Vibes

We picked up a new car today, rather an additional used car. For me, not my sons. That makes four: Jeep Wrangler, Suburban, Ford pick-up and the new car. See a pattern? I live in an all-male household, males who like trucks and truck-like vehicles. Four wheel drive is an essential. Poor gas mileage is another constant.

So I figured out that I can pay for my new car with improved gas mileage, as it gets more than twice the gas mileage of the Suburban. Assuming gas remains about $2.30, I will save at least $1.15 for every mile I drive and the new car will be paid for in 10,000 miles, which won't take long for me. UPDATE: 10,000 miles? Did I type miles? I mean 10,000 gallons. I should break-even between 25,000 and 30,000 miles.

It's not a Buick LeSabre, but it's definitely not cool. It's a Pontiac Vibe and it is orange.

School Closings

School was closed two days due to snow last week.

The first day was idyllic. We were snug, warm and well-fed. Everyone pitched in willingly to clean the house after we put on some rocking music. It sparkled. We baked a Valentine's cake and played board games.

The second day was the polar (haha) opposite. Snow needed to be shoveled and driveways plowed. Teenage siblings snapped, complained and were generally teenagers. The sparkling house became less so as they tracked in and out.

The third morning, there was a school delay. Ron came into the computer room and told me they just announced a closing. My response was kind of a guttural groan, or perhaps a shriek. Anyway, it was purely emotional. I was so looking forward to having the house to myself again. Ron laughed and laughed because he was just kidding. He laughed about my reaction for several days.

School is closed again today due to heavy fog and icy roads. And the power went out for about an hour. The temperature in the house dropped 8 degrees in the hour. We have a generator to run the cornburner and a kerosene heater, but Steve had already left and I wasn't cold enough to have the confidence to set them up. I'm starting to thaw out again. At least enough for my typing fingers to work.

Maple Syrup Time

Tapping commenced this week. I'm volunteering at Yoder's Sugar Bush Camp this spring. I will demonstrate to numerous school children how to tap a tree. That should be interesting because I have never, you know, actually tapped a tree. But I've read about it and I saw it done. Does that count? Training was last week and I will spend tomorrow and Friday with school groups and then about once a week thereafter.

I love this picture of the girl drinking sap straight from the tree.

Soil

I have a love affair with soil. Sure, the blooms entice me into the garden and the foliage seduces me to remain there, but neither compare to the sensuousness of soil, especially early spring soil. The pungency. The sensations as I crumble it in my hands. The dark color.

Last summer, my husband and a community service worker built a three-bin compost site at the historic garden: one very large bin to hold the new stuff and two smaller bins to turn the compost as it ages. I can't wait to get my hands on the finished compost this spring to mulch the beds. Plus we will be using the compost bins to explain soil and composting to the school children when they visit on field trips.

So I am sorry I did not have a chance to read January's book selection for the Garden Bloggers Book Club, Teaming with Microbes: A Gardeners Guide to the Soil Food Web by Jeff Lowenfels and Wayne Lewis. Read the bloggers' comments here. This is definitely on my to-read list.

More: I meant to mention that the Renegade Gardener listed this book as his Top Pick this month. Also I want to attend this public conference at Merry Lea Environmental Center September 28-30.

Sacred Soil: Reclaiming the Source of Our Food

Each fall, Merry Lea holds a conference for people of faith who share a passion for the care of creation. Participants spend much of their time outside, exploring a theme that enables us to experience renewal and hope through an in-depth look at the way ecosystems function. This year's theme, Sacred Soil, will explore the truth about food. For many of us, even those of us who “know better,” food comes from the grocery store. It is a cheap commodity, manufactured by a corporation and produced in a factory like Happy Meal toys or rubber boots. In reality, food comes from the earth; it is grown in the soil and depends on the health of the soil. Soil is sacred because our lives depend on it, and because it was created by God. The registration fee of $75 includes six meals. Lodging available for $15/night upon request.

Weak in the knees

Sunday afternoon, we are alone, deep in the woods, next to the river, far from civilization. He turns to me and gives me a look. My legs go limp. I need something to keep me from crumpling at his feet. From his look, I know he is feeling the same way. As one person, we turn our gaze eastward.

Steve still has that effect on me, but this is not a Valentine's post. We had just spent an arduous afternoon cross-country skiing. I used my ski poles to hold myself up and we were looking at the car parked half a mile across the field.

Environmentally Sustainable Village

At the annual Master Gardener's banquet (I'm now a bronze level advanced Master Gardener), Dr. Luke Gascho from Merry Lea Environmental Center spoke about the recently completed Reith Village, a sustainable environmental and energy sufficient group of buildings. Phase one of the village includes three cottages and a classroom for students to study for their Masters in Environmental Education. Merry Lea is run jointly by Goshen College and the Nature Conservancy.

Reith Village was designed to meet the Platinum Standards by LEEDS. It hasn't been officially graded yet, but in two trial grades, it ranked platinum.

I found the presentation fascinating and it gave me some ideas for when (or if) we build at the Highlands, our tree farm. Follow the links if you are interested, but here are the highlights from the talk for me:

• A microwatershed contains all the drainage on the site, through the use of a 15,000 gallon cistern.
• The nonpotable water is pumped into the buildings to flush the toilets.
• They have an on site sewage system using a wetlands cell biofilter and a recirculating sand filter.
  
• The drive and parking lot are recycled concrete with grass overplanted to encourage drainage. The sidewalks are made of permeable concrete for natural drainage.
• The wind generator has a long payback period, 17 years, but it has an expected life span of 35 years.
  
• Local tulip poplar was used for siding and interior work
• 75% of construction debris diverted from landfills. (See the photo where they are spreading chipped-up leftover drywall on the lawn.)
• Roofline skylights open to let out heat in the summer to reduce cooling costs.
  

The presentation was much better than the website. I notice there is a tour this spring. I think I'll try to go. After all, my in-laws' farm borders part of Merry Lea's land.

Seeds to Syrup

I'm a little slow placing my seed order this year. I made a list of what I want to order and all I have to do is find them in the seed catalogues. Last year, I discovered Select Seeds and I found quite a few of the plants I want to grow in their catalog so far. This is such a pleasurable thing to do, what is taking me so long?

Tomorrow we are planning to go cross-country skiing for the first time since there will be a heat wave. It's reaching 21 degrees! Monday I'm being trained as a volunteer for Sugar Bush, a unique maple syrup program for school children. Then I need to wrap up my freelance project.

Colts Shirts

The excitment was reaching a feverish pitch last Sunday as the boys prepared to go to their respective Super Bowl parties. Having a Colts hat was not enough and I didn't have the supplies to paint their bodies, so they begged me at the last hour to go shopping to buy jerseys. Being a mean mommy, I said no. Then Ron had the idea of printing out pictures and pinning them to their clothes. I mentioned that you can buy computer transfer paper and create your own iron-on decals for shirts. So a quick run to Office Depot and we were in business.

I stood back and watched them in amazement. They haven't been interested in "crafts" for many years but they enjoyed this. I was also amazed at how quickly Ron picked up Photoshop: Layers, check. Image adjustment, check. Lasso tool, check. Text boxes, check. They created three t-shirts, one for each of them plus one as a gift for their host.

Tell me, what is the secret with teenagers? Why do they roll their eyes one day at such an activity and then feverishly engage in it another day?

Vision

While winter is not my favorite season, it is when I see the garden most clearly. Both as it is, its structure or bones, and as it will be, with the help of my large seed order. Sometimes there are surprises, such as

a bird's nest in the Japanese maple.

Ron received the call from his recruiter. He did not pass the physical due to severe flat feet. He choked back sobs as he told me of the call, the loss of his heart's desire. He is entering a winter season but he cannot see clearly yet. I resist feeding him my truths, truths I learned the hard way. I must allow him to feel these emotions, but soon I will point out the other paths that are waiting for him and perhaps he will look up and see something special

like an oriole's nest 80 feet up in the wild cherry.

Teaching responses

This morning I got my hair cut and restyled and somehow my gray hair disappeared also. I then exchanged a pair of slacks I bought my husband at a department store. While I was there, I got a phone call from my friend rescheduling our coffee date. So when I was asked if I wanted a makeover, the saleswomen seemed shocked when I said yes. I needed to buy new lipstick anyway and, with my new hairdo, it seemed the right thing to do. I found a lipstick and liner that I liked, so the time was well spent.

When my son saw me after school, he gasped in horror. My husband counseled him to remain noncommittal until you determine if the woman was pleased with the new hairstyle, makeup, clothes. She did go a little overboard on the eye makeup. What was "natural" to the makeup queen was shocking to my son (and to me.) I just scrubbed and lotioned (is that a verb?) my face and feel so much fresher.

Sports Frenzy

If you drove several hours south of my home, you would be in Indianapolis and several hours northwest lands you in Chicago. As you might guess, this town is divided between the Bears and the Colts. In fact, the Colts' coach suggested that the Super Bowl be held in Fort Wayne.

But the only division in our home is between the children and the parents. The parents don't care about sports (unless their child is playing) and the sons are avid fans of most sports. And their loyalty has been with the Colts for several years.

When Ricky came home from watching Sunday's playoffs with some friends, he was still frenetic. He ripped open his coat to show me his T-shirt. It was a white T-shirt that he had decorated with permanent marker, showing his support for the Colts. And it was totally ripped to shreds as part of the post-game celebration. (He refused to let me take a photo but did ask that I put the shirt in his memento box.)

Update on Ron's enlistment: He didn't pass his physical in December because of severe flat feet. He appealed and he had x-rays taken by the National Guard in early January. He didn't pass again. So they put in another appeal. We are now waiting. He has decided now to become a welder because "they start at $80,000 a year." Ah, reality will hit someday, Son.

MLK musings

I was struck by the truth of this and this post about how far we have come. The changes are slow and difficult to notice day-to-day, similar to the growth of your children and the sudden awareness that you are having an adult conversation with your teenager. Sure, we have much room for improvement, but we have come so very far.

I recall my mother telling me about entering an elevator in a local department store (Patterson Fletcher) in the early 50s. The black elevator operator told a black woman she had to get off the elevator because a white woman entered. Mom said it was OK, but the operator insisted, probably for fear of her job. Mom just nodded, got off the elevator along with the black woman, and walked up the stairs. What a woman!

I grew up in a segrated northern rural community, but we went into the city several times a month. I clearly remember waiting at a cross walk and noticing a dark hand at my eye level. I was three, perhaps four years old. I reached up and rubbed the hand. A woman laughed gently and, in a kind voice, said, "Chil' that don't rub off." That was my realization that people had different skin colors.

My parents "integrated" the small country church we attended. The men sat on the right and the women sat on the left. The first time my parents, newly wed after a long separation during WWII, entered the church, they glanced around, looked at each other, marched to the front of the church and sat together. No convention was going to separate them. The next Sunday, more young couples sat together and soon the separation of sexes was eliminated without any discussion. (And Dad sat on the women's side with his beautiful wife and infant daughter.)

National Guard Appeal

As I posted here and here, one son is trying to join the National Guard, but he has severe flat feet and they rejected him in December. He is in Indianapolis again today having his feet x-rayed as part of the appeal process. I have such mixed emotions. This is his heart's desire and he will be crushed and directionless if turned down. So if he comes home inducted, I'll cry, and if he comes home rejected, I'll cry. Either way, he doesn't need to see my tears, so my plan is to be strong and upbeat to encourage him.

Seventeen

We wrapped up 2006 and unwrapped 2007 since I last posted.

Our Christmas celebration was steeped in family traditions. While we no longer play with Hot Wheels, other traditions have emerged. A large family dinner with my family complete with a white elephant exchange. Buying a gift from our church's giving tree (tricycle to Ukraine this year). Communion and candlelight service late Christmas Eve. Stockings before breakfast. A china and crystal breakfast. Open gifts. Gather with hubby's family.

This year was a clothes (and a few electronics) year for the boys. Ricky strutted around in his letter jacket and Ron has worn his Komet Hockey jersey to about three games already. Ricky started reminiscing about gifts from the past, which pleased me greatly. When they were 9 years old, we sent them on a 3-county scavenger hunt for their own solo canoes. That was fun.

New chairs! Dining room chairs! To be delivered in about a month. The few wobbly chairs left from the set I bought in 1972 are almost beyond repair and certainly aren't holding up to the ploppy rocky actions of teenagers. We will refinish the table and I'm eyeing the walls and curtains for a makeover.

We brought in the New Year at home, perfect for Steve and I. Ron went to a sold-out hockey game with a friend and then stayed overnight. Ricky had talked about going to a party all week and that fell through, plus his ski trip was cancelled because of lack of snow. Oh, how hard it was to experience the extreme disappointment of a 17 year old at home with his family when he longed to be with friends. He spent the night working on his MySpace page and managing his playlists. It reminded me of a male version of the old Janis Ian song, Seventeen. It's easy to forget how deeply emotions are felt at that age.

It isn't all it seems
At seventeen

Hell Semester Under Our Belts

We survived the semester. Steve took 18 hours, including two non-credit labs. Most of the burden fell on him, but it rippled over to the family as he was not as available for parenting tasks and household chores. And with three properties, there are a lot of chores. The best news? He got A's in all of the classes.

Christmas bulbs

Despite a To Do list that has every moment filled, I have to find time to plant 2,700 spring bulbs. That's right, thousands of little bulbs. Someone at church gave them to me Monday evening, surplus from a promotional giveaway. One man and I managed to plant about a thousand bulbs yesterday at church until it got too dark and cold to work any longer. Yes, I dug a little trench and dumped them in. Who knows what it will look like in the spring. I brought home about 500 bulbs to plant today (when???) and the rest are in the foyer at church. Perhaps I will give them away as party favors on Satuday. They are in cute little boxes already.

December's Garden Book

This month's book is My Favorite Plant edited by Jamaica Kincaid. Carol has given us the option of just posting our favorite flower. Perhaps I need to read the book for inspiration, because my favorite plant changes frequently. I'm indiscriminate, a promiscuous plant person. So here are some of my phases.

My garden is filled with remnants from my iris phase. I started with bearded irises, a demanding mistress. To remain vigorous, they need divided too often. The bloom period was short and the blooms were almost too showy. I lost interest in these demanding floozies, when I planted their well-behaved, refined cousin with attractive foliage, the Siberian iris. I have very tall dark purple, Butter & Sugar (yellow and white) and Steve (light blue). I then added a mix of Japanese iris and finally wild iris (blue flags and yellow flags) around the pond. These iris still give me great pleasure, but I can no longer label them "My Favorite Plant."

Siberian IrisesBlue Flag

Another phase was old roses. It started with transplanting Harison's Gold from an abandoned farmstead. You can tell from the picture of the yellow roses that it thrived in my garden. Then I ordered several old roses, charmed by their history: Empress Josephine, Apothecary and several others whose names I have lost. Moving on, I then planted about five types of David Austin roses, striving for the fragrance and form of the old roses but with repeat blooms. The last roses I planted were blushing Knock-Outs, not an old rose but still a nice addition to the garden.

Harison's Gold

Empress JosephineBlushing Knock Out

When I first moved here, my favorite plants were wildflowers, thanks to my meadow and woods. These are still some of my favorite flowers. I'm amazed at the color combinations and the health of these plants.

Black-Eyed Susans and Asclepias tuberosaCommon Milkweed - look at the intricate detail and they are so fragrant

Volunteer Cattails and Joe-Pye Weed

Jack in the Pulpit

I'm just finishing a container phase. I enjoy designing these "mini-gardens" because it was easy to experiment with plant combinations and colors. And then you combine the containers for a larger display. Next year I will still have some containers, but with 3 acres to plant and the watering demands of containers, I think I will scale back.

Created for Master Gardener talk

Over the years, I've flirted with dianthus and still have three species and several cultivars in the garden. I'm still in love with Lady's Mantle. The foliage is so attractive and the chartreuse flowers fill in bouquets so nicely. Another favorite is columbine. And I could go on and on!

Dianthus "Essex Witch"

Lady's Mantle

I'm in the middle of a sedum phase. Do you know how many sedums there are and how different they look? The blooms are unusual, usually red (from light pink to almost black) or yellow. The foliage is attractive from early spring to late fall, with a wide variation in color (light and dark green, red, dark purple) and form (trailers to upright). Planted together, they form a tapestry of color and shape. Perhaps I will get a picture of these next summer.

I'm just entering a tricyrtis or toad lily phase. I have three varieties and and longing for more as I peruse the garden catalogues.
So with this long post, I think I have sufficiently supported my thesis: I am too fickle to have a favorite plant. This reminds me of a Robert Louis Stevenson poem I learned in my youth, which I have found to be true these many years (and I added another year today...Happy Birthday Earth Girl).

The world is so full of a number of things,
I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.

Not a good thing

This is not a good thing. We had heavy rains, then a deep freeze (17 degrees) and then a warming (41 degrees). The result: frost heaving in November despite the leaf mulch.

Name that dame

Here's your daily Martha dose, Renee, and thanks for the comment on my last post as it nudged me into action. Carol wondered if I had a name and so I do. It's Martha.

No, I wasn't named after a maiden great aunt, but because my father thought it was a beautiful name. My sister and three brothers were all named after someone in the family. As a child, this bothered me; I was sure I was a changeling. I tried to transform myself into a Marty in Junior High School, but I was a Martha.

The name was dropping in popularity about the time I was born, but was a very popular name when my father was young. (The link won't display the results of the name. You have to type it in so the Java app can run.) I even asked him once if he had a girlfriend with that name. He denied it, but I suspect there was a positive association at some time with the name.

The origin of my name is Aramaic, the language Jesus spoke and it means lady. One of my favorite Bible verses is John 11:5: Jesus loved Martha. Why is it past tense though?

Additional thought: At least my pet name isn't Quack Quack.

NaBloPoMo

How did I do with the National Blog Posting Month experiment? I made 29 posts in November, which does not mean I only missed one day. I missed six days, but had multiple posts on other days. So I didn't make my goal, but I did a lot better than the 11 posts in October.

The new Blogger monthly stats brought out my latent statistician tendencies, but I resisted doing a regression analysis. However, here is a chart showing that I tend to post most often in spring and fall. It also shows that if I have a heavy month of posts, it drops precipitously the next month. My first post was June 5, 2002.

Indian Summer

Today may be the last day of Indian Summer and I made good use of it. The compost is on the kitchen garden and then I topped it off with shredded leaves. The compost pile has been turned. I found more things to put away for the winter and I got the snow shovels out preparing for the snow coming our way. Even when I think the garden is ready for winter, it is amazing how many garden chores I can find on a warm day.

Testosterone Tree

I was wrong about the tree. It is not 8' in diameter. It is 12', which means it is impossible to reach the upper limbs even with a 10' ladder because the ladder is 6' away from the trunk of the tree. So the top third of the tree is undecorated. And the bottom third has no ornaments, just lights, because the dog has no control over his tail. I did buy some honking huge red and gold disco balls, which helps fill in the gaps between the limbs and are scaled right for the size of the tree. The menfolk in my house insist it is beautiful, but, heaven help me, it is Charlie Brown's tree on steroids, roped off to the ceiling!

Holiday Day

My sister had Thanksgiving for my family today, or the 33 of us that could make it. Lots of good food, good conversation and laughter. As is the tradition, started by my father, we took a long walk after dinner. Niece Jennifer claimed the 7 point antler we found in the woods. My husband noted that the many children living nearby hadn't found it because they weren't out exploring the woods, or even outdoors at all, in the sunny 60 degree weather.

Ron made a trip to our tree farm this morning to cut the Christmas tree and when we got home from the get-together, we put it up. Ladders, ropes and wenches were required. It is the largest Charlie Brown tree you ever saw. And it is beautiful! It looks like a real tree. I'm a little perplexed how I'm going to decorate it as I do not have gigantic scale ornaments. Here are the stats: original tree -13+ feet; ceiling height - 11 feet; breadth of tree - 8 feet. And that's on our enclosed porch. No way will it fit into the bay window, the traditional spot for the tree.

UPDATE: I was the required wench, although we used a winch to hoist the tree. My husband is the source for this correction.

Ron, tree gatherer extraordinaire and Earth Girl herself
wondering if the tree will fit through the door.

It is taking two strong teenage boys with their father on the rope to put the tree upright.

And here is the tree in all its beauty, almost there. Just need to tighten the rope a bit.

Next steps

Next steps-Holiday
How do those people shop the day after Thanksgiving? I'm still pooped from cooking and cleaning and eating. It is our tradition to cut the Christmas tree today from the tree farm at the Highlands. The trees are getting too big and we now have to cut it in half and only use the top part. Last year I tried to make wreaths with the bottom limbs but that does not seem to be my skill set. They served as winter mulch for the heuchera, which always heaves with the constant freezing and thawing in northern Indiana.

Next steps-Unknown
My weariness is not only physical. My dear mother-in-law made a raw announcement (how could it be anything else?) yesterday about her health. Final tests and biopsies will not be done for several months, but it doesn't look good. Her sons were shell-shocked; still are. We are in that dreadful waiting period between knowing something is seriously wrong and knowing what the medical plan will be.

Next steps-Maturation
And I have to run errands with both sons. Ron needs to establish a bank account to deposit his National Guard earnings and Ricky needs to renew his driver's permit.

Preparing for Thanksgiving

My in-laws are coming here tomorrow for Thanksgiving and I spent today in the kitchen. There are three pies cooling, two loaves of cranberry nut bread, five loaves of homemade wheat bread plus a gaggle of rolls, a large bowl of apple coleslaw and a large pot of cranberry chutney. The turkey is thawed and ready for the morning.

This year I made an apple-butter pumpkin pie from a recipe that Ricky made in his culinary arts class. It didn't set as solid as a traditional pumpkin but it sounds good. The cranberry nut bread is a recipe from my childhood and a Thanksgiving tradition. For over 30 years, I have used the Tassajara Bread Book as my guide in baking. It contains my favorite recipe line; when describing the sponge method, it says, "Let it rise for an hour or 45 or 70 minutes." I totally did not follow instructions because I let the sponge rise for 75 minutes. The cranberry chutney was a new idea this year, sparked by something I read online somewhere. It turned out pretty good, even though I added a tablespoon of cinnamon instead of half a teaspoon. I thought I could shake out an approximate amount, but it flowed way too freely. There's enough to take to my family's gathering this Saturday, and I think it will be delicious on leftover turkey sandwiches.

The boys were off school and cleaned the house, sweeping, mopping, vacuuming, picking up their rooms and doing laundry. Oh, and they ran the dishwasher three times! All that's left is a last clean of the bathrooms. It's a blessing for them to clean without constant supervision. Tomorrow I will put them in charge of setting the tables. Let's see if they remember how the silverware is placed.

Minor and Major Day

Most of my day was spent doing little things, such as finally planting those peonies and ferns. Then I picked Ron up from school and turned him over to the Armed Forces. The papers are all signed but he still has to pass his physical next week and there is a minor problem with flat feet. He's been practicing standing with his toes curled under to arch his foot and minimize the problem. If he passes, he will be inducted into the National Guard on December 1, beginning his weekend duties. Between his junior and senior year he will take basic and then his advanced training after he graduates from high school. He's planning to train as an MP, while taking college classes in Criminal Justice.

I just erased a paragraph making an analogy between planting the flowers and releasing my son, but it didn't work. Too weak. This letting go stuff is hard. He is only 17 and still so young.

Late Autumn Activities

My tender bulbs are stored in a cool dark place, even though I have a love/hate relationship with them. They are harsh mistresses, beautiful but demanding. My tender annuals are potted and mostly adjusting to the indoors. I'm ashamed to admit that I still have some peonies and cinnamon ferns waiting to be planted, or at least heeled in for the winter. But I did manage to can the pears given to me by a co-worker. These are winter pears and very tasty. I think this is the second time in my life I canned anything and all six jars "pinged."



I had a little rant going in my head about how I buy "perfect" fruit in the store, but am pleased to receive "real" fruit from local orchardists. As I was leaving my local garden market last summer, they asked me if I wanted a bushel of peaches free. Because of a few blemishes, they were destined for the trash but she knew, and I knew, that they were perfectly fine if you just cut out the bruises. We had peach cobbler that evening and the rest are in my freezer. The pears weren't perfect, but we munched on them for several weeks as they ripened and I have six pints for this winter. What didn't feed my family, fed my compost. The same is true of the free apples I get. I wouldn't buy them in the store, as I search for only the most perfect specimens, but I am pleased to get a bushel from my brother every year. Of course, most of these are varieties that you can't find in the grocery store. Makes me want to go plant a few fruit trees.

Nurturing the soul through gardening

I wasn't sure what I would post today, until I read a review of a recommended book. The book is Death by Suburb: How to Keep the Suburbs from Killing Your Soul by Dave L. Goetz. A friend at church, the source of many good book recommendations, thought I would like this book about searching for community. It sounds pretty good, but a comment by the first reviewer made me cringe at his cluelessness about gardening:

In the pleasant bedroom communities of America, it can seem as if people are more concerned with tidy flowerbeds than they are the things that nurture the soul.

When I need to nurture my soul, I get down on my knees, hands in the dirt, working with God's creation. I observe the beautiful flowers, the patterns in the leaves, the growth habits, the tiny creatures, how it all works together. I breathe in the fragrant air, whether from newly-turned earth or flowers. I feel privileged to be part of it, to create a thing of beauty. My stresses melt away and I live in the moment.

Then later in his review he uses a garden as an example of ways to move toward more silence! If the garden can nurture the soul of a visitor, how much more does it nurture the soul of the gardener?

Now if he had referenced perfectly manicured, overly chemically-treated lawns as a soul-sucking surburban activity, then I would have nodded my head in agreement!

Four Books

I only have 13 labels under books and that is just not acceptable. If a book is good, I normally finish it before starting another. For some reason, I now have four good books underway: political history, gardening essays, classic novel, and contemporary novel.

Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln by Doris Kearns Goodwin is one that I could not put down until the war started. The Civil War was so horrorific that I have to force myself now to read about the battles, the mistakes, the lost lives.

I'm reading The Essential Earthman by Henry Mitchell. I'm going a little slower than I normally would on this book because I'm posting thoughts about the essay for the gardening book club.

Since Team of Rivals is such a thick book, I couldn't read it while on the exercise bike, so I grabbed Vanity Fair by Thackeray off the bookshelf. So this is my exercise reading.

Finally, I need to start The Tortilla Curtain by T. C. Boyle for December book club. I'm looking forward to this read.

Sukiyaki 1950s style

As I labeled old posts, I decided today's post would be in the category with the least entries and recipes won. It is conventional wisdom (which I always question) for blogging that no one cares what you had for dinner, but here is the recipe for what we had for dinner last night. Anyone who enjoys cooking may find this post interesting as it is a delicious and quick meal. Rave reviews even from the teenagers. And mostly healthy except for "lots of soy sauce." Why is it 1950s style? Because my mother made it for her family in the 1950s. I was fortunate to have an adventurous mother. She found this recipe when she gave a missions class to the teenagers at church about Japan.

Sukiyaki
Brown 1 pound thin-sliced tender steak in oil until medium rare. Add 1 cup sliced celery and 1/2 cup chopped green onion. Saute slightly and add lots of soy sauce. Cover and steam for several minutes. Add 4 oz. sliced mushrooms with juice and 1 package frozen chopped spinach. Steam until warm. Serve over rice.

Earth Girl's Modifications: I rarely measure anything. I used water chestnuts instead of celery last night because that's what I had on hand. I used several cups of sliced fresh mushrooms and fresh chopped spinach. I never use the grocery's "stir fry beef" because it is not tender enough. Partially freeze the steaks to make slicing easier and cut across the grain.