The Bug Story

So...I have to tell you the Bug Story.

As you may have guessed, I am an avid gardener.   I just love to nurture along all the little plants that I seed in and the seedlings, as well.   I bought a coleus to use in one of the big black urns on my front step.  However, I had intended to buy two so they would sort of match.  I forgot.  Sometimes, I just get distracted by all the choices at the local nurseries and forget what I was supposed to purchase.

Anyway, I was on eBrandon, in the classified section, when I noticed a local fellow was selling ones similiar to mine for only 50cents a plant or 3/$1.00 which sure beat the $3.00 I had paid for the other one.  Not one to pass on a good deal, I contacted the very nice fellow and later in the evening went over to pick up my new plants.  He had a lovely selection of various colours of coleus and the most amazing collection of hostas.  He gave me a tour of his beautiful and interesting backyard.  It was most impressive and very exciting to see what he had done with it.  As we chatted, he showed me one particular hosta that grew incredibly huge that he had in the front yard.  We talked about the local deer problem and other gardening issues while standing in his immaculate front yard. It was one of the loveliest front yards I had ever seen!

Unfortunately, as we talked the mosquitoes and bugs were starting to present themselves full-force!  I had the misfortune to swallow one and choked and sputtered clumsily, much to my embarrassment.  I finally was able to finish my conversation and head home.  I drove down the street, stopped at the stop sign and turned right onto the larger main road.  There was only a little traffic as it was getting later in the evening.  About a half a block after turning, I realized that something was crawling inside my throat around my epiglottis!   I started to cough and was soon gagging.  This very quickly turned to me starting to feel like puking!  I put my hand in front of my face just as I started to throw up.  As I held the vomit in my hand against my face, I was trying to slow down and pull off the road.  I finally stopped and shut off the van, all the while gagging and continuing to try not to throw up more or drop what was in my hand.  I realized that I couldn't open the door with my left hand and had to struggle to open it with my right-all while still choking back vomit.  I finally got it open and still couldn't get out!  I had my seatbelt to still contend with!  Groan.  By now, I am in full heaving and vomit is starting to come up.  I finally stepped out of my van just as everything decided to spew from me.  I got the door of my van, I got my clothes, and the road all full force! 

After my very ungraceful exit and performance outside the van, I cleaned up the best I could and headed home.  After re-cleaning the van, I walked into the house.  My hubby took one look at my vomit covered outfit and face and asked what happened! I laughed, explained it to him and told him that "The upside is that I got rid of that bug!"

Bread

As you may or may not know, I love making bread.  And, I love sharing the bread I make.  Most people love receiving homemade bread because it is something they would never make for themselves. A lot of my friends can't understand how I can work full-time and cook everything from scratch - well almost everything. 

When I run out of bread I would rather just make a loaf or two than run out and buy it at the store - especially this winter with all the exceptionally cold temperatures. It takes me about 5 minutes to get the bread to the first rise, a couple minutes to knock it down when it is complete and put it in pans for a second rise.  Then it is into the oven for 20 or so minutes. The house smells divine as the bread bakes and warms up the house a wee bit more.  I mess up a bowl, a fork, and a couple bread pans.  A part of me asks - what is so hard about that?  while another part of me completely understands how a person with no bread baking experience could be overwhelmed by it. 

 Recently, there has been a push on for people to eat less gluten, whether they are allergic/sensitive to it or not.  I realize that allergies are serious and that people have issues with regards to the gluten but many who are going gluten free are just jumping on the bandwagon hoping it will improve their lot in life.  These are the individuals  that makes the breadmaker in me sigh.

 

A is for AAArgh!

I am a winter person.  I love winter.  I like it when it is cold cold - even the -40C cold.  My favourite winter temperatures are around -15 to -20C.  The roads are not icy, it is still warm enough that you can do things, and cold enough that you dress for the cold.  

This winter has me discombobulated though.  It got cold cold right off the hop in mid-November and has only recently made it to around -20C at night and sometimes even made it up to 0C during the day.  This warming has only happened in the past week or so though.  The rest of the winter has been uniformly cold with wind chills in the lower -50C range for the most part.  (These temperatures make -20C seem like a nice warm spring day!) 

Now, when it gets down in temperature, heating bills go conversely upwards.  (what's with that anyway?)  As we live in an older 2x4 construction home from the late 60's, the cold drops off the walls and the house just doesn't really get cozy, especially our family room addition.  Just on a hunch (cold feet, cold me) I put a thermometer on the floor.  It was cold - about 12C.  Not pleasant at all. The room temperature was about 16.5C before we put on the gas fireplace, that despite the house temperature being set at 22C.  Sigh.

This year spring is late - we still have a couple to three feet of snow on the ground still.  The roads are still covered in ice and snow except for a few main thoroughfares and it is still snowing today!! My "I love winter" person is slowly becoming an "I am tired of winter" person.  Never thought I would see the day that would happen!

I, once again, have realized that I have not posted anything for a while.  Now it is officially winter, with snow blanketing the ground and temperatures below freezing.

Last time I posted, I had just planted my two gardens, one in town in the back yard and one at a friend's farm just outside of town.  They both proved to be quite productive. Very productive.  Ok.  Exceptionally productive.  Especially the tomatoes.  It was an excellent year for tomatoes - a really excellent year for them.  I thought because it was such a cool spring that it wouldn't be a great year for them so I threw in a few extra tomatoes.  Ok, ok.  I threw in a couple extra dozen tomatoes.  There. I admit it. I goofed. I have never seen so many tomatoes in my life as when they started to ripen.  They were truly wonderful.  Yellow, black, green striped, orange, red, HUGE, small and all tasting like summer.

I grow heritage tomatoes.  I love how many varieties and how flavourful they all are. I think I grew 11 different varieties this year.  I don't think I could go back to growing the hybrid tomatoes...they really don't have the wonderful flavour that the heritage tomatoes have.  I also don't think I have ever canned, stewed, eaten or frozen so many tomatoes before.  Nor have I ever given away so many either.

The biggest surprise I had was with the Sara Black tomatoes.  I get about 3-4 hours of sunlight on my garden in the back yard during the summer as we live in a mature neighbourhood.  The Sara Blacks grow to be a little larger than tennis ball size, in town anyway.  However, given an abundance of sunshine at the farm garden they turned out to be HUGE!  They averaged about 1 to 1 1/2 pounds each and each plant was very prolific! Should I say exceptionally prolific?  I was surprised and delighted!  Then horrified to realize that all the tomatoes that grew tennis ball size were winding up huge and very prolific and I would have to do something with them!

Somehow, I think I will cut back on the number of tomato plants next year.  Over 350 pounds of tomatoes is just way, way too many tomatoes. 

Did I mention that it was a good year for the garden? Dozens of pumpkins, zucchini, hot peppers, massive celery....(truly massive - 3 ft tall and about a foot across! Delicious!) 

As you may or may not know, I love to plant a garden.  There is something so satisfying about bringing in the food that I have produced and cooking with it.  I have always had a garden and had one out of town occasionally as well.  This year my garden has morphed into two gardens once again.  One in town and the other at Aagard Farms - a local CSA and organic farm that rents out garden spaces as well.  Norah Tolmie and Jes Aagard run a lovely organic farm with numerous goats, cats and a large variety of high quality vegetables. You can check them at on their blog at:   http://aagaardfarms.blogspot.ca/

I honestly don't know when Norah finds the time to post anything at all - she is usually swamped with work.  Having a CSA is a huge amount of work and having the goats (and chickens) ups the workload appreciably because she has to milk the goats every evening as well. She also makes soap from the goats milk.  I have yet to try it but it looks good and smells wonderful.  It will be interesting to compare it with the soaps I make. (I used to sell 23 different varieties of soap when my kids were small.  It enabled me to stay home with them and still have a small income coming in.)

I told my husband that I would be calling my little garden plot "The Farm" as it is as close to "owning" a farm as I will ever get. sigh.  That said, I have planted about 36 tomato plants - 11 heritage varieties in all, some banana and German Butterball potatoes, several types of heritage beans like Jacobs cattle, cucumbers, red cabbage (one of which a deer was kind enough to prune down for me), broccoli, cauliflower, sweetie pie and Atlantic giant pumpkins, yellow zucchini, acorn squash, carrots, dill, and other stuff...  Needless to say, I have a double plot.  My in-town garden is smaller with much less variety and much more sheltered.

One of the more important things I forgot to do was to remove the weeds from my farm each time I weeded.  Instead, I left them in the aisleways and being as opportunistic as they are, they all re-rooted themselves within a couple days!!!!  So I created twice as much work for myself because I have to reweed what I already thought I took care of! 

Another thing I forgot is that gardening in the middle of bald-ass prairie is a completely different ball-game from a sheltered, shaded garden with easily accessible water.  Things are so unprotected from the prairie winds that it is difficult to keep the plants hydrated when they are little and cannot create their own shade to protect their roots.  We have had a couple real humdingers of storms lately (with rainfalls up to 70mm) and because my garden is near the top of the small ridge, it gets full force of the wind, rain, hail and whatever else nature throws at it.  However, it also is getting sun from 5ish in the morning right through until 10ish at night and everything is growing great!  I actually have 10 tomatoes already that range in size from peas to actual tomato size tomatoes and my pumpkins are flowering.  This is when gardening gets exciting!  Those first fruit are so wonderful.  Now if only the gophers, deer, and groundsquirrels don't find them I will be off to the races...
 

I'm back!

Hello everyone - sorry I have been off for a bit.  It has a been busy and I had writer's block.  Later, I just got out of the habit of sharing.  sigh.

I am going to try to step back up to the plate and start re-posting again.  I am going to start by posting one of the best bread recipes I have ever come across.  It is also one of easiest.  This is huge praise because I normally never use a recipe for bread, ever.  This one caught my eye for some reason and I just had to try it.  I am glad I did and now I want to share it with you because it is delicious, simple and you really need to try it.

Watch for the recipe and the link on Tuesday.  Take care until then.

Free Peonies!

I sometimes shoot myself in the foot, just because.  A friend recently mentioned he was helping his neighbour pullout their peonies and asked if I wanted some.  I said that I would love some.  Well, he took it took heart and being the generous soul that he is, announced a couple days later that he had brought my peonies for me!  I told him that I would grab them on my way out.  He then informed me that I would need about six or so boxes to put them in.  I stopped dead in my tracks and I had a feeling then that I was in trouble. 

"How many peonies did you bring me?"

"Oh, I got you about fifty or so plants." he quite proudly told me. "They almost filled the back of my truck up - what do you drive?" 

I wasn't sure whether to laugh or groan as his generosity sunk in but he was so pleased with himself and had spent all that time putting them in his truck to bring them to me that I couldn't, in all good conscience, do anything but thank him.

I went home and changed from my work clothes into my gardening clothes, stopped at the liquor store and picked up about eight boxes.  Sure enough, the back of his truck was filled with peonies!  Totally filled with them.  I filled up the boxes, put them in the back of my van, cleaned out the back of his truck and headed home. 

I love gardening and being outside but the I also have allergies.  I discovered on the way home that peonies sent my allergies into overdrive. I had to stop a couple times and get out of my vehicle just to be able to breath!  This, despite the fact that I live only about five minutes away from where I work!! 

The first thing I did when I got home was to head straight to the computer and post "free peonies!" on our local on-line market site.  I am happy to say I now have just the right amount left to plant at the lake!

O is for "O Canada"

"O Canada".  Our national anthem.  It has been much maligned in recent years.  Many young people no longer know the words because they are not expected to sing it every morning at the start of the school day.  Older individuals have become a wee bit confused because it got shortened not too long ago and are stuck on the older version and rather than embarrass themselves singing it incorrectly, they stand quietly.

I like our anthem, especially the original form before they changed the words and shortened it.  We should be proud to stand at attention and, just for a couple minutes each day, take the time to reflect on all of what being a Canadian means.  It is ok, as well, to actually stand at attention, not lean against a desk or stay seated or worse just completely ignore it.  Many Canadians have worked hard to make our country the wonderful place that it is.

Being Canadian is special and "O Canada" is just our reminder to pause and remember.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kRPGPAnPNa8

N is for Night

Night.  A word that conjures up all sorts of images.  The actual word means "the dark period between day to day" in the Concise Oxford dictionary.  Night can be a comfort for many, a time of terror for others, and a wakeful time for the night-owls.

Tonight, I am looking forward to the cocoon of darkness to soothe my weary soul and body.  The darkness will be a comforting time for me.  For many others, who work long hours, the onset of night would be a welcome break from the drudgery of labour.  For new mothers who entertain and chase small children at top speed all day, night cannot come soon enough. 

So many movies and books depict night as a time of terror.  There is a huge tradition of terror stories and films that appeal particularly to teens and young adults, although the rest of the adult population is not exempt from it.  I think there must be a basis in fact for some of it.  It is like a rumour that starts with a wee kernel of truth and grows from there to become a full-fledged thing.  I think that terror can also be a learned fear.  Other times, I just think that terror is the work of an overactive imagination, especially in young children.  Again, adults are not exempt from having an overactive imagination - I know of what I speak on that subject!

When it comes to night-owls, I think that night can be a time of reflection and accomplishment. I am far more productive in the evening and middle of the night than I am during the day.  My best times for doing things is after nine in the evening until about three in the morning.  Some of the wakefulness could be attributed to a primordial need to protect.  After all,  it was at night that danger lurked in the form of tigers, bears and other night prowling beasts. 

Is night your comfort, terror or wakeful time?

M is for Maxims

I am a little behind (to say the least) on my posts -life just seems to interfere with what I want to do. My apologies.

Maxims are defined as "a general rule drawn from science or experience; principle, rule of conduct" in the Oxford English dictionary.  There are a huge multitude of maxims surrounding us, guiding us, and teaching us to live with one another.  Many are Bible based, others come from Chinese proverbs, and others have been passed down for generations.  Maxims are small kernels of human experience generally in one or two short lines.
 How many times growing up have you heard things like - "Nothing ventured, nothing gained"?

Others that you may also have heard could include:

Slow but sure wins the race.
A rolling stone gathers no moss.
More haste; less speed.
The early bird catches the worm.

What other maxims do you know?

L is for Lies

Long on lies

Truth flies.

K is for Kathleen

Kathleen is an Irish name meaning "of heavenly bodies" according to a name book that I have from when my kids were little. Other meanings include pure, chaste and sweet.  It is the name that my parents bestowed on me when I was born.  I have alternately loved it and hated it at the same time.

Why do I love it?  I was named after my Grandmother's neighbour, Kathleen Hill.  She was the most wonderful, sweetest English woman you could ever meet.  I treasured her friendship, as did my Grandmother.  She had a lovely sense of humour, and a gentle way about her but was incredibly intuitive.  I also love the fact that it is Irish and makes me things of fairies and other fey beings.  As a child, I had a hugely overactive imagination and the name suite me to a T.

What did I hate about my name?  The only time, other than at school the first day, I was called Kathleen as a child was when I was in trouble.  I always knew I was in for it when my mother started her sentence with Kathleen.  I literally inwardly cringed, and still do, when people call me Kathleen.  Try as I might to kick this, I cannot, lovely name or not. 

In high school, my friends called me Kat.  I like that.  It was short and to the point. Most everyone calls me Kathy and I like that as well.  Whether I am called Kat, Kathy or Kathleen I am now fine with them all now that I am an adult.

J is for Junk

Junk seems to accumulate no matter what I do to stop it.  I tell myself that I am not to bring anything else home to keep it at a dull roar.  No matter what I do or don't do,  I am surrounded by junk.  Much of it is wound up in memories that, for some reason, are too precious to abandon. It makes me sad, this being tied to objects. 

Grandma's egg cups.

Pottery from Ontario trip and lovely batiks.

Sometimes I go on a cleaning out frenzy and am able to get rid of tons of stuff. Then someone gives me a present and I groan because I know they expect me to display it proudly just because it is from them.  I like getting presents - don't get me wrong.  I like presents that are consumable or I can plant or have a function that is readily apparent.  Decorative items are wonderful but serve no practical purpose other than to be aesthetically pleasing and need dusting.  Sigh.

The pictures I have displayed are what I am talking about. ( I use the word junk only because this is j.)  These items have huge sentimental value to me.  The egg cups were my Grandmother's, the soup tureen is a memory from a friend long deceased, the pottery represents a trip to Stratford for the Shakespearean festival, the batiks a lovely gift from a relative and the topiary is just junk to make things look nice.

I is for Images

I love visual images, whether they are in our imagination or just an image from a picture.  Either way, an image can evoke strong feelings and memories.  Perhaps it is that we just want to personify an image to give us some sense of belonging and make the image fit our headspace at that time.  Sometimes an image can be so strong that you almost physically feel like you are there.  Strange when you think of it. 

Some images look tranquil.

Some are pleasant and pensive.

Some look lonely and deserted.

Some are just are.

Some can feel scary.

H is for home

Home

Home.  The word conjures of thoughts of warm quilts, satisfying foods, family and pets.  It is where we go to recharge and get our thoughts together. 

When my husband and I were first married, we lived in an extremely old trailer for a very brief period of time.  The only thing good about it was the view and my husband. Truly.  It leaked, it was smelly and should have been destroyed years before but the rent the was so cheap and it enabled us to purchase our first home shortly after.  (Thank goodness!)

Our first (officially ours) home was a three bedroom bungalow that was so dirty that the off-white carpet in the master bedroom was gray and it took three of us an entire morning to clean out the laundry room because they had been venting it inside the house without a filter.  Despite all that, we gave a it a nice coat of paint, cleaned up the yard and it turned out to be a lovely little bungalow for the year that we were in it.  I rather like that house.  We had great neighbours and it was just nice.  When we sold it, made a little bit on it that helped us to buy our next home, where we lived for over fourteen years.

I loved my second house but as our children grew older we realized that it was pretty tight quarters.  When we would open our closet doors in the master bedroom, we had to climb over the bed to get to the other side of the room.  The two girls rooms were not much better for space.  Our yard had been bald-ass prairie when we moved in and by the time we sold it, it was like a beautiful park.  I swear that was why the next couple that lived there purchased it.  They got married in the back yard shortly after they moved in.  We made a bit on it when we sold and purchased a lovely sixties-style two-story that we absolutely love.  Sure it needs newer flooring and some updating but it has been a wonderful home to live in.  We have a gorgeous yard and mature trees.  Our neighbours are the nicest people you could ever meet. It has been a great home to have raised the girls in.

Now the girls are gone to their own homes. We are possibly looking at something a bit smaller again and thinking of a somewhat rural area with a couple acres.  It is going to have to be pretty gorgeous for us to consider moving though.  Our home is very much home to us and it will take a pretty special place to even think of moving.

G is for Geraniums

I admit that, like Dorothy Livesay, I am a sucker for geraniums.  A couple days ago Canadian Tire had their seed geraniums on for 69 cents each.  They are small - about 3 inches tall with secondary and tertiary leaves on all of them and they look quite nice.  I, needless to say, bought a flat of 32.  It seemed like such a great idea when I first bought them but now I realize that I have to transplant all the little dears into larger pots if they are going to be any significant size by planting time. Good thing I like planting even if space is an issue.

That said, I just finished transplanting a couple flats of tomatoes and a couple of Genovese basil into larger pots and containers.  I get kind of like a kid in a candy shop when it comes to planting - it feels like I really haven't  planted much until it is time to plant and I have WAY, WAY too many tomato plants and other plants.  It is not as if I live on an acreage or have a huge garden - I just like planting and kind of get on a roll.  sigh.

F is for From a Trance

She sat staring vacantly into space.  Time had no relevance, no substance.  It came and went unnoticed by her till finally the cold crept into her bones and she could ignore it no longer.  Slowly, stiffly, she tried to stand and found that her muscles screamed in protest.  With a sigh, she hobbled forward until she came to the washroom.  Entering slowly, she looked at the mirror wondering who that ancient woman was that stared at her from its depths.  Grabbing the soap, turning it over in her right hand as if it was an unidentifiable object, she turned the hot tap on with her left hand and stood there, just stood there waiting.  As the water heated up, she shoved the bar of soap into the running water and as the soap became wet the scent of lemons and lavender enveloped her. 

As if from a trance, she suddenly realized that it was time.

E is for Elocution and Education

The iris symbolizes wisdom. These are a miniature 6" irises from my garden.

The Oxford dictionary defines elocution as a noun meaning "art of expressive speech".  I just love that word! How many times have you stood before a group, not necessarily a large group, floundering and wondering what on earth happened?  Then there are those who can stand up and speak so well expressing their thoughts (and it seems like the thoughts of others) so well?

Many eons ago, I used to debate during my high school years at a competition level.  Me! Truly!  Now, I am lucky if I can stand up and acknowledge that I exist.  I think when I was younger it didn't occur to me that I was supposed to be nervous at these competitions.  I just figured it was a lark and that I could argue in a civilized manner without getting in trouble with my parents.  Even when I competed with my partner, at a provincial level, it was no big deal.  Today, I realize that it was a really big deal and I am still in awe that I could get up in front of judges, competitors and the public to speak, rebut and actually enjoy it.  I think the harshest criticism I got from a judge was that I really didn't have to push my facts down my opponents throats.  I was absolutely shocked because I thought that slaughtering my opponent in a civilized manner was what I was supposed to do.  Other judges would back me on it but it made me think.

My father was very proud of my accomplishments and encouraged me to keep going with my education.  I remember one quiet Sunday afternoon when my mom was out and I was commenting on how one of my teachers was not the best at what she did.  His comment was that learning came in many forms and to just hang in there.  I still remember him saying very passionately that "People can take a lot of things away from you but they can never take away your education!"  You know, he was so right because you will always know what you know.

D is for Damn!

Baby picture or rather, puppy picture!

Why damn?  Damn - I can't think of anything but my dog for D and much as I love her I didn't feel like writing about her.  Yes, she is cute and fuzzy in the winter but she is still a cliche for D.  I did write a piece about death but felt that although it was interesting it was too heavy for A to Z.  So, yeah, DAMN! I wish I could think of something more in the D's to write about!

Kiwi with her winter coat.

C is for City of Brandon

I have the privilege of living in one of the best small cities in Canada.  In fact, we are rated the 6th best small city in the country.  What do we have to offer?  We have a city that is filled with trees and beautiful plantings in the summer.  We have three shopping areas that offer everything from boutiques to chains.  We have a river running through, multiple golf courses within an easy drive, a diverse population, beautiful library and art galleries, a university and a college, just to name a few of our assets.  I think what I like the best about Brandon is that, despite it's size, it still has a small town feel and a huge volunteer heart that gives generously.