Three!

6 kids. 13 adults. Lots of Thomas the Tank Engine paraphernalia. Decent weather. Cigars (for the men). And lots of presents for a very excited little three-year-old boy. All in all, a relaxing and fun party. Happy birthday, Calvin!

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Progress!

I have been working my rear off (seriously, I have lost a few pounds) for the past couple weeks to try to make this kitchen garden project actually materialize into something three-dimensional rather than drawings or ideas in my head. There have been more than a few moments when I stared at the wood and then stared at the space and then stared at my "plans" and thought that perhaps I should have left this to a professional. But in the end taking the risk and getting a second opinion from my engineer father-in-law got it done.

Here's how the slope looked in 2009 when it was a flourishing rock garden.

Pretty. However, it did not stay that way. As the summer wore on and then into the next summer there were far fewer flowers and far more weeds to battle. Plus I have been wishing for more room with full sun to grow edibles and then I noticed a weed tomato in this garden last summer. It grew well and gave me lots of cherry tomatoes. So that's when I started to scheme about an overhaul.

Then came the hard work. I dug out every plant, every weed, every tiny bulb, and many, many large rocks. I dug and dug and dug down in the clay subsoil to set posts and I dug long trenches for the boards. Something I have learned during this process: 10-foot-long 12x1-inch white oak boards that are still green (aka, not dried) are HEAVY.

You of course need to use non-treated lumber when making raised beds in which you or future residents of your house may be growing edible plants. Treated lumber leeches chemicals into the soil which then get taken up by the plants' roots and then by you when you eat the leaves or fruits of the plant. Because the wood is not to be treated, it must be very hard wood and resistant to rotting. There are three species that are recommended: cedar, redwood, or white oak. Cedar can be expensive and redwood must be transported from a distance to get to the Midwest and therefore would contribute to pollution. So my best bet was white oak, which grows in Michigan.

I was lucky enough to find a guy who salvages fallen trees in the area and then cuts them into usable boards. He happened to have a ten-foot white oak trunk and cut it to my specifications. I could be confident that it was wood that would have rotted and gone unused if not for Kelvin Potter of Raven Farm. I knew it did not come from clear-cutting a forest and I knew it had not been shipped across the country on a truck that used up fossil fuels and coughed smoke into the air. I knew it had not been treated. It was cut into true 12 inch by 1 inch (rather an 3/4 of an inch) boards and delivered to my house for a minimal fee. It was cheaper than lumber at a chain store, of better quality, of certain origin, and it supported someone local to my community.

After cobbling together my terraced raised beds I added cow manure and peat humus to help loosen the soil some more.  I leveled my path at the top and then put down landscape fabric to keep out the weeds, then I covered it with pea gravel. I had some leftover wood that I was using to make the posts, so Zach and I ripped the posts down to approximately 1x1 inch poles that I've tied together to make into tepees for my beans! We're going to make two more tepees and some stakes for peppers and determinant tomato plants.

I got some veggie plants and herbs 1/2 off in Grand Rapids Thursday and plopped those in the soil today. Red onions, green onions, some indeterminant tomatoes, eggplant, broccoli, cucumber, dill, fennel, stevia, lemongrass, thyme, sage, oregano, arugula, and sweet peppers. Now all that is left to do is to finish populating the area with more plants and seeds. And that is the project that my son and I intend to tackle on Wednesday. We will be getting seeds for beans, nasturtiums, carrots, lettuce, spinach, and possibly pumpkins and/or acorn squash. Oh, and hopefully some rhubarb.

Here is what it looks like now:

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Glass Blowing, Giant Trains, Laboratories, and Chickens

Greenfield Village is part of the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan, near Detroit. It composes 240 acres of pastures, working farms, historic buildings from all over the world, and craftworks.

The historical interpreters at some of the homes cook their own meals using period methods and foods. These ladies in a Colonial home from Massachusetts cooked over a fire in the hearth despite it being a very warm day and they also tend a large assortment of raised garden beds full of herbs, vegetables, and berries.

The time periods represented by the buildings and attractions range from the Colonial period in the early 1700s to the Depression era of the 1930s.


This 1930s home is wallpapered in newspapers and the ceiling is covered with cardboard. The small kitchen
is about the size of a walk-in closet and has a minuscule stove and canned goods lining the wall.
The chicken coop in the back is bigger than the kitchen.


Historic homes, a windmill, a covered bridge, the one room schoolhouse where Henry Ford went to school, a plantation house, a farmhouse complete with farm animals, and a Main Street populated by a general store, a milliners, a jewelry shop and more keep company with a working railroad, a tinworks, a glassworks, weavers, silk spinners, a sawmill, a pottery studio, and the fascinating laboratories of Thomas Edison, all handpicked by Henry Ford and meticulously moved to the site over the course of a few decades.

Bottles of minerals and plants line the walls of Edison's laboratory.

Ford was so precise and wanted the buildings to be so perfect that for some every brick and every nail were numbered and put back exactly in their original position when the structure was rebuilt on museum grounds.

Ladies working at the Eagle Tavern

Last year my friend Valerie and I went down in June and had tea at Cotswold Cottage. This year we ate at the Eagle Tavern and had chicken croquette, roasted potatoes, pickled eggs, muffins, and asparagus, all prepared as they would have been in 1831.

Interior of the Eagle Tavern

We strolled the grounds, watched the glass blowing, talked to people about chickens and quilting, and admired the sheep and their lambs.

A curious ewe.

We looked through Edison's laboratory and saw the huge steam freight engine (and I mean huge).

This steam engine was about two stories tall.

We soaked in some sunshine and talked about herbs and formal gardens and vegetable gardens. And chickens. Have I told you how much chickens occupy my mind lately?

This biddy looks pretty no-nonsense.

We had an all around nice day and great conversation.

This is the kitchen in the Maryland plantation home. Interpreters sew quilts entirely by hand but when I asked where the quilts went after they were finished, this interpreter said, "I don't know. We make them and then they disappear, taken to some of the other houses for the beds." This is actually a fairly accurate picture of what would happen to the things the plantation slaves would have made. On this plantation they made hundreds of pounds of butter every year but were never allowed to eat any of it.

Sometimes it's nice to just take a day off with a good friend and go back in time for awhile.

The glassblowers deserve a post just for them. In my opinion, this is one of the most interesting and
entertaining parts of Greenfield Village. Coming soon!

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Eating Like a Grown-Up

Love this thrift store cup. Just 39 cents!

I don't know about you, but I really like "kid foods." You know, Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, peanut butter and bologna sandwiches, hot dogs, scrambled eggs with ketchup, macaroni and cheese, that wonderful-but-at-the-same-time-terrible Chef Boyardee "beef" ravioli. Stuff that is pretty bad for you but so very yummy.

When I was in the car on Friday with my friend Valerie, we talked a bit about whether we felt like "adults." Or rather if we felt the way we thought adults should feel when we were kids. Now, I have certainly felt more adult since having a kid, but as a child I always thought that once you were a certain age you just magically became an adult. Like suddenly you liked black coffee, you ate your eggs with just salt and pepper, you liked doing laundry, and you knew when to fertilize your lawn.

Last week someone on Facebook linked to this Onion article about the imminent disappearance of mature adults. Like most Onion articles, its satire is supposed to be funny but there is also some sad truth to it (which is what makes it funny, I guess).

It sort of corresponded to another conversation I recently had with my husband about growing up. We realized that it used to be that kids were denied a lot because they were too young or too little, and this made them desire adulthood so that they could participate. For instance, when I was young, I was denied wearing makeup and getting my ears pierced and wearing shoes with heels until I got to a certain age. Today I see five-year-old girls dressed like college students. And much of the time their moms are dressed just like them, trying to look younger than their age.

Life as an adult dog is somewhat more lazy than life
as an adult person.

We put such emphasis on youth in this country that there is hardly a reason for young people to want to grow up. They get everything they want. Now. I struggle with this with raising our son. We can essentially get him whatever he wants. But even though another matchbox car is just a dollar or another train is just $12, I don't want him to have everything he wants. I want him to know that in life there are times you can't have it all. I realize that those times my parents told me "no" when I wanted something wasn't because they couldn't afford it. It was because it isn't good for a child to get them everything they want.

So my own tendency when Calvin asks for something is to immediately deny the request with "You don't need that." I pick and choose lately, saying no to most toys but yes to experiences, like going for a walk, going to the zoo or the park, or eating something special. Hopefully I'm striking a balance that will help him in the long run. And perhaps by doing this I'm becoming a real adult.

This morning I ate an egg beaters omelette with tomatoes and onions and drank black coffee. Tonight I'll fold the clothes and be happy that things are a bit more in order in the house. Maybe next year we'll start taking better care of the lawn. Baby steps.

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An Eventful Weekend

Where to start . . .

I was going to do a series of blog posts on my Friday visit to Greenfield Village, but Saturday I was watching my son most of the day and didn't feel like blogging. The sun was shining and we wanted to get outside. Then Sunday we had a most eventful day. In a bad way.

It started when my son threw up all over himself and the pew we were sitting in at church. Luckily Grandma and Grandpa were there and I rushed off to get towels while Grandma took Calvin to get him cleaned up. His clothes were soaked. Miraculously, Grandma's clothes were unscathed despite the fact that Calvin had been on her lap when it happened.

I had no change of clothes for him, so I was just going to call it a morning and take him and Grandma back to the house to get him changed. We were about to pull out of the parking lot when Grandpa and a friend of mine ran up to the car and said that Zach had just collapsed at the pulpit while he was preaching. We rushed back in and were followed by firemen from the station across the street. We moved Zach (well, he moved himself with help as he was again conscious) away from the congregation's eyes and the medics gave him oxygen and questioned him. From what we can figure out, he was simply ill and should have been home in bed.

So, once everyone was fairly stable and another friend had returned from my house with new clothes for poor Calvin (who was sitting in his pull-up this entire time) I drove off with Zach and Calvin while Grandma and Grandpa followed. We had gotten about a third of the way home when Calvin projectile vomited and we had to pull over and clean him and the car up. We managed to get home without further incident, but Calvin remained sick, throwing up about every 20-30 minutes for the next five hours. His stomach finally settled down enough to have some Pedialyte and go to bed.

Zach also seemed to improve during the day, though even today he still feels foggy. Today the boy was back to normal and I guess whatever he had, he's over it. If Dad is suffering from the same thing, I think I can officially say that we have entered that phase of life where we just don't bounce back like we used to when we were kids.

I don't know how I would have held up on Sunday if it was just me and both my boys were in such dire straits. I'm so very thankful that Zach's parents happened to be visiting that day (though, it was a less than stellar visit, as you can imagine). They cleaned up puke, emptied buckets, gathered dirty towels, offered good medical advice (Zach's mother is an RN), and kept a cheerful attitude durng the whole ordeal.

So, later this week I'll post about Greenfield Village and how the kitchen garden project is coming (hint: it's going to be awesome!) and someday I'll get around to some sewing posts again. It's just gotten to that busy outdoor time of year and sewing is sort of on the back burner. Oh, plus Calvin's 3rd birthday party is Saturday and the next day I'm starting a pretty intense diet. So lots going on and lots to share in the next couple weeks.

Sorry no photos for this post. But trust me. You wouldn't have wanted to see what I saw.

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Just Dandy

A dandelion in the fading evening light is one of God's simple masterpieces.

It's also my new desktop.

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Thinspiration

I was at my thinnest in November 2005 when we bought our house.

See how the seat of my pants are sagging here?
Yeah . . . They don't sag on me right now.

Not that you can really tell with the baggy painting clothes, but I looked great. And I felt great.

At this point these baggy sweat pants are more like leggings around my thighs.

Over the next couple years I put on 20 or 25 pounds. Then I got pregnant. And gained about 45 more. Yeah.

I managed last year to drop quite a bit of weight that had kept hanging around after the boy was born. I even got back to my pre-pregnancy weight. But not most of my pre-pregnancy clothes. Because, of course, after you carry and deliver a baby, you are just not the same shape. Now you are shaped like a mom. Ugh.



The dress I'm wearing here in November 2005 is my prom dress from my senior year of high school
seven years earlier. I just shortened it and added a cute shawl.


Then since I wasn't watching what I ate, I gained a bit of that weight back. About 10 pounds. It's pretty apparent that if I'm not constantly diligent I will end up quite overweight and unhealthy as I enter middle age in a few years.

But some mothers obviously manage to get trim and fit. Which means I can. Right?

Right.

It just takes making the right decision about food each time I'm presented with the opportunity to choose to either eat a reasonable amount of healthy food or to gorge myself on comfort food. It means I need to find time to get back to exercising. It means I need to be smart about the grocery shopping and not buy things for the boy that I also like but shouldn't eat (because while "everything in moderation" is a nice philosophy, sometimes you have to admit your weaknesses and not sabotage yourself).

Because if I ever want to look like this again (and I do) . . .

I can't begin to imagine the depression that would ensue if I tried on that blue dress right now.

. . . it's not going to just happen by itself. It's going to take discipline and hard work.

The previous two photos are from the weddings of two of my cousins. My third cousin (yes, I only have three) is getting married at the end of August. I want the photos from Andy's wedding to look just as good as the ones from Mac's and Nick's weddings. And for that to happen, I have to make it happen.

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Those "Someday" Clothes

Here's my lunch today.

Yep, I'm trying to lose weight again.

Last weekend my husband and I bought a wardrobe from Ikea (it was a steal) so he could empty out the closet in our son's room. After we put it together last night, Zach tried on every shirt he owns (which, because he doesn't typically get rid of anything of his own free will, was a lot) and parted with about 3 trash bags full. Some were too big. Some were too small (one comically so). And frankly some were just too early '90s, despite the fact that they were well-loved. I was very proud of him.

And now it's my turn. I've been keeping a lot of clothing that hasn't fit me in about four years. You know, because I'm going to lose weight. Someday. But I figure at this point one of the surest ways to be successful losing the weight is to get rid of most of those "someday" clothes. And I'm going to get rid of things that fit me that I never wear because I don't really like them. There is just no point in taking up closet space with stuff that doesn't fit or stuff you don't like. Especially since I could replace almost all of it with homemade items that are unique and fun to create. I will keep a few things in classic styles that I know I looked great in before I gained weight. But most things will go on to other people who hopefully need them more than I do.

Zach and I are ready to get serious again about our weight and our health. So we'll be grilling and biking and working our way back to the healthy territory we occupied when we first moved in to our house in the middle of the Mitten. And praying for success!

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True Friendship

In our age of email and social networks, many of us can claim to have hundreds of friends. But it's likely that only a few of those people actually know us completely or truly as friends. I can count on one hand those people in my life to whom there are no locked doors, no places in my heart and mind that are off limits. One of these is my childhood best friend with whom, though we have lived apart for 16 years (more than half our lives), I am lucky to still share a special bond.

For the past several years Tina has lived in Colorado and I have seen her infrequently. We don't really talk on the phone or email much. But, as it is with all true friends, when we do have a chance to get together, it is easy to pick up where we left off. And when we part I feel that same sweet ache as I did when we were fifteen and I said goodbye to her that August when she left for boarding school and I remained.

Last summer I had the great privilege of attending Tina's wedding to a wonderful man named Ben. It made me so happy to see my dear nomadic friend settled with a man she loves, in a job she is passionate about. Tina and Ben were visiting Tina's family in Michigan for the past week and I was thrilled that they were able to squeeze in a little detour to my house last night. We chatted, ate pad thai and sushi, laughed, and did a little reminiscing before they had to head back to her parents' house.

After Tina moved away a new person stepped into fill the void in my life. That very year I started dating the guy who would later become my best friend and then my husband. And while I have a couple other girlfriends I'm close to, and while I am lucky enough to call my sister one of my closest friends, no one has known me or has influenced me quite like Tina and Zach have, and their friendship has played a large part in making me into the person I am today.

I wish we could see each other more often, but I am grateful for these stolen moments when time stops just long enough to remind me of those days when Tina and I lolled on her hammock, explored the beach at her cottage, ran down steep sand dunes, milled about during intermission at the Bay City Players theatre, and talked about the boys we liked as we sat on her second floor bedroom windowsill, dangling our legs outside.

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A Furry Visitor

This sweet opossum visited the backyard today and was kind enough to pose for a couple minutes for me.

I don't know if it is male or female, but if it is female it is likely carrying 10 to 15 tiny babies in its pouch.

You are welcome, little opossum, to stay in my yard and eat my slugs.

But please stay out of my trash can and look both ways before you cross the street.

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Screaming Swallows

"Get off my house, interloper!!"

*smug smile*

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Detroit for Sale

Anyone in the market for a fine example of Roman Baroque architecture in the heart of beautiful downtown Detroit?

I say "beautiful downtown Detroit" with my tongue nowhere near my cheek. I spent Mother's Day weekend in the Detroit area, much of it walking downtown and admiring the many beautiful buildings that have managed to survive the rash of demolition and replacement with hideous concrete and glass monstrosities that so many big cities experienced in the 1960s and 1970s.

Downtown Detroit is cleaner than you might expect, especially if you have ever perused the many ruin porn photos that highlight the blight of Detroit. It's not full of gang bangers toting guns or prostitutes or shady looking drug dealers. I'm sure those people exist in Detroit, as in any big city, but they're not hanging around Greektown or the Fox Theatre or the very pleasant walk between the two. There are many empty storefronts, however, so entrepreneurs take note! Start-up is probably relatively cheap there and you can be part of the remaking of a great city.

The Wayne County Building is gorgeous and I do hope it is filled soon. The county seat has apparently moved into the also historic Guardian Building, but it is a huge shame to leave this magnificent structure empty, especially when it is so unlikely that it will be filled any time soon. So if you're interested in creating a museum in a historic building, here's your chance. Just make it classy, please.

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Turtle Parade

Okay, so technically a parade is something that moves and these guys are quite statuesque. But it's more a parade than a kick line, certainly. May has brought with it true spring and these reptiles, who spent the winter and the cold spring dug into the earth and covered with leaves, are happy to be soaking up the sun. As are the rest of us.

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The Kitchen Garden - It's On Now

It's happening! The backyard garden overhaul is underway for real. The wood (salvaged white oak from a local source) is ordered and I am digging up the zillions of little scilla bulbs that have been spreading over my slope for who knows how long. I'm passing them on to a friend who got one as a stowaway in a previous floral gift and who fell in love with it this spring as they are up so early and don't mind the extra snow.

Once the ground is cleared and the wood is in place I will finally make use of the compost that has been rotting for years in the bin and dig that nutrient-rich stuff down into the clay-dominant parts of my new beds. After that comes the very fun part of deciding just what to buy and plant. Calvin seems very into the whole idea and keeps saying, "You eat the carrots and I'll eat the beans and Daddy will eat the tomatoes."

Besides those three must-haves, I'm thinking that I will certainly have spinach, lettuce, onions, garlic, rhubarb, and cucumbers. I'd also like to try acorn squash and I'd love to do potatoes, though I think I need a bit looser soil to make those work. My husband recently requested eggplant.

What else should I consider? What can you not do without when it comes to your vegetable garden? All sage advice, tips, and tricks warmly accepted!

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The Value of Modern Technology

I have mixed feelings about some of our comparatively recent developments technology.

I love that I can digitize manuscripts for work and listen to them on headphones while I do housework or sewing. Still, I hate that the coffee shop I was in yesterday was completely filled with college students but that every one of them was alone, silent, and was listening to an iPod or texting. I hate that I can hardly have a conversation with some people without them not-so-subtly looking down and reading—and sometimes responding to—a text they received. I hate hearing a cell phone go off during church, a movie, or a funeral (yes, it happens). I hate that personal technology has made a large portion our populace completely self-absorbed and incredibly rude.

I love that if I know I've seen that guy somewhere when I'm watching a movie at home I can quick look him up on IMDB and figure out what else I've seen him in. I love that if I'm curious about a reference to an event or person or phenomenon I can Google it and find lots of information on it. But I hate that I can also find lots of ill-informed opinions on it, as well as completely unrelated and repetitive blinking and moving advertisements on the web pages.

I love hilarious little things on YouTube and FailBlog and WhenParentsText and NickHolmes. But I hate that so much of it encourages me to laugh at the misfortune of others and that I always end up thinking more about how dumb some people are rather than setting my mind on noble things.

When it comes down to it, do the Internet and smart phones and iPods really enrich life? I have serious doubts about this.

My friend Ted blogged this week about the illusion of shared consciousness and experience that you get from Facebook and the blogosphere when it comes to reading about big news like Osama bin Laden's death. I highly recommend reading it.

Reading his blog post got me thinking again on this question of whether the Internet serves me or I serve the Internet or whether there is a healthy balance one can strike. Two years ago I gave up Facebook for Lent. I didn't really miss it a whole lot. So why did I pick it back up again? It's an easy way to share pictures. For some people it's how they follow this blog. There's no harm in it, really.

Were those my real reasons? Well, partly. As uncomfortable as it makes me to admit it, I think a bigger reason was that I wanted people to read my ramblings and think I was clever. I wanted people to be interested in me. I wanted them to tell me what great photos I took and how cute my son was.

And the more I recognize this, the more uncomfortable it makes me.

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An American Redstart . . . and a Bit of Dickinson

Hope

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune—without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

                         ~ Emily Dickinson

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Tyke on a Bike

Some time ago my mother the garage sale queen found a little Thomas the Tank Engine bike in like-new condition for a pittance. The boy wasn't tall enough to reach the pedals and then it was winter, but this morning Daddy got it out of the attic and away they went.

It was slow going as Dad moved Calvin's feet on the pedals.

Calvin was concentrating pretty intensely, but he was also definitely enjoying himself.

But still he was too serious to give me a real smile.

The report from Dad when they got home was that he's very good at steering and he's very good at pedaling, but he doesn't necessarily do them really well at the same time yet. But I bet by the end of the summer he will be zooming along. I'm just hoping that he has a better relationship with his bike than Calvin of Calvin and Hobbes.

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A Perfect Spring Afternoon -- Finally!

My backyard bird count went up one to 36 species today when I noticed this little guy, an almost-adult wood thrush sitting by the grill.

It's odd to see wood thrushes in suburban settings as they prefer being safe within wooded areas. But springtime winds always send a few birds off course. I'm sure there are a lot of tiny nomads across the South after those terrible storms. Springtime visitors to my yard in years past have been the common yellowthroat warbler, who I'm pretty sure ran into my sunroom door, and a rose-breasted grosbeak. Seems like since I started blogging in 2008 I've added about two species each year to my list, though I'm not always lucky enough to get pictures of them.

You may notice a resemblance between this wood thrush and the American robin. They are both thrushes and are similar sizes and have similar eating habits. American robins, however, have adapted better to life in the suburbs.

Since the weather was so very nice out this afternoon my husband and I sat outside while our boy was napping and watched the antics of squirrels and chipmunks and birds and envisioned a life as old folks training squirrels and chickadees to eat from our hands. Here's a sampling of our little friends.

It's pretty apparent that life as a squirrel involves a hierarchy, and this guy is on top in our yard. But that doesn't stop a wily chipmunk fom trying to get his share.

He lurks beneath the feeder, waiting for the opportune moment. Mostly he psyched himself out and ran or was chased away, but at one point he ran right over top of the squirrel, which seemed to surprise them both.

This uneasy truce lasted about as long as it took my camera to take the picture. Lucky shot.

We also spied house finches, goldfinches, blue jays, cardinals, and chickadees (standard visitors) along with some red-winged blackbirds who have been hanging around a lot lately.

Noticeably absent today were the downy and hairy woodpeckers and the nuthatches. But you can't have it all, I suppose.

I'm quite pleased that my son is so interested in feeding the birds, the dog, and the fish, and that he "helped" build a little birdhouse this week. He really loves small animals (not that the dog is small), thinks that "birds are so nice," and this morning informed me "when I turn into a fish I will swim in that tank."

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