Chicken Envy

Due at least in part to my move to a semi-rural area I think I’m beginning to go native.  I drive a giant tractor and run deliveries in a small dump truck.  I subscribed to Mother Earth Magazine.  I finally own a sweet touring kayak and if it would ever stop freaking raining the put-in is only five minutes from my house.

I have bold intentions for four raised garden beds in my front yard.  Given that I have access to a tractor I thought, hey, why not regrade the front yard and start from scratch with a nice flat surface?  This is more difficult to do than I expected.  I really only managed to smash the big clumps of grass flat and scrape a big pile of crap onto the driveway.

“I like what you’ve done with the yard,” says Matt.

It may not be pretty, but those garden beds are happening.  Fennel, basil, wax beans, pole beans, red currant tomatoes, chives, kale, cucumbers, and maybe if I’m very, very lucky even a hybrid watermelon or two.  I have a huge deck that is begging for extra plants and herbs in planter boxes.  That’s my planned stage two.  And then there’s this awesome outdoor grill/oven/griddle that I have the schematics for but probably won’t build until I have a little more permanency, or a lot of time and building materials on my hands.

Which brings me to my chicken envy.  Julia, I covet your chickens.  Even though stock is a huge time and care commitment.  And I can just buy eggs at the grocery store.  And I’m not sure I could ever bring myself to personally off a chicken in the name of dinner.  I’ve no plans on turning chicken thief in the night, but I thought I’d own up to something I feel secretly competitive about.  Not that it’s a race or anything…

Soon (hopefully) the cold rain will be on it’s way out to make room for some serious springtime.  What mischief are you up to this weekend?

Gauging a Problem

I have what you might call a “gauge problem”.  This is a tendency to not swatch like any novice would and blindly trust that the hat (because these are the patterns that always bite me) will turn out to be the perfect size for any head that it perches on.  Unfortunately, yarn, needles and good intentions do not work that way.  I knit my sister a beautiful and cuddly version of the cabled newsboy cap from Stich and Bitch Nation sans brim, but somehow managed to mangle it such that it’s almost twice as big as it really should be.  Sigh.  Frog and repeat, I suppose.  She’s been enjoying wearing it around in the interim and gleefully calling herself a melonhead. 

This is my Achilles’ heel with hats, this size issue.  I’ve also struck out with the too small conundrum with this pattern from www.knitty.com, attempting a hat for my man.  I finished it and tried to jam it onto his head with the little ear flaps sticking up like wings on top and an expression of serious doubt on his face.  There was no saving it, it had to be remade.  In my defense, the second try was much better.

If you’ve ever heard the argument of the tight knitter vs. the loose knitter it has some relevance here.  My problem is that I’m a tight knitter at heart who has gradually reformed herself into deliberately loosening up.  Clearly I’m still working out the kinks in acceptance.  We’ll just pretend that this metaphor doesn’t carry over to other aspects of my life.  Ha.

In baby plant news, of all the starters that I’ve seeded only the tomatoes are coming up so far, which I find hilarious.  The plan for mass planting holds and I’ve got to get out to my garden plot to dig up the last 175 of the 200 square feet available to me.  Tick, tick, tick.  It’s mid-May and I feel like I’m running out of time.  Shovel on the shoulder and rear in gear, stat.  After that I’ve got some very important hat surgery to do.

Reasons to Love PDX

It might be that last weekend of gorgeous weather, but I’m really loving on Portland right now.  Things going on unique to place and time that I’m thrilled with, in no particular order:

Community Gardens — Pay the Parks Dept. a nominal fee and you get 400 square feet to dig up and plant as you see fit.  I’m thinking snow peas, broccoli, carrots, cauliflower, onions, chives, basil, red currant tomatoes maybe even some melons.  The plan is to plant as many different kinds as possible and see what survives my tender loving care.  Stick with what you’re good at, right?

Territorial Seed Company — Kick ass font of all things seed and plant related for your garden. 

Sustainability — Part buzz word, part marketing campaign, part legitimate social relevance.  Since being less wasteful and more efficient is always a good thing.

Vegetable Christmas — Once every other week Santa Cauliflower comes to my door and leaves a box full of delicious vegetable and fruit goodies from sources as local to the metro as possible.  It changes every week.  I plan on leaving out milk and cookies for the delivery sleigh next time.

I’m hoping this will spark an answering homage to the Twin Cities from my co-author.

I could go on and on.  And on.  But that will serve for now.  I’m feeling the nesting/growing instinct coming on with a vengeance this year and I’m apparently powerless to resist.  Still renting with no end in sight, so I’m trying to channel the energy in productive ways that don’t involve owning a house.  I may even sweep.

Affection for my home city and the fine spring weather is also making me itch to get some important things done:

• Locate and buy a refurbished vacuum.  Vacuuming two floors without a carpet brush in a house with a German Shepherd is just stupid.
• Transform lumber pile and 24′ of greenhouse film into a mini starter greenhouse for the backyard.  Soon.  Make that ASAP.
• Purge my trashy romance/fantasy book horde.  To make room for new ones, of course.
• Begin 500 book sustainability/business theory reading list.
• Go for a ride on the beach with my dad in his new old Jeep.
• Cut JUNK collection by at least 50%.
• Start compiling my favorite recipes for all my summer produce.
• Load my little Shuffle for optimal gardening entertainment.
• Finish my sister’s lovely and very soft cabled cap.
• Re-hang the hammock and take a nap in the sunshine at my earliest possible convenience.

So far, so good.  I may even accomplish most of the above by the end of the summer.