never do.)

Heat oven to 350. Grease two large loaf pans or three smaller ones.
Mix shortening and sugar in large bowl. Add eggs, zucchini and water.
Blend in flour, cinnamon and cloves. Stir in raisins. Pour into pans.
Bake 60 - 65 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool slightly; remove from pans. Cool completely before slicing.
Store no longer than 10 days.

Cousins

My extended family is rather large; I can trace my family tree back to the late 1700s in Botetourt County and so I have lots of 4th cousins once removed and folks I barely know who I can call "cousin" if I so desire and be accurate. In fact, my husband and I are fifth cousins, meaning we share a set of grandparents about six generations back. Which makes me related to my father-in-law and all of his family as well; they are fourth cousins I think. They could be fourth cousins once removed. I get that mixed up once you get that far back on the family tree.

Anyway, my mother had four brothers and one sister, and they all had children, so my first cousins are bountiful as well. And they have now had children (my first cousins once removed; second cousins means you share great-grandparents, not grandparents, it gets confusing).

Recently a bunch of these  immediate cousins gathered to celebrate the graduation of one of the children.

My first cousin by marriage, Gina who is married to my cousin Matthew, and her daughter Madison, who is my first cousin once-removed. Madison is my aunt's granddaughter; Matthew is her son.

Kayleigh, on the left, is my first cousin LeighAnn's daughter, so Kayleigh is my first cousin once removed.  She is with Madison. LeighAnn is my uncle's daughter.

Ashleigh, who was graduating from home school to college, was the reason for the celebration. Ashleigh is my cousin Michelle's daughter, so Ashleigh is also my first cousin once removed.


Kelsey, on the left, is Michelle's daughter, so she is my first cousin once removed. Michelle, on the right, is my uncle's daughter, so she is my first cousin.

Supposedly I and all of these cousins are related to two separate presidents but I have never proved that so I don't make that claim and wouldn't make the claim for one of the supposed presidents anyway even if it were true. I am eligible for Daughters of the American Revolution and Daughters of the Confederacy inclusion but have never bothered to fill out the paperwork. I have set that aside as something to do when I am old(er).

I am lucky to have such an extended family. I know not many people know their first cousins, much less their fourth, fifth and sixth ones.

Thursday Thirteen

I am one of those people who often ask the odd questions; my mother called me a "why" child, because once I learned the word I never stopped wondering. Here are few odd things that have crossed my mind lately:

1. If a mouse is on a train, does he experience any sensation of traveling while he's roaming around down at my feet? Could he get motion sickness?

2. Do animals favor a paw? As in, are they left-hooved or left-pawed? Does mother deer tell Bambi, "Now, son, step out with your right hoof, not your left."?

 (Mother deer with suckling fawn!)

3. If I only read a book half way, or maybe just don't read the last page, does that mean that for me the story never ends?

4. If a tree falls in the forest does it make a sound - I say yes, even if a human isn't around. Because the noise exists whether I hear it or not. But I cannot prove this.

5. How does Teflon stick to my new loaf bread pans?

6. Why do they call it a #2 pencil?

7. How come I can never see the light turn into darkness when I am sitting outside watching the sunset?

8. Why do fireflies remind me of fairies every time I see them?

9. Why does well water keep my vegetable plants alive, but rain makes them thrive?

10. Why must I always question everything? Why? Why? Why?

11. If I have already fulfilled my purpose in life, how would I know it?

12. If I am wasting time, who's definition matters? If I enjoy reading a book, or playing a video game, or surfing the Internet, why is that wasting time? Shouldn't I get to define it?

13. Where is the soul, what is it, how does one see it, feel it, know it is there?

There you go. I have a busy, zany mind; welcome to a small piece of my world.

Thursday Thirteen is played by many people and you can meet more TT players here. This is my 146th time to play and if you don't believe me you can look here and read them all.

New Fire Station

On Monday, Roanoke City dedicated its new fire station, Roanoke Fire-EMS Station #5.

This will be my husband's new location because the battalion chiefs will be working from this station now.

The station consolidates two structures, old station #5 and station #9. Station #9 is officially retired, and both old buildings will be sold. My husband was captain at Station 9 for almost 10 years before he received his promotion.

The closing essentially eliminated 12 jobs, although the local media has not reported that recently. It was publicized when the decision to close the stations was made several years ago but apparently that has been forgotten.

You can see media coverage of this here: WSLS, WSLS (stations closing), Roanoke Times. Station 9's old blog is here and you can see in the header what the old station looked like. I don't know if new Station 5 will have a blog. Apparently that depends on the firefighters and who has an interest in keeping it up.

Anyway, on with the tour:




The new structure cost about $4.5 million.



They also introduced a new ladder truck to the public. It is a Quint, which means it carries water and has a ladder. It cost $843,000.



Firefighters J. D. and Dennis, both of whom have worked with my husband for many years. Dennis is going to be a daddy in the next month or so. He was very kind to me while my husband performed his duties and saw to it that I had water and found the rooms with air conditioning. He also gave me a tour of the building.



The new battalion chief's office.



The turnout gear locker. If you have never been in a fire station when the bells ring and the fellows all run for their gear, it is an amazing sight. It's like a ballet on speed.



Dennis and my husband, who was all decked out in his dress uniform.



The pole for a fast exit from the second floor. I understand this pole came from old station #3 and is about 100 years old.



The crowd was large for such an event: about 250 people. Many were dignitaries but others were retired fireman and local citizens who wanted to take pride in this new structure.



Captain Kevin and Fire Investigator Ronnie.



Captain Kevin and his crew created this very large table - it's about 18 feet long - to serve as the eating place for the firemen. The table has inlays of pictures of the closed fire stations as well as a tribute to tomorrow's firefighters in the middle.




Dignitaries made long speeches. Mayor David Bowers had a hard time keeping a straight face at one point. Tears fell during a presentation to Battalion Chief Bobby Slayton, who has been with the Fire Department for over 44 years. He retires this month. Unfortunately the heat was miserable; the event was mid-day and the bays of the fire station, where everyone gathered, are not air conditioned.



And there's me and my sweetie.

Too Hot to Handle

Our weather has been very un-June-like and instead has been more August-like.

The temperatures have been in the high 90s for a week now.

How hot is it?

It is so hot that when I go outside after taking a shower, my hair dries instantly.

It is so hot that ducks are flying upside down so their friends will get a breeze from their flapping wings.

It is so hot that eggs cook on the sidewalk.

It is so hot that the trees have started walking toward the pond.

Well, you get the idea.

It is hot. Can't do nothing about it and I am thankful we have air conditioning.

That picture, by the way, was taken yesterday afternoon. The thermometer was in the shade. The gauge on the other side of the house, which was in the sun, looked like this:

Books: Split Second

Split Second
By David Baldacci
Read by Ron McLarty
Abridged 6 hours
Copyright 2003

These fast-paced spy/mystery books are what David Baldacci is known for, but as I hadn't read or listened to one I thought I'd pick one up.

This went very quickly. The plot was very exciting but the character development was minimal. I don't know, though, if that is because of the abridgment so I will withhold judgment on that.

Much of the book was set in Virginia, and I always like to read things set in the state. It makes them feel close to home, sort of.

Michelle Maxwell is a Secret Service agent charged with protecting a presidential candidate. During a stop at a funeral from a friend, the candidate is kidnapped. Michelle's career is effectively ended.

Eight years earlier, Sean King had been watching a presidential candidate when his charge was gunned down. King lost his career, too.

The two join forces when the two seemingly unconnected events start to look connected. They sift through old evidence, lies, and cover-ups to discover the truth.

The book ends with the two joining forces to create a private investigator's agency, so even though I haven't looked I am sure there are other books out there featuring these two characters.

Not bad entertainment while driving in the car, that's for sure.

Summer Solstice Musing

Mid-Summer's Eve. The evening is warm with scarcely a breeze, so warm that a naked dance with the fireflies is not out of reach.

As the sun settles behind the mountains, a cardinal gives the all clear cheer while a dove in the brush by the fence coos goodnight.

It is twilight. Evening tide. Time for gentle souls to fall under the spell of the pixies and fairies who will rise and dance beneath the half-moon. Magic and softness and a promise of newness lies on the air, in the thin, nearly imperceptible twist of the oak leaves as the breathing of nature stirs the air.

Softly now, move softly among the roses and hear the echoes of those who went before. They call to you, those elders, their voices audible only to those who have will to listen. Do you hear them?

It is a time to dream, is it not, on this longest evening of the year? For soon the winter's howl will be close and the fires of man will smell in the air. It is never long away, those times. They come around as surely as the sunrises and sets each day.

Listen now as the owl calls and watch the night fall upon you. The stars twinkle, each light a small beacon crying out to sorrowful souls. The fireflies dance. Go dance, and be free.

**Written on the Summer Solstice**

Heavy Burdens

My phone rang and rang tonight, up until 10 p.m.

And always it was bad news.

First the bad news was about my husband's family. Two of his aunts are in the hospital. One I have written about before. Aunt Jenny had surgery for pancreatic cancer in early November. She is not doing so well. I love Aunt Jenny; she was a substitute teacher when I was in elementary school and I remember her coming in and teaching. When I married her nephew, she welcomed me with open arms.

Aunt Frannie lives in Salem and I do not know her as well, having not spent much time with her. She is in the hospital with a problem with her leg. I do not know the particulars on that but it does not sound very good.

The sisters are not in the same hospital. Their other sister, Aunt Nancy, is in North Carolina recovering from knee surgery. And their brother, my father-in-law, is on oxygen, though he continues to work far too hard for a man of his age. They all worry me.

And then my brother called tonight to tell me, among other things, that my grandmother who lives in California is in the hospital. They are unsure what is wrong. It is hard to know when you are this far away.

My grandmother turned 90 in March.  I wrote about that in this post. I called her last on June 11, which was my grandfather's birthday, and we had a long chat. My grandfather passed away in 1989.

I have never spent much time with my grandmother, for California is a very long way away. For a long time I did not have the money to fly out, and have never had the time to drive out. Living on a farm generally means you don't take long trips like that, because someone must feed the cows. Then as we've aged, someone has had to be here to help out the older folks. Now I have a problem with my ear that keeps me grounded. I cannot fly unless I am sedated. I don't think I will ever get to California.

On top of that, my heart has been sagging for months now, with personal sorrows and troubles that I won't share but which have plagued me for some time. I try very hard to be happy in my writing in this blog but sometimes it is impossible not to feel totally overwhelmed by life, even though I know I really have nothing to complain about.

But tonight I feel as heavy as a dew that has stained delicate silks strewn about the grass. When the sun rises I know I will feel a little lighter, but right now, with darkness knocking at my windows it is very hard to recall.