Good Friday Gardening

All during Merry's week-long illness, I've been stealing outside with Beatrix on my hip. We search the soil for signs of new life.

Of course, there are the spring bulb's blossoms that welcome us on the way out of the door, and I'm not ungrateful for them, but it's the more subtle returning life--the tiny points of perrenials bravely poking their way through dead leaves and thawing soil--it's those that thrill me, that make me pull in my breath and live again myself after the endless winter.


And today, Good Friday, I spotted my first brave pea seedling. I'm always incredibly amazed when my seeds actually sprout and unfurl and become strong. These peas were the result of a community planting--my friend Arne and her little crawling boy, Lucas hoed and turned over the soil, as did Merry's friend Catherine--and then a second wave of pea-planting friends arrived, to plant a second round of vining sugarsnaps. We're no-till folks, but I turned over the soil, cheering the earthworms, and I gave them plenty of compost, as I imagine they want some good, juicy soil (and guru Eliot Coleman says his best peas resulted from an accidental double-dose of manure).

Life--it's stirring everywhere, under our feet, in the air, in the robin that settled down and watched us with his head cocked thoughtfully. Every winter, I forget what Green and Warm is. Or I enter a tunnel of child-sickness and busyness and I forget what To Be at Peace is. But that does not mean it is not there. I am thankful for seasons--waiting for spring through the endless grey of winter teaches me how to wait, and how to be in the silence of frozen earth and darkness. And then comes warmth, and light, and I remember again what they are, and I rejoice.
(Aunt Mary Jane stopped by and watched Martin work, Elspeth forage, and Bea climb walls.)

And finally, for a good Good Friday reflection, check out my dad's poverty blog. He says it well.

POOL GARDEN IN PROGRESS

Take one HORRIBLE above-ground pool, list it on freecycle,

Live with the trashy side-yard for a while (too long),

Add one laundry line and sand toys,
Subtract the fence one day with a hammer & handsaw and attitude while the kids sleep,

Add a baby,

(And sleep yourself,)

Throw in a pinch of landscape fabric (for what WILL BE brick paths) and a few workers,

Locate one wee brawny man who loves to hang out in the local graveyard collecting rocks (none inscribed--he leaves those where they are)

Ensure he is MAD-CRAZY FOR ROCKS, LIFTING ROCKS, ARRANGING ROCKS, BREAKING SUBARU AXLES WITH LOADS OF ROCKS, BUT RATHER CLEVER WITH ROCKS,

Plant a dozen or so fruit trees,


Begin what will be raised beds,

Give Mad-man rockerfella a chance to work. . .

And you get:

A WORK IN PROGRESS: the Petit Pottager, or what will be forever known to us as the Pool Garden. Watch for future developments.

Boogie on down for Lent by Kevin

Our friend Kevin Mathman M. made this missive for us to magnify our magnificent lenten dancing. . .as he saw it. Oh yeah, baby.

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!

Snow Today, Yes Tomorrow

Yesterday

Today

Yesterday

Today

C'mon, Spring!

ps. check out martin stonewall-cockroft's STELLAR stone wall (in progress) above

Happy Birthday, Bea!

I spent my thirty-second birthday celebrating Beatrix's first birthday. She and I packed up and went outside, where there was a cold wind blowing. And so we attempted to make a dent in our seeds by planting sweet peas and sugarsnap peas.

The kids gave us a birthday parade.

Elpseth gave me a sweet spring birthday bouquet.

Eventually, the cool wind and the excitement of pea planting proved too much for the littlest birthday girl.

And finally it snowed tonight.

On Beatrix's first birthday, she walks, plays in toilets,

watches movies with the big kids,

flirts,

crawls into tiny spaces and stands on alarming surfaces (ie., rocking chairs),

thinks she's big,

and continues to be the most charming, easy-going, delightful baby I have ever encountered.

Dressin Up for Spring

Some of us tend to overdress for gardening.

More than half of our peas are in, the beds are coming along, and the sweet pea seeds are soaking!

And OOOHHH that lovely compost and manure. Shite never looked so fabulous.

Weeds, More Weeds, and Mostly Weeds

I should be weeding. In fact, I've been waiting for a day just like this one to go out and tackle the weeding again.

Instead, I'm casting my attention to the list of sugarsnap peas at Johnny's Select online and realizing that most people, unlike me, actually planned ahead. I did find one seed still in stock, and it's organic, tasty, and stringless. So I put it into my shopping cart and I'll be back to buy it. . .later.

How lazy I feel this Friday afternoon! Granted, the week was packed and breathless. Martin, who almost never shows signs of stress, called me yesterday, emphasizing that he was "insane." NO KIDDING. Why do you think I like hangin with ya, buddy?

Oh, there are so many weeds out there. I can see them out of my window. Soon they will overtake all our plots, and it's only March.

The thing I love about Johnny's Select Seeds is that you can order as many seeds as you want, at a reasonable price. I could turn my entire yard into a corn field with a click of my mouse. Easy peasy! Well, not that easy, as Toad would tell you: then you have to sing to them, read poetry aloud, and coax them gently with candlelight if they are afraid of the dark. Those things I will do. But weeding?

Sigh.

________
Sophisticated fun at Wazoo Farm:
Windshield sliding:

Chatting with Earthworms

Was raking weeds from the sugarsnap pea bed when I looked over at Beatrix, who mucks around, eating dirt and what-not, and spotted the LARGEST spider I've ever seen (out of the tropics) poised on her chest. I quickly cultivated it off of her chest with the rake, all the time saying in a strained voice: "Oh! It's okay, it's okay!" And then I stripped her down to check for spider bites. Nothing there. It occurred to me later that, contrary to my reaction of horror, the spider could have been a friendly sort of presence, maybe a blessing animal, albeit one that I do not like to see on my baby.

We've started explaining to the earthworms as we till the soil, "We are turning the soil to feed our family. Thank you for your help, and we apologize in advance if we harm you with our shovel. In turn, we will feed you and your family."

I think they understand. Or at least I hope they do, since I have inadvertently sliced a few in half in an effort to dig a big enough hole for our fruit trees. My comfort is that they are AMAZING WEIRD ANIMALS and chopping them in half does not send them to the next world. The girls love them, too, and fight with the fat robins about who gets to pull them from the upturned earth. They are under strict instructions to BE GENTLE, since our earthworms are some of our dearest gardening friends.

_____
They must understand more or equally as much as the children, ONE in particular who seems to have her ears full of PEEPS.

Overheard tonight at the Cockroft house, where Elspeth had performed yet another flip by the baby on the trampoline:

"Elspeth! When will you start LISTENING?"

Elspeth, head down in the carpet from her time-out position. "Um, Saturday."

I can hardly wait for SATURDAY!
_____
These pictures are for my mother, to whom we send many kisses and the message: YOU SURE MARRIED A HANDSOME FELLA!


Dr. Long never looked so good.

We could send you Beatrix to help you unload your dishwasher. . .

Or perhaps you'd rather have Elspea, who has shown a flair for cutting (her own) hair. . .I'm sure she'd love to take a gander at yours. . .which reminds me of the best quote overheard at the Cockroft house lately: DON'T GET YOUR GANDER UP!

This ties with Elspeth's version of a wounded butterfly: a butterflap.

Spring in the Desert

Somehow spring in the desert seems even more amazing than spring in Pennsylvania. So I thought this morning when I looked at my sister's blog (from the Hopi Reservation in Arizona) and her gorgeous, hard-won-from-the-scrabble flowers.

I especially love the greening tumbleweed.

And. . .Saturdays are good days for puttering, so I puttered over to my good used-to-be-neighbor-in-Kenya-now-lives-in-DC's photostream and was amazed, as usual, by her incredible, creative artistry. Such precision I can only dream of.

Craziness, ETC.

A good rain last night, and everything feels better in the morning. I imagine the trees are supremely happy, as are the children, who (except for B, who is supposed to be napping but is rattling her crib joints) are outside under a tent Merry constructed out of blue tarp and chairs.

I realized anew that a little creativity on my part goes a long way, so instead of continuing to layer threats on Elspeth, who had come in AGAIN asking to watch a video (which is not scheduled until 11:30), I packed her a picnic to eat on their camp-out. I mean, what is wrong with me? Have I lost all my joie de vivre? Why couldn't I think of doing something nice for a change instead of mounting to frustrated-parent hysteria: "I TOLD you to blah, blah, blah." At one point Elspeth retreated to the sun room and I suddenly had a revelation: Hello! I am not very fun to be around at the moment!

No award to me for Ms. Congeniality lately. Perhaps, in my defense, I could list all the delights that have sent my blood pressure soaring: Elspeth going missing (turns out she was just smearing her face with my mascara and lipstick);

Elspeth smearing defecation on the floor and not telling me until it was crusty;


Beatrix climbing on every possible table and chair and open dishwasher (including perching on the TV table, holding onto the edge of the TV);

Elspeth emptying clothes from hampers and freshly folded baskets;

me losing my keys and credit card, etc., which blew off our roof on a busy road;

me running down the car battery to dead so now I have no car for a couple days;

Merry making sure her life is fair;

Elspeth spilling grape juice all over a friend's white carpet and then the next night dumping huge quantities of fish food in another friend's aquarium AND dumping salt on the chocolate cake;




and many other small things that go uncounted, like Elspeth drawing on our blue Subaru with a rock, Elspeth pushing the baby; Merry insisting her life-sized baby doll sit at the breakfast table to the squishing of her mother; Beatrix with a cold teething; children calling me at every turn; Merry tattling on her sister; Elspeth disobeying generally and suffering gut-wrenching time-outs where she screams;

let me end with a great, big ETC.

You know, just dumping all this on all of you out there in space makes me feel better, or more desperate, or at least gives me the strength to leave the computer NOW. . .and retrieve sad baby.