Munchausen the Gardener

I am terrible- TERRIBLE- at knowing when to keep our kids home from school.

On the mornings when they're lethargic and kind of puny, I send them anyway, because we all have mornings like that, right?  It doesn't mean we're sick... except for all the times I get a call from the school nurse telling me a kid has a temp of 102.1/ is pale and droopy and complaining of an excruciating headache/ has vomited all over the library (all calls I've received just this school year).

When I do keep them home, though, because they weren't doing well the evening before?  They run around like a prisoner who has received a last-minute pardon (which is kind of what they are, I guess), no fever, no lethargy, no pain.  It's like some kind of miracle!  [Heavy, somewhat bitter sarcasm.]

Such was the case Wednesday morning.  Atticus has been fighting a cold, and that coupled with night after sleepless night made me decide to keep him home so that he could sleep in, because that makes sense, right?  He'd get the extra sleep he needed, and a little extra rest to help his ailing body fight this cold.

Except he didn't sleep in.  He got up ten minutes after the time I usually have to drag him out of bed, and was up to joyously wave his sister out the door to the bus.  Forget "Man plans, God laughs;" around here it's "Mom plans, children cackle viciously."

Still, because Atticus loves to help and he obviously wasn't as sick as I'd been led to believe, he got to spend a glamorous morning learning how to properly scrub toilets, clean his own mattress, and plant egg carton seeds.  Believe it or not, he appeared to enjoy all activities equally, although he was a little concerned when he found out that I put one of my favorite cleaning agents in his food regularly (baking soda, so just calm down, DHS).  I tried to explain how I use it in different ways and keep it in different containers depending on where I use it in the house, but he remains unconvinced that I'm not perpetrating a terrible crime against our family.  I think the next time he questions me on it, I'll just shrug and tell him, "Have it your way, bud, but that means no more cookies- I use baking soda in 99% of my cookie recipes."  There's no chance this could backfire like all my other plans.  [Heavy, somewhat bitter sarcasm.]

Somehow I didn't get a picture of the scrubbing or the cleaning, but I did get one of the planting.

What's in our cartons this spring?

Long Island Cheese squash, apparently named (according to the back of the packet) because they look like a wheel of cheese.  I love Seed Savers Exchange, as they're dedicated to preserving heirloom varieties of plant species.  In a perfect world, I would only buy my seeds from SSE, but as I am a deeply flawed human being, that never happens.  I also tell my children, "NoOooOoo, there aren't any sweets hidden in special, precious pockets of this house!"

The sinful, mass-produced seeds that we planted were

because how the heck am I supposed to resist a squash bearing the name "Turks Turban"?  (Although I keep questioning whether or not there should be an apostrophe somewhere in that name, and where.)  Also some sunflower seeds from last year, because I always have a couple different varieties of sunflower seeds tucked away, and then some pumpkin seeds that allowed me to feel extremely superior, having harvested and dried them myself.  

And now, because I'm too lazy to find a way to tie the end of this post up with a bow, here is a picture of Caedmon I took mere minutes ago.

Pretty sure we were talking about superheroes, as that is his superhero stance.  This hero's genesis story would no doubt talk about the tragic loss of first his parents, and then his neck.

Beauty Upwards, Beauty Downwards

As an introvert, I am apparently supposed to loathe small talk.  The problem with this is, of course, weather.

I love to talk about the weather.  Everyone else is evidently annoyed by this, at least according to the internet.  But... but why?  Why wouldn't you want to talk about the weather?  It's so wonderful and weathery, and, get this, it changes every day!

Now, it's possible that I'm just easily amused (um, more than possible- let's call it probable), but I think much of the problem is that all these people who say weather conversations are pointless and not deep enough are hopeless navel-gazers who need to get over themselves.  As a blogger who also sports a psych degree, I don't say that lightly; navel-gazing and overthinking all manner of trivialities is kind of my thing.

It's also possible that these anti-weather people just need to get outside.  You know who does like to talk about the weather?  Derek, thank goodness.  We live by the hourly forecast, because it dictates when golf (him) or a run (me) is going to happen.  Other important people who will talk to excess about the weather:  Gardeners (me), farmers (not me, but who doesn't want to spend some time talking to their favorite farmer?  Time to brush up on your weather lingo, weather-chat-haters), and small children.  This means that, between the five of us, we spend a lot of time talking about The Weather in our house.

As a weather-loving person, this time of year is fantastic.

The skies after piano lessons yesterday, complete with beautiful, beautiful thunder and lightning.

Yes!  It's STORM SEASON!

Now, the good thing about living in Iowa during storm season is you get ominous, brooding skies like that one up there, and the one below.

This pic was taken maybe a minute after the previous one; one was the sky to the north, the other was the west.  (Raise your hand if you're SO IMPRESSED that I know which direction I was traveling?!) I love that beam of light on the left; either Scotty is working desperately to beam someone up, or God has had enough and is like, "Stop being such a jerk, Bill.  Yes, I'm talking to you; is this shaft of heavenly light not enough to clue you in?  Why are so many of my children such morons?"

Meanwhile, in Kansas, there were tornadoes circling hither and yon, because the severe weather in Kansas is significantly more, well, severe.  You never know when you're going to show up at school only to find that Noah's house was destroyed in a tornado, or when you're going to get a call saying the same thing happened to your sister.  I'm not saying you need to avoid Kansas, but maybe don't plan a cross-state trip during the month of April, unless you have not only gas stations but also storm shelters marked on your map.  

When I haven't been gazing in a no-doubt extremely flattering stupor at the sky,  I've been staring at the ground in appreciation and wonder.  Either way, the neighbors think I'm bananas.

This hyacinth is in my very favorite purply-blue color.  Hang on, isn't purple-blue the very definition of the color indigo?  But I thought indigo was darker.  Someone more color-oriented help me with this.  Anyway, if flowers weren't enough, tomorrow I have plans.  Big plans.  GRAND plans.

Squeeeeeee!

Drop Dead Red Sunflowers

Let's take a break from the book reviews and talk about gardening instead, even if I do see nothing but grey and white and brown when I look out our window.


I went to Earl May yesterday to buy carrot seeds (and only carrot seeds).  Just something to get me through to a time when we supposedly won't be surrounded by miles upon miles of snow and ice and freezing cold temperatures.  Something very mysterious happened while I was in the store and I left with not just carrot seeds but also a couple different kind of seeds for gourds and some for ornamental eggplant and flowering kale and I don't even remember what else.  The real miracle is that I only bought one packet of flower seeds:

I'm a sucker for beautiful flower illustrations anytime, but this one is just gorgeous in person.  You know it's a fancy packet of seeds when they credit the illustrator on the back of the packet (Carolyn Crawford, fyi), and the packet itself is at least twice the size of most others.  

I can already tell it will be beyond my ability to simply throw this packet away once I've planted its seeds (by the bye, Derek, that is not an invitation to "help" me toss it, but thanks anyway), but I'm not sure what to do with it.  Simply find a small frame for it and frame the whole thing?  I really don't want to cut it up... I don't think.  I do, however, know exactly where I to plant these sunflower seeds:  in a flower bed in our front yard that has, by some miracle, remained relatively untouched by me thus far, despite the fact that it's one of the few beds in our yard fortunate enough to enjoy full sun.  It's basically just a big rectangular drift of yellow irises that have been there for who knows how long, which means it's beautiful for the few weeks in spring the irises are in bloom, but pretty blah the rest of the year.  I spent approximately four thousand hours (or just four, which is pretty much the same thing) one day last summer dividing them and adding several other colors of iris plants from my grandparents.  Even with a little variety in color, iris-wise, the bed very obviously needs to be more useful and interesting in the summer and fall, so the plan is to sow the majority of these Drop Dead Red sunflower seeds in that bed amongst the iris rizomes.  This bed is also located just under a large window in our living room, and my hope is that they'll be tall enough to be visible from inside the house.  Well, my biggest hope is that the actual flowers will be as stunning as both the illustration and the text on the packet promise.  

Went to the plant nursery for something useful, came out with a handful of seed packets for flowers and numerous other (relatively) useless ornamental plants.  Sounds about right!