Measurements

How tall am I mommy? my child of long ago days inquired as I penciled her growth on the chart in the kitchen doorframe. She wanted to know if she was getting big, a sign of importance. She couldn’t measure my love, though she knew it was overflowing, but she could measure her bigness. Other things we gauged were how fast she could run or how long she could hold her breath. These days we measure popularity of leaders, lines at the unemployment office, distances between us as we socialize, and sadly, number of pages in the city obituaries. We like to measure and count and analyze…it helps us confirm our bigness, our significance, and the seriousness of the matters at hand. Though measurements can help, they do not tell the whole story. An April snowstorm dumped a handful of inches on us two nights ago. Weather stations were certainly taking measurements of the heavy flakes to enter into their databases for April averages to come. What was certainly not measured were the number of scarves used to dress perfect snowmen and the giggles and snowball fights that followed; or the footprints in the snow of morning hikers taking in the unusual spring beauty of peeking daffodils weighted down under a white blanket aside the grape hyacinths standing tall and proud, unwavering. Some very important things, big things, are never measured. In these strange days, those things are still there.

RECIPE: measuring for mulch.

Mulching is helpful to hold in moisture, keep back weeds, and vainly speaking…to make it look tidy and pretty. Two inches is a nice layer. Perennials a little less, trees and shrubs perhaps a little more. Color is your preference, no color is better than another; the barkier the better…woodier attracts bugs. That’s the simple answer. Mulch is sold in bags at your local hardware store for small areas; bulk from your local garden center. When ordering bulk, it is measured in cubic yards 3ft x 3ft x 3ft. Layed out in a bed it is 100 square feet, 3 inches deep (generally); 108 sq ft to be exact.

So if you wanted to spread mulch 1 inch deep, 1 yd will cover 300 square feet. (100 sq ft x 3/1)

At 2 inches 1 yd will cover 150 square feet. (100 sq ft x 3/2)

Measure all your beds and divide your total square feet by the square feet covered by your desired depth. For example, if you have 750 square feet and you want to spread mulch 2 inches deep then divide 750/150 = 5 yards.

The same formula applies for bulk deliveries of compost and loam, which you may also be contemplating as you prepare your spring gardens.

Have fun getting dirty!

Blue. Azul. I'm feeling it.

Blue is the color of my eyes when they sparkle, the color of the sky and the water I love so much, the color of denim that I reach for daily in my wardrobe. My favorite. But as a feeling, not so much, and I’m feeling it today. I reach for the blue crayola and color the whale and the bird and the umbrella in my Spanish workbook. I realize there is alot going on in this mindless activity of coloring. Many skills are exercised, like recognition, sorting, following directions, developing fine motor skills, using imagination, to name the first that come to mind. I suppose the same could be said for the blues…there is most likely alot going on.

First of all, it’s raining. That raw, cold, soaking rain that seeps in deep, that breaks through the layer that was frozen not so many days ago. The awakening drink to the thirsty underground. Lifegiving. Somehow, the grayness, takes the sparkle and life away from me, like a knock on the door from an unwelcome visitor, that if I invite inside will stay too long, will seep into the depths of my humanity, which causes me to chase it away like my grandmother did, running after the taxcollector down the driveway with her frying pan in hand! So, chase I will. It takes effort. This is not a time to be nice.

Second of all, we are bound within our borders. Perhaps some, me included, have a little cabin fever. We have time on our hands, time spent with…the headlines, the reports of unemployment, sickness and death, an apex down the road, low stock of inventory, missing loved ones, despair…I guess that’s why they call it the blues. (Thank you Sir Elton)

For me, I’m going to fight it, do a little chasing of my own. Take some lessons from my coloring book and make some preparations for tomorrow…because I believe that the sun will come out then (thank you Annie).

RECIPE FOR TODAY:

Recognize what is emerging in your gardens. Assess what is coming back, what needs to be divided or moved, what spaces need to be filled for spring color. Take notes in a journal to prepare for next spring. If you are like me, you may also forget. Sketch and record.

Sort through your toolshed. Take stock of garden gloves, tools, potting soil; do your wheelbarrows need air in the tires? Make sure everything is clean, sharp and ready to use. Order some new gloves.

Follow directions on seed packets. Most seeds need to be started in a protected spot at this stage. Some can go directly in the garden now. I planted my peas on St Patrick’s Day. There is still time, but do it now.

Use your fine motor skills to drop seeds into the cells one by one.

Use your imagination to create a new garden - flower, herb, veggie or a combo; plant a beautiful window box to welcome spring. Add something blue to your beds - try amsonia, it’s a beauty! Blue pottery and a blue gazing ball are eyecatchers!

Contact me, I can help with your local projects.

Chase away the blues man…tell him to leave the package on the doorstep and drive away. Open the package when the clouds have lifted, the contents will look better then.

Amarillo is not just a city in Texas

Pronounced Am Uh Ree jYo, it is the color yellow in Spanish. I know this because I am working through the introductory pages of a Pre-K workbook of starter Spanish. I purchased the school book to work with my granddaughters when they came to stay with me at the first stages of isolation, school closings. My oldest is in the Spanish-immersion Kindergarten program in town, and I figured it would be a fun activity together to keep pace with her learning until this thing blew over. As it turns out, this thing didn’t blow over, and is most likely just getting started. The girls returned to their parents care and will not be coming back to me any time soon, as we maintain our distances…and I have an empty, unopened workbook. I figured, what the heck, broke out the crayons and started working my way through chapter one, colors.

Today’s color is amarillo, and as I look out the window and walk through the gardens, amarillo is busting out in pops and dots all around. Forsythia, daffodils, and the pollen of the crocus, all heralding the arrival of a new season, without reserve or isolation. During times of setback and adjustment, I take comfort in the trustworthiness of the seasonal cycles. The pollinators are on their way, some have already opened the doors of their winter homes. There are no restrictions on breathing fresh air or digging in the dirt or going for a stroll. No warnings to put your clippers down, so snip some daffodil stems and forsythia branches and bring some amarillo sunshine indoors.

RECIPE FOR TODAY: cutflower bouquet

Forsythia branch to force

Magnolia branch to force

Yucca leaves

Arrange in a large vase filled with water. I like to curl the yucca leaves under like ribbon candy. But play as you will, and have fun.

Adrift.

I feel relatively uninspired. The nations are restricting us people to our homebases to thwart the advances of Covid19, a global pandemic. During this isolation, the creativity of most is surfacing, embracing a new ration of time and space, an opportunity to paint, draw, laugh, dance, learn, write. It is a wonderful consequence. But me, I feel relatively uninspired, like a leaf being carried downstream atop a babbling brook, with twists and turns and the occasional obstruction of a fallen branch or outcropped rock to redirect or halt its course. It just “is”, adrift on something with power and force and direction, something other than itself. Yea, so that’s me, starting a blog, aimless and dependent on the flow of Him who carries me.

It’s not that I don’t have stories to tell…believe me, I do. Perhaps my pencil will reveal them in time. During days of uncertainty, the globe is literally being held captive by a novel coronavirus that has no cure and a contagious traffic pattern. In an effort to slow the commute to the ICU, many governments, the United States included, have restricted citizens to activity outside the home that is essential only. “Essential” may prove to be a big word down the road as mental health and financial well-being may enter the essential category to those healthy in body, but weakened in other aspects of being. I’m no expert, a mere leaf, remember; but I am curious how diverse the implications will be.

I became leaf-like, a floater, when my world changed dramatically not too long ago…though it feels like ancient history. Once self-directed and driven, now living quite simply with little anxiety and care, I don’t know how the transformation happened; perhaps clarity will come as I write more of the story. Since I am journaling as Suzy Sparkleberry, stepping back into her story, she begins here with a shovel, dirt overturned, and the sighting of her/my first earthworms of the season…perhaps making love and disturbed by my blade. My joy in seeing them wriggle brought me hope for a new season. Perhaps I disturbed their escape from an intruding outside world. Perspective, ah, perspective. So there I was pruning roses and giving their roots some homemade compost to break their fast. The forsythia are swelling, so the roses are expecting some attention. While I was sprinkling their driplines with an appetizer, the earthworms squirmed and tangled, and went back under the covers.

Other return visitors thus far have been the crocus, daffodils - the early ones, and hyacinth just getting started. I’ve raked out the tangled pachysandra and given a spring haircut to the perennials. The Easter grass is growing in baskets awaiting Resurrection Sunday when we may be forbidden to hunt. But we’ll have to see.

This week is a gray one, early spring rains. When the sun comes out, we will all shout hallelujah to welcome the joyous Spring landscape. Enjoy your new ration of time and space. I hope you are able to expend some of your newfound energy in the outdoors.

RECIPE for the week:

Rake beds on a dry day

Cut back perennials that have wintered in the garden

Prune roses and berries, compost the driplines

Cut stems of flowers getting ready to pop…enjoy in a vase indoors.

Take a good look, pause awhile