Confession: I worry about a LOT of stuff besides the garden. Life, work, relationships, the world. Lately, I’ve been worrying myself to tears. But is it worth writing about?
A week ago I wrote about some mysterious squash volunteers I found sprouting in my hoop house. Well, now they’re bigger and growing like weeds. Also…they’re popping up all over the garden. Everywhere I spread compost. Now I think they’re probably seeds from an old zucchini or butternut I threw in the compost heap over the winter. Freaky.
I pulled out at least a dozen of them yesterday, but I’m letting a few survive to see what they are.
Also: Edamame sprouting!
I feel like a lazy butt, but apparently I did some things in the garden recently.
The tomato seedlings I started in February were getting to be real pain, demanding to go out in the sun and taken in at night going on three months now, getting sunburned and finicky every time I turned my back. Clearly it was time to make them a home. I cut down four black bamboo stalks (our fancy backyard variety, stronger than green ones) and bent them over to make a frame. I hauled some buckets of compost and used the power of chickens to spread it over the bed (and out of the sides, and into my shoes). They efficiently ate all the bugs and seeds they could find, as well as the tops of all my chard and onions. Chickens!
A while ago I posted about radmegan’s gorgeous natural egg dyes. I know our egg dying holiday in the US was a few weeks ago, but nature seems to be in a spring celebration mood here in Seattle with an explosion of flowers! Sunshine! Baby animals! So last Sunday I tried my hand at some egg dying of my own.
This is the first post in my Feral Adventures series about experiences that changed my life, made me reconsider how I thought about the world. I’ve wanted to share these stories for a long time because I hope others will be inspired by them to go out and explore, to have their own strange, uncomfortable, profound adventures.
If you visited suburban Long Island in the 90′s, driving out past the crowded boroughs to the leafy, quiet suburbs a solid, monotonous hour away from the city, you’d have found my family’s home. There, for reasons that were in no small part due to an anxious mother, I led a sheltered, safe, and isolated early life. Supervised. Secure. Wasn’t that a good thing? To be shielded from the risky, dirty, dangerous world? That sort of safety was, and is, pretty much a national obsession. And I think about it a lot.
In order to understand this story, I have to explain a few things. Specifically about growing up on an island, and this island in particular. In my early life there was no wilderness. No free-spirited weirdos. No farmer’s markets. No public art, street performance, junk shops or radical politics. We lived in New York City’s massive bagel-shaped cultural desert. Everything interesting within 50 miles was either sucked in or repelled (possibly to California). On top of that, my family was not particularly religious, or social, or adventurous, or traditional. Everything – holidays, weddings, weekends – was allowed to slump into the general American upper-middle-class stew of “meh”.
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Oh boy oh boy, looking up recycled pallet projects has led me to discoveries of some gorgeous, clever blogs. Here’s a few of my favorites.
Far Out Flora
Gorgeous colorful photos of the kind of crazy plants that grow so well in California, where Matti and Megan live and garden. I’m really inspired by their awesome succulent planter coffee table and succulent planter dining table. Also, adorable dog warning.
The Happy Heathen
Any blog with a name like that gets my thumbs-up. But Evita also has charming style, a mix of classical antique and handmade that she shows off when celebrating holidays like Samhain and Yule. She and her home have been featured on Apartment Therapy and Design*Sponge to boot!