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Spring Fever
Mar. 28th, 2021 01:50 pmI think it is a truth universally acknowledged that spring weather turns a midwestern woman's (of middle aged years) thoughts to gardening. Especially if one is working from home, so has both more time and energy to devote to it and spends one's working time staring out the window at the back yard. Lawnchair is also a bad influence.
In late winter, he started bringing up the desire to plant some cherries and gooseberries. Maybe it was that he finally made the last bags gooseberries from his parents' bush into jelly (they've been in the bottom of the deep freeze for ten years). I mentioned that if he was planting vicious thorny bushes, I wanted to try raspberries again (I would like to stop depending on random farmer's markets and make my own jalapeno and raspberry jam). So he made an order to the plant source of my childhood (Gurney's, even though they've been bought out).
And then he started making noises about another raised bed. We'd agreed last spring that we would make one that year, and then slowly add another bed each year. In theory, to limit overwhelming ourselves with optimistic beds like the first years after we bought the house. And then he took Friday off work (he's at use or lose status with annual leave again), brought home 24 more cinderblocks, and 700 lb of good soil (we're on the crest of the hills and are cursed with barely weathered shale). And now we have two new beds, one for strawberries and one for salad plants. Strawberries are expected any day now.
I'm hoping that I haven't signed up for another summer of feeling guilty I'm not weeding, or a fall of feeling guilty I'm not canning.
In other news, after finding out that I can get to the trails near the lake without driving onto the state park, I hiked about four miles yesterday on my own. I'm signed up for hikes the next two Saturdays. I got my first covid shot on Wednesday and my replace birth control implant on Thursday. Happily, neither arm hurts.
I'm still working on knitting my grey/purple cardigan, and spinning for my blue scrappy sweater.
In late winter, he started bringing up the desire to plant some cherries and gooseberries. Maybe it was that he finally made the last bags gooseberries from his parents' bush into jelly (they've been in the bottom of the deep freeze for ten years). I mentioned that if he was planting vicious thorny bushes, I wanted to try raspberries again (I would like to stop depending on random farmer's markets and make my own jalapeno and raspberry jam). So he made an order to the plant source of my childhood (Gurney's, even though they've been bought out).
And then he started making noises about another raised bed. We'd agreed last spring that we would make one that year, and then slowly add another bed each year. In theory, to limit overwhelming ourselves with optimistic beds like the first years after we bought the house. And then he took Friday off work (he's at use or lose status with annual leave again), brought home 24 more cinderblocks, and 700 lb of good soil (we're on the crest of the hills and are cursed with barely weathered shale). And now we have two new beds, one for strawberries and one for salad plants. Strawberries are expected any day now.
I'm hoping that I haven't signed up for another summer of feeling guilty I'm not weeding, or a fall of feeling guilty I'm not canning.
In other news, after finding out that I can get to the trails near the lake without driving onto the state park, I hiked about four miles yesterday on my own. I'm signed up for hikes the next two Saturdays. I got my first covid shot on Wednesday and my replace birth control implant on Thursday. Happily, neither arm hurts.
I'm still working on knitting my grey/purple cardigan, and spinning for my blue scrappy sweater.
