Ocean Elation

If water is whence all before you have come
and whither your ashes one day will be strewn

It's sensible meanwhile to seek  full immersion
and not pay much mind to your natural aversion

It's a proactive choice of the will, I suppose
and it's best to be bearing some stored adipose

You hear a lone gull, feel a swirl and a lift;
you draw in your breath, immerse, and then drift

Lightly, but firmly, the sea will caress you
though what moves in the dimness may slightly distress you

Then, calm and alert as you cool down your vagus
You are free from the pains of tension and sadness

The cold and the fear soon give way to elation
With a grin, you release your salty libation

When it's time to repurchase the gravel and climb
you have gained more than shore, 
and saved more than time

 

Working and enjoying the small patch of land – July 2021

The garlic is drying in the greenhouse, the last snap peas and lettuces are getting wilting in the fridge, strawberries and asparagus have petered out, and I am in entering peak summer harvest season. There are fruits: currants, jostaberries, currants, red and white raspberries, blueberries, goumi, a few early blackberries and gallons to come. The two aronias are loaded with green berries while I use up last year’s bounty in the form of pressed juice; my seven apple trees are shaped, fed, thinned, and in the middle of a productive year.

Vegetables: kale, broccoli, cabbage, onions, a few tomatoes, zucchini, beets, carrots. I could pull several types of potatoes but still have last years’ to eat up, roasted with garlic and herbs in the pan. A beautiful little purple eggplant is swelling, peppers green and growing fatter. The pole beans have reached above my head, purple and green Brussels sprouts promise to be ready in a few weeks and produce to fall and beyond.

For herbs, I have harvested two rounds of oregano, one of thyme and savory, and made a quart and a half of basil pesto, now frozen in muffin papers. The rosemary and sage produce year round now.

I am even eating some of the “weeds”: succulent and lemony purslane, delicious steamed pigweed and lamb’s quarters. I continue to stock my fridge with dandelion root, though this is less of a focus than in the spring, when I made and enjoyed several batches of what I call dandejoe, a coffee-like drink great in latte form. There are others I want to add to my palette, but that will wait until a leaner garden season when I have more need and more time.

Warm, sunny days make for lots of energy for plant growth, but we’re in a drought as is usual now for summer, so as I care for my big garden, I’m thinking a lot about water management and consumption. Years ago there were substantial rain events where everything got deeply irrigated and the need for supplementation from our local lake (the city water source) was minimal. I thought about using gray water even then, remembering my parents’ simple system–a pipe whose gray, slightly soapy effluent fed a mini-swamp that infiltrated through the sandy lawn and garden below. The septic tank was under the lawn and was pumped every few years.

Creating a rain catchment and gray water system are part of the house remodel plan I started a few years ago, but now that I have funding for the project, costs are up 30-40%, so this has to wait. I still have an asphalt roof which leaches petroleum based contaminants that I don’t want even on my landscape plants, since they too indirectly feed my compost operation–it’s all connected. Meanwhile I toss dishpans of waste water from the kitchen sink several times a day onto my needy beds and greenhouse crops and cycle through sprinkling the various areas using soakers and sprinklers connected to valve-directed garden hoses. I think about all the other barely used water escaping from the other sinks and showers and the washing machine, and the nutrient-rich water going out to the sewer via the toilet. These losses need to be reconnected with the loop of my home ecosystem instead of sent out for treatment and loss into the Salish Sea, however many marine communities they may support there.

Fortunately for my plants, I have clay-rich soil. No, that’s not a contradiction, since clay is not only rich in minerals but also holds onto water beautifully, and with amendment of compost, also releases enough, with dissolved minerals, to keep even my unirrigated (small) lawn happy. A deep, periodic watering of each area is all that’s needed except if I’m nurturing seedlings. If I slacken off on adding compost, yes, the soil turns to concrete, but if well managed, I can smile at the wails of all my neighbors and online gardening colleagues who have purchased or native sandy loam in their raised beds and see their plants dying without frequent water. Raised beds, I keep telling them, are not advisable for such soils, but they are the prevailing fashion for those who can afford them, for their tidiness I suppose.

In a side note, I do love the tidiness of raised beds, which I built after many years of raking low bed mounds each year, leaving paths of bare soil. Using cedar lumber when it was affordable, and now bordering with rocks I’ve dug out of other areas, I made . I use them because clay takes so long to become warm and workable in the spring, and because paths covered with wood mulch are much less demanding–my raked paths of the past became hardpan populated with quick-seeding plantain, hawkweed, thistle, and other opportunistic wild plants that were a pain to dig and reroute into my compost system. The “weeds” I have now (weeds defined as plants that require more of me than they give while growing in that location)–the same, are easily removed before they go to seed, so I can simply pull or hoe and lay them between my plants as green mulch. Currently I have over 1400 square feet of raised beds and over a thousand at ground level, not including non-food areas.

Back to water needs: I went looking for a way to purify water from my asphalt roof and found this blog describing a system developed by Dave. I liked both the system and the way he wrote–I have been stuck trying to figure out new bells and whistles for this and my new blog under development, and hence wasn’t getting any words out there at all. So here I am again.

I donated to Dave’s ad-free work on filtration systems, and got the PDF plans. Wow! I will need the help of my engineering friends for this, but what a cool project, with the promise of majorly reducing toxins running off my roof! If I can incorporate one as a project for my science classes this fall, it could feed the nascent garden we started this spring. That wouldn’t fit into the chemistry class I’m slated to teach, but could possibly be part of elective I can pitch to my principal, who is a great supporter of real-life, creative and fun course ideas.

All my garden plants are now deep rooted and healthy, but I’m about to start fall seedlings, and not looking forward to the babysitting they will need just when I want to travel a bit and let the garden coast. But I’ll figure it our with the help of my adult kids still at home and willing to earn their keep. Seed pots in trays to store enough water for a day or two, corralled into an accessible area and shaded a little by nearby bushes should do it. It will be fun to return after a trip and see the changes.

Energy for photosynthesis: check. Water for photosynthesis, cell health and transport: ongoing. For plant nutrition, I feed everything with my own compost and specific purchased slow release mineral-rich mixes derived from organic and marine sources. All my plant and some of my animal food and garden waste goes into that (including dog and cat turds, though I bury these a food deep in holes I distribute among my fruit trees). But I am thinking of closing another loop that will bring in another source of richness. I just purchased a composting toilet. I decided on the Separett Villa, which is well reviewed, looks good, and will work well in my throne room with its fan and a roof vent. My current relatively efficient Toto can replace the traditional toilet currently in the hallway bathroom, and I’ll use parts from that one in turn for an outdoor pee privy supplied with a bucket of sawdust. Free organic waste, over 20% less water waste, and less energy used for treatment down the line. It’s a win-win! I’ve been wanting to do this for years; first wrote about it in this post.

So many projects on the go for this teacher-on-vacation! Not including building lumber storage, finishing my crawl space drainage effluent garden, new flagstone paths and rock walls, lawn shrinkage and improvement, removal of several buried layers of landscape fabric (what were we thinking! Free the worms! Free the roots!), and an outdoor woodworking are and grape arbor in the works. I work on all this mornings and evenings, and cool off midway with a dip in my local lake. This is the life!

 

Death is a function

Three days after you died I created a new life for you. You were happy and loved me. You stopped at every perched and singing bird. Your eyes were wide, inquiring, sweet.

I made a memory of you sitting with me on that wide, wooden boat crosspiece, pitching a little with your hips to make the dark water undulate. You took my hand, helped me climb onto the dock, and lay belly down with me on the warm, tarry wood to watch the minnows stream by in the shadow we made.

 

Yard and garden projects worthy of months of near quarantine

I finished out my school year last week and have my vacation stretched out before me. It’s a cool summer night after a warm day, one of the few this month. This may signal a real entrance into summer at last, good for the tomatoes and cucumbers that have barely been hanging in there through the cool damp we call Junuary.

Yesterday I discovered and pulled up three tomato plants that had begun to succumb to the irreversible and contagious early blight, a first for my gardening career. I grew other tomatoes sufficiently distant, including some in my greenhouse, so I should still get a good crop. The others are all robust and ready, beginning to need ties to their stakes, but only slowly growing, late to flower and only one in the greenhouse has formed fruit.

The experimental eggplants and peppers I set outside a month ago are a total loss, as are the cantaloupes seeded a few weeks ago, and the watermelons I planted out after a few months of greenhouse protection.

The local FaceBook gardening group I joined features many variations on the question, “What’s wrong with my tomatoes/cucumbers,etc.,” and correct answer is always “too cold still–just wait and see.” The inexperienced gardeners who plant tomatoes too early just because they are for sale for the gullible and for those with greenhouses watched them decline and die.

Beans have been mowed down by slugs through late, rainy mornings and cloudy afternoons, basil struggled with both the weather and various grazers, and yielded an anemic-looking harvest. Even a few broccoli could not keep up with the usual predators and were so stunted I pulled them up. Other garden rookies who never plant anything until Labor Day may have the right idea for this year at least.

Still, the cabbages and their kin came through these extra spring rains splendidly–I have been eating kale, Chinese cabbage, choi and radishes for weeks, and the tops of the cauliflower have formed their secret chambers where white heads will emerge in all their glory soon. Brussels sprouts look the best I’ve ever seen, with tiny buds swelling daily in the crook of each leaf. Lettuces and spinach are almost all harvested and a second planting seeded, or soon to be. Peas are in full production, sweet and tender. Thyme and oregano, as well as asparagus, all perennials, have also all been productive, with the herbs ready for a second cutting soon, the first dried and in jars.

The end harvest of the once-and-done plants and those prone to go to seed will free up more space for new greens, beets, and late summer and fall crops, if I renew the clay soil with organic matter and minerals and irrigate through the summer.

This is where I must strengthen my resolve to keep working or I’ll have a production gap later–no rest when the garden is looking glorious, the days are hot and it seems that fall is eons away. No, I must get our in th emild morning and start more onions, brassicas (cabbage family), greens and other annuals in pots, as well as sow more beans, cucumbers, zucchini and maybe melons for a second shot now that it’s warm and the slugs have fewer hours in which to graze.

Plus there are cover crops to sow, compost and mulch to renew and of course lots of weeding, harvesting, thinning, pruning and training to do. I will have to fit in strawberry and pea harvest these next weeks, get the blueberries protected from birds, pick and freeze currants, and in a few weeks, harvest blueberries, raspberries, marionberries and then blackberries almost daily.

Few of these tasks feel like chores to me, and many, especially picking berries, are a delight. Loading up my granola and yogurt with three or four types of sun-warmed berries never gets old, and the simple task of popping the extras into the freezer means healthy flavor all winter and into spring.

Then there’s the new yard drainage system to finish: trenches to slope, a new pond in back and rain garden in front to sculpt (fed by a new sump pump that is keeping my crawl space happy). These may become two rain gardens instead, depending on if the pond can be made to retain water year round.There will be paths, mulched with wood chips or maybe paved with stone or recycled concrete. I’ve even dreamed up a low rock wall to surround the unkempt Pippin apple tree and its groundcover of strawberries.

Working at home this spring gave me hours extra to plan more ambitious projects, and follow a learning curve on design, execution, and maintenance of the new system. Dating a guy who loves to get his hands dirty and is both an artist and engineer, with the muscle to help with the digging and trenching, made things happen even more quickly than I’d hoped and made it extra fun. My seventeen year old son is enjoying pitching in with digging in the much too. All good, as I gave myself tendonitis this spring by too many hours of pulling roving buttercup weds out of the muck around my trees and bushes, moving blackberry plants from one heavy clay area to another specially raised and amended, and pulling up landscape fabric to finally free the diurnal paths of the local soil fauna.

There’s more–the return of my young people and friends due to the pandemic created a make work opportunity while I housed them temporarily, so I have a partially finished giant three-bay compost and shed roof replacement to finish up. We did not get to the capping of the retaining wall and completion of the cedar fence replacement, both of which have been stalled for several years. Today I started the process of learning how to cut concrete blocks for the wall, but the digging of fence pot holes and decision making involved in the fence project are beyond me right now. The retaining wall will more straightforward and good project for summer, as it’s located on the shady side of the yard. More fun that finishing painting the trim, though that must be done too while days are long and I’m not working.

All this makes me look forward to each day. Yes, sometimes I take off for a bike or swim, or go visit my special guy and we play around in his shop, work on his home projects, go out, or watch a movie, but I truly enjoy having projects on the go, preferably several at once but mostly with completion in mind. Or, in the case of gardening, the productive seasonal round and useful work that benefits my life, health, and environment. Sometimes I have doubts about my ability to sustain so many, but console myself with the thought that a good number really will be complete and only some are ongoing. I have an eye to simplification, to making more space for time with my friends and family, to taking care of my body as age wears more on my joints and changes my energy level. But I know I’ll always want to stay active. Both my parents set examples there–Mom walking daily, Dad doing Tai Chi, sawing wood and managing a garden. Both are artists with materials and words, both make music.

The one thing that sometimes bothers me is whether I might be too inclined to fill my days with activity at the cost of reflection and contemplation, or even relationships and service. What is the right balance there?

 

 

Typical day, teacher working and learning from home

I get up anywhere from 5:30 to 7:30, depending on when I got to bed and if I needed extra sleep. AT 5:30 there’d be time for a walk, run or bike and shower, if medium, a leisurely breakfast and morning reading, if late, then coffee and a bowl of breakfast at my computer. In any case, no half hour commute, no extra hour or two of unpaid class prep to fit in. And there is grace and flexibilty about starting time and work hours.

Feed dog and cat. Drink my latte as I gaze at the morning light, instead of sipping it reheated at my desk in the classroom. Breakfast is the same–I never did rush that, never will.

I can address dishes and counter messes with more thoroughness than before, and there are more of them. I have additional housemates, with two daughters and their boyfriends temporarily moved in—one couple in a camper out front, the other in what was becoming my sewing room. Their job prospects have dwindled or dried up. House sharing issues remain, but we are getting into a better routine and sharing responsibilities. As I remind the young people periodically, am not the housekeeper, not  the breadwinner except my youngest. If I choose to cover the others’ expenses it will shield them from reality and not be helpful in the long run. If they are genuinely doing their best and not able to make ends meet, we will talk. We regularly have conversations about what is owed and what is given. If anyone eats from the garden, they should weed or water in return.

If there’s time before work I check on my seedlings (there are more than ever due to extra time at home), harvest and weed a little, checked out by the local hummingbirds, scan for growth.  next tasks to tackle after work, jobs to assign to my kids. Grass is getting long and rain is on the way. Dog turds need to be scooped and buried. But that’s afternoon work, for the kids.

I login on work laptop around 8. I’ve brought my adjustable sit-stand desk converter home, hooked up to a large monitor so I can easily switch to view my home PC when the work is done. Check email, web-based chat and call appointments for the day, make a mental to do list.

Since I am, by law, not emergency remote teaching as I would be now at a regular school, but rather supporting homeschooling families on hold from on campus classes, there are no lessons to create, no assigning, printing, grading. No tweaking seating arrangements, no creating activity groups or props, no booking laptops, tech or lab setup. While teachers in the regular system struggle to prioritize learning targets for the last months of school, upskill in new tech, record video lessons, and upload or deliver materials, my load is actually lighter now. I produce a weekly newsletter with suggested resources for biology and math, check in with each student by , and with the rest of my time, collect resources, get familiar with new technologies for likely new models of teaching, work on next year’s physics units, and build up resources for teaching science to all ages and no math, which is the plan for next year.

It’s still quiet in the house, the young people sleeping in, even my normally early bird youngest. Except to see one daughter sleepily carry her little dog out to the back yard, I see little of the five of them until after ten, sometimes later. I might record another chapter of Wild Season by Allan Eckert for posting on my teacher website. Though my students’ classes used to begin at 8:30, now I assume calls should not start until 10 am unless prearranged. I search out new resources, update paperwork–who have I contacted, who’s got back to me, notes, respond to emails, Until I feel a need to move.

This is tomato start month, so there are plants to repot, set in the sun, and water. A few runts to cull, orders to arrange, deliveries to plan, updates to post, requests for pots to send out. Other plant to start and care for as well for my own garden and a few friends. More people than ever are growing gardens and interested, though it’s in ones or twos for tomatoes. I will be planting at least a dozen for my own use fresh, dried, canned and frozen, and for a roadside veggie stand. Cutting expenses and building savings in case my job goes away. Cost for tomatoes not including labor, about $80. Income $100-$200, food savings more than that, environmental footprint reduction, unknown but significant.

Late morning to afternoon I run online chats with individual students & mom (it’s always mom) or a group. I’ve learned to turn off the option for students to change their names or post messages, and bring a few sharing prompts. I ask students hanging out muted without video coverage to make their presence known. I encourage students to address questions to one another, add to what others are saying, indicate with a hand signal they wish to speak. The science meeting this week was good—several students shared what they were reading and learning so I built on those. one was reading a scientific article in her area of interest, poultry nutrition, and another shared what he’d learned about a sleep study conducted by Russian scientists. Several weighed in on the ethics of using human subjects for such studies, and considered the tendency of scientists to try things because they could, and the need to have ethics and values be part of the process.

The day flies by. I pout in a last few phone calls to students who have not made contact yet, and my work day is done. There’s still plenty of daylight. Time to connect with the kids, coordinate chores, organize the garage or shed , spend an hour or two gardening, or jump on my bike for a training ride. The triathlon, the first ever I’ve signed up for, is cancelled, but training is still on.

Like many others I have been able to catch up on projects at home. After needing one for years, I finally built a roadside stand table and will be able to attach accessories next week to discourage deer grazing and secure payments. As I sawed and drilled, I had to marvel at the new mental bandwidth that allowed me to clearly see how it should be done, while before, not only was I lacking time  and energy during the school year, but also mental focus for creativity and problem solving at home. After a week or so of recovery in June, it would slowly return for summer work, but I had forgotten that my mind was capable of figuring out most things, even where I lack experience as in woodworking. As the routine at the computer gets more streamlined, my plan is to include in my work day some work on science teaching props such as tools for exploring magnetism, electricity, and wave properties, teaching games, demo, lab, and activity kits. Also filming demos, gardening activities, and happenings in nature.

Throughout the rest of yy day I am reflecting on how this phase of life will affect educational outcomes, study habits, attitudes toward learning, home, family, self. So many variables have been tweaked. I have predictions to make, and want to look up others’ writing on these topics as well as create my own. We are always learning.

 

 

East, INTP, Beaver, Enneagram Type 5 speaks out

I am a pretty detached person. Not easily toppled, not easily shaken, somewhat aloof. I am independent, self-reliant, need my space. I cherish my colleagues, friends, and relatives, but mostly from a distance, unless they seem sad or lonely, or may be misunderstanding my aloofness as judgment of some kind. I do not assume I am needed, or wanted at any particular moment, I do not like to interrupt, disturb, or take others’ time. I try to keep my talk to a minimum, am always conscious of the need to finish what I have to say, and to be a better listener. I need a lot of clues and subtle assurances that someone wants to hear more, to know or spend time with me, that someone values my thoughts or feels close to me. I never assume, I do not need many friends, do not need much time with the friends I have, and so sometimes my friends may feel neglected by me. I sometimes lose interest in people who show too much uncritical interest in me, though I have learned to accept compliments and appreciation, neither blushing nor rejecting, but as a kindness we all need and is a blessing to give.

I have a rich interior life, an active intellect, an inquiring mind. I am continually reflecting, analyzing, looking at things from various angles, questioning, wondering. I am an observer, a reader, a copious note-taker. I want to get at the details, roots, befores and afters, causes and effects, determine reasons, extrapolate effects, weigh implications. I feel periodic urges to learn everything there is to know about a given topic, to become an expert, but not by doing as much as reading, listening, talking and debating it out. I am stimulated by controversy, paradox, argument, debate.

I have ideas, lots of them, creative, alternative, various. I delight in imagining, projecting, envisioning, sketching out, listing, ordering, designing, mapping. I sew, draw, have quilted, designed some minor remodels, written some songs and poems, and a lot of letters and essays.

Gardening is my favorite pastime– I find it fully engaging, a truly multi-dimensional, creative, sensual, practical, experience, deeply satisfying at a primal level, and intellectually and physically challenging. I can learn and learn, and experience the fruit of this, but not be complacent or presumptuous. There is always something new happening in a garden, but even continuity may be surprising.

When I was a girl, I was bored with the arrangement of the furniture in my bedroom. So I drew a top view map to scale, marked off inches, measured and located all windowsills, electrical outlets, heating vents, and doorways. I measured each furniture piece, created movable cardboard pieces representing each, and laid them out in one formation after another until I was satisfied, and then moved my furniture accordingly.

My first garden was the same. I planned the shape, researched the methods, mapped out the four year rotations, ordered seeds, formulated amendments, layered compost, scheduled seedings, pottings, plantings, and prunings. I learned discipline of the body as I worked in four dimensions to produce food for several households and run a business.

At work, I am a slow planner. While many days, I am throwing down tomorrow’s lesson plans by the seat of my britches due to lack of time and teaching a new course for the first time, when I have lots of time I use every bit of it as I back up to the big picture view of scope and sequence, to laying out, layer my layer, and in increasing detail, a plan that includes key concepts, learning targets, vocabulary, at least two or three separate resources to support the main curriculum, ties to other subjects and previous and future courses, integrated projects, rubrics, collaborative protocols, note taking scaffolds, and ideas for enrichment and community or career connections. I work on the first of many units until the night before I need to teach, then, having run out of time, whip out a seat-of-my-britches plan on all subsequent days until I have a teacher work day. I forget where my original detailed opus is, so I start it all over again, though it’s somewhat in my mind in the rough. I am learning to be more realistic, though, more practical. Good enough can be good enough, especially when one is  a little worn out.

On a team with the task of getting something done, I want to dig into the information, talk it out, get everyone’s ideas, get all the facts, variables, forward and backward considerations before I lay anything down. After this initial phase, during which I take lots of notes, I want to go off and be by myself, preferably for several hours or overnight with no other duties, to think it all through and come back with an intelligent, well thought-out plan, backed up by a well developed vision, purpose, and justification. Vision is key–I don’t want to go with the flow until I know what the source and the destination are, and whether they are worthy. It’s not enough for me to keep up with a trend, to stay up to date. I want to maintain a direction that is sustainable and leads in a positive evolutionary direction. But I defer happily, once I have said my piece, to the movers and the shakers, as long as they are guided by a decent vision, even if they more too fast at times. I do like to keep an eye out for anyone feeling bulldozed, not that I’m one of those Feelers, but I believe in true collaboration of diverse players, as any biologist should.

I am aloof, as I said, but also very curious about people. I want to know how they think, what interests them, how they approach life, problems, their work, relationships. I want to understand their strengths, gifts, talents, and ways of viewing the world, and why. I believe in the value of diversity for the resilience of a community, and want to be connected with many kinds of people, not with just people I “get” or who get me. I enjoy introducing friends from different circles to one another, assuming each will enrich the lives of the other as they have mine. I am not a jealous friend. Nor do I even understand that sort of thing, drama and such. Though I do find it amusing, and sympathize with those disturbed by this or that perceived slight.

I live so much in my mind, even a little information may occupy me, and I may forget to pay attention to those around me, to inquire into a person’s life, to ask good questions, to show sustained interest. I am startled into the realization periodically that I have not been a very good friend, while at other times I am given ample opportunity to love those around me in practical ways. I feel I am rather stingy of my time, energy, attention, protective of my space, but also, I know a need for relationships and fear their possible loss, at least of those very few I find sufficient.

I am trying to understand how I grieve. The way I explained to others who asked how I was doing was that I mostly live in the moment. There are some many fine moments in which to rest, and with people who care for me nearby, and my pleasures in weather, work, and words, I am never completely without resources, even when I am alone. At least, so far.

 

 

 

The man inside the boy

I don’t know what happened with my youngest son, but it’s good. I have been urging, reminding, cajoling, conniving, and ganging up on his to either do more physical activity of the ordinary kind such as biking to school, running, or swimming at the local pool, or join a school or club sport or team, to please, please choose something, and I’d support him. But he only dabbled, while his newly developed height with doubled number of muscle cells puddled in a chair as he played computer games for hours a day. I got into it with him the other day–he could see from my intensity how heartfelt my concern was, how serious a thing I felt it was to neglect one’s health that way, how he would be giving up the good feeling of strength, balance, and sense of accomplishment, even while his brain was tricked into thinking that the levels or perks of his gaming were some kind of real achievement. It was a hijack of his innate evolved dopamine reaction that didn’t pay the same dividend as REAL challenges, REAL risk, REAL conflict, trouble, and overcoming, I said. And no, I said, when he told me he needed me to “make him” exercise, I just couldn’t, with a full work schedule and disciplines of my own to fit in. I said he had to make himself, or sign up for something where he would be made to do the work. I acknowledged the reality of the temptation to yield one’s time and attention to those clamoring for it–the games, or movies, or social media for some. I told him it was too much–I had been willing to make athletics mandatory, but there was supposed to be an eventual owning of it, and it was past time.

He wasn’t planning to swim again this year–said he’d had too many ear infections. Last year, with lots of encouragement from his parents and his siblings, he chose to swim on the high school team, after years of unenthusiastically participating in summer league and improving each year, though never enough in his own mind to pay more than grudging acknowledgment to his gradual drop in race times. He felt nowhere near as good a swimmer as his brother and sister before him, though she assured him that his times were about the same as hers when she started. His brother had started much younger and so had immediately made varsity in his freshman year, going on to be count Swimmer of the Year and then almost make college nationals (in Canada). We assured him it didn’t matter, that it was about fitness and fellowship, and that we loved watching him swim, along with his grandparents. Also, he was becoming a bit of a specialist in backstroke, unlike his Freestyle/Fly siblings. So much for an easy choice –excellent coach, good group of boys, great fitness, and fun to watch for us. But it seemed to be over. His sisters had invited him to go for climbing and to the gym, but nothing was happening.

Then today, he burst out of his garage bedroom and said, one, that he was really glad his drum teacher had got him listening to jazz it was so amazing (he never listened to music before this, despite several years of piano lessons and now a few months of drumming), and two, that he wanted me to sign him up for swimming.

So I guess the exhortation with tears got to him where the gentle reminders and reasoning didn’t. He’s a heart guy, like his dad. He’s owning it, too–he doesn’t do things just to be compliant, but he does have a desire to do what’s right. He’s manning up, I think. I’m so proud of him Dare I hope that he’ll also heed my pleas to say no to first person shooter games, to protect his imagination, or to do real live work with his hands, like helping me build a new compost bin, or splitting some firewood, instead of virtual digital building and tearing down?

 

That was some good soup.

Creamy, red and rich, and with no added sugar. The level of sugar in commercial tomato soup, even the gourmet stuff, makes it not taste good to me. Same with most Asian restaurant food, Halloween candy, and ice cream. Making my own stuff for many years, I got to like the taste underneath the sweetness, and only add a little or none added to most recipes.

A few months ago, I was informed that my blood sugar in on the low borderline of pre-diabetic. Though I’m pretty lean, I’m not too surprised, as I had gestational diabetes for one of my pregnancies, and my mother, uncle, and grandfather, all got Type II diabetes. Still, their diet was pretty heavy on the bread, pie, and apple juice, and low on vigorous exercise, so I hope to stave off any need for treatment for many years.

What I think I need to cut down on next is caffeine. I use two to three times a day. It’s my only drug of any kind (no prescriptions yet), so I’m fortunate, but I’d like to be less dependent, and have room for more healthy drinks like turmeric (which I need for inflammation)  or mint tea. I or so. ‘m starting by delaying my first cup an hour or so. But for energy, I’ll have to figure out how to get more exercise, since the pool is packed in the morning, and I wrenched my bad arm last time I tried to swim laps; I want to run, but not too much on asphalt. I guess I can bring myself to drive to the trail now that I have an electric car–it always seemed not quite the thing to burn gas so I could get fit. The bike issue is not yet settled–I have one picked out–a tour bike in steel for carrying loads–but still nowhere to store it, and work is too far away to bike to. Which also seems wrong, to live a few blocks away from two schools and have to commute to another district for work.

This is all warmup, and I’m getting nearer what I think I need to write, But also, I’m falling asleep. To be continued.

 

I drugged my dog last night, got new glasses today, and tomorrow I will make soup.

I got a good night’s sleep because I dosed my anxious rescue dog with a light sedative. I was woken up by a pre-dawn downpour that left slushy sleet coating the ground and vehicles, but I always find the sound of rain relaxing and so I slept another good half hour after that.

For breakfast I stirred up some eggs with broccoli (picked yesterday), and strong cheese, pressed some coffee for the portable mug and a jarful for later in the day, and piled my teacher bags and craft supplies into the chilly car. I unplugged the charger, pressed the On switch, and whirred out for my half hour commute.

This week I’m listening to another audiobook from the mysteries section of the library, involving a stabbing of an upper crust millionaire in his castle while all the greedy, strange backbiting relatives are visiting and wishing here was better cell phone coverage and internet. It passes the time, and is better written and read that the last one. That one had lines like: “She fell and her head struck the cement. She had hurt herself.” Plus the reader’s attempts to “do” the male voices turned them all into irritating dweebs, even the ones the reader is meant to like. The story was okay, though–I considered rewriting it to make it bearable and hiring a different reader, but decided to stick with my own work.

I got new glasses today. The last ones were sturdy brown plastic, but growing brittle, and with a substantial scratch where they saved my eye socket from worse injury when an iron patio chair unfolded suddenly into my face. I think I’ll make a Christmas tree ornament out of them in honor of that role, along with my old mouth guard, which has been protecting my molars from grinding wear at night. I’ve also been meaning to make a multi color wreath out of my children’s swimming competition ribbons.  It’s also time I got the recipe for my neighbor’s fruit cake, the only one I’ve ever liked, even without sauce. Fruitcake is one of those things that tastes better as one ages in any case, and it’s been about ten years since I first had it, so I can hardly wait.

Something I worry about is, as I get older, into my mid-fifties and sixties, am I going to start smelling funny and not realize it, along with my house? The young people I teach would surely notice, with their more sensitive noses. It might be a good idea to start wearing scented lotions.

Nothing so strong as what that man in the grocery store the other day was wearing, though. I knew he was nearby, because the sharp, chemical odor of a certain cosmetic ingredient to which I am sensitive started wafting over me from behind while I was scanning the dairy case for coconut yogurt that my daughter had requested for a recipe. I considered telling him, as a stranger, where a colleague or friend might not. I don’t know, do men do that for one another? (“Dude, easy on the perfume next time!”) It was worse than walking down the detergent aisle.

My daughter never did make her recipe, wasn’t even home when I got there. When I tried to put all the ingredients away in the fridge, I found that the load my husband had just brought home from Costco (Lord preserve us from husbands who do the Costco runs!) was piled on top of the previous ingredients and leftovers so that an avalanche threatened. The table and counters were similarly overloaded. I put two items into my car for return the next day (he hadn’t realized we already had them), exhorted him to eat the store-bought broccoli quickly, s it was likely a few weeks old already, and we had a good crop in the garden. One of the ingredients I stashed in the car was tomato soup. I have been pleading with everyone to eat up the bounty that’s been flowing out of the greenhouse and planning to cook and can the extra.

Today in How to Not Starve, I taught a lesson on food waste. We got into a lively discussion during and after the videos showing how 40% of food produced in the U.S. never reaches any table, and much of what does later ends up in the trash. I hope some of the students will work with me to assess our waste at school and try to educate the community toward better habits. Still, one of the points of the video was that our food system depends on that waste to keep the money flowing, and the poor depend on diverted food that would otherwise be wasted (wrong size or shape, past best buy date, etc.) to feed them at low cost through food banks and soup kitchens.

I’ll make the tomato soup tomorrow, with the past due carrots, runt onions, and a little orange juice. It will be good with the romaine that’s sweetening up in the cool night garden.

 

 

 

Cell analogy poem, verse one

The cell membrane is like my skin
which helps to keep my liquids in.
It has some pores, and so do I
Such as valves that open when I cry
and lips that take in food and drink
Much like channel proteins, I think.