Spring planting in Idaho

The calendar says it's spring. Look out the window, however, and you see something completely different. There is no blue sky, sunshine, or chirping birds. Just gray skies, howling wind and intermittent snow and rain. As I sat on my front porch last night, wrapped in a down blanket, my roaring propane fire dancing at my feet, I decided I would not be thwarted by Mother Nature's attempts to convince me it was not spring after all. I hopped in my car, drove to Home Depot (because they have everything) and picked up a Jiffy plant starting kit. That's right Mrs. Nature, there are many ways to skin a cat (not that I would really skin a cat.....what a morbid turn of phrase anyway) and planting seeds in little containers of dirt and keeping them inside my house until you finally give in is one of them. This morning, after having my nails beautifully manicured, I came home and retrieved my little Jiffy garden from its spot on top of the freezer in the garage and carried it in the house. I excitedly tore open the package and carefully read the instructions which informed me that I would need about 10 1/2 cups of warm water to fully hydrate the hard little disks of dirt waiting in the perfectly arranged little plastic grid. It was amazing to put in the water and watch those flat little hockey pucks drink up the water and transform into perfect little pods of rich brown dirt just waiting for me to add my seeds. Early this month I had purchased what the package claimed, was everything I would need for the perfect vegetable/salsa garden. I opened my all inclusive package and found the little paper packages of seeds. Now I could feel my heart rate increase just a little and the saliva started to flow in my mouth as I looked at the beautiful pictures of tomatoes, peppers, squash, eggplant, and herbs on those packages. My mind wandered to some place in what I hoped was the near future where I would look out my back window and see healthy green plants, drooping with fresh vegetables. I again perused the planting instructions for my little Jiffy garden and felt my breath catch in my throat as I read, "carefully pull the netting back on each pod and loosen and level the soil on top." Excuse me? I am supposed to actually touch the dirt? Wait, I just had my nails done. Can't I just pour the seeds on top and call it good? Apparently not, so I started the search for my little cloth gardening gloves. I had purchased them a couple of years ago when I believed that growing a garden in Idaho was a real possibility and now the little gloves had been resigned to someplace where all the things associated with my great ideas gone bad were. After some searching, I finally found my little gloves and slipped them on. Now I was ready to handle the little pods. Using a yellow plastic fork from the kitchen drawer I loosened that soil like a real farmer and then raked it smooth with the yellow fork. Halfway through the pack of 72 pods, I discovered something about myself. I am not a patient person. Each pod had to be handled carefully and slowly or the dirt would go flying out of the little planting pod and be useless. I took a deep breath and steeled myself against my own attention deficit issues and concentrated on farming my little garden. At last all the little pods were ready to receive their seeds. I opened the first packet of tomato seeds and looked inside. What was this? Where were the seeds? Wait, okay, if I get a magnifying glass and look really close I can actually see all 9 seeds the size of ground pepper. I read the planting instructions on the packet and it said to put 2 to 3 seeds in each pod and cover them with a little soil. I am not kidding when I say there were 9 tiny little specs of seed in this package. Who was the poor sucker that had to count and put 9 seeds in this envelope? Really, were they trying to save money, because how much could it cost to just take a pinch of seeds and drop them in the pack. What were they afraid of, that I might plant too many tomato seeds and they would get out of hand and overrun the neighborhood? I actually had to get a pair of tweezers in order to handle these precious little darlings. I carefully placed 3 seeds, one at a time, in a little pod of dirt and gently raked soil over it with my little yellow fork. After planting 3 pods, I placed the empty package at the side of the pods so I would know what they were when they didn't sprout. I breathed a deep sigh of satisfaction. Yes, I could have been a farmer. If I thought the tomato seeds were bad, I gasped out loud when I saw the onion seeds. Now I get why people wait and buy their plants already started. This seed planting thing was hard work! I determined not to get distracted from my project and I focused all my energy into carefully placing the tiny, sleeping plants into the rich soil until all the packages were empty (which isn't saying much considering the microscopic contents of each package) and each and every pod contained the potential for a living plant. Now the instructions said to replace the plastic dome on the garden. Okay, that part was easy. And then to place it in a warm place out of direct sunlight. Well, keeping it out of direct sunlight would be easy. About anyplace in the State of Idaho would qualify for that, but keeping my sleeping babies warm might be a little tougher. I looked around my house for the perfect spot and then as I saw Daisy sleeping peacefully I knew where it was. She was slumbering away on the bathroom floor in front of the heat vent. Nobody ever used that bathroom anyway, so sorry Daisy, but my precious seedlings just got you evicted from your favorite sleeping spot. I placed my little garden on the fluffy, blue bathroom rug in front of the cabinet heat vent and blew them a little kiss. Sleep well, my babies, someday soon the sun will shine and hopefully your little heads will be peaking out of the rich brown soil and be ready to drink it in, I know I am. Then I slipped off my pretty garden gloves and placed them back in their little cupboard, checked for stray dirt under my nails and took my place in my favorite recliner in front of my fireplace, a wicked grin on my face as I challenged Mother Nature to try to defeat me. We shall see.

Always wishing for time travel

Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forward. Soren Kierkegaard

Soren Kierkegaard was a Danish Philosopher. Much of his work dealt with the importance of personal choice and commitment. That being said, this quote from him holds a lot of meaning. Are not our lives a series of personal choices defined by the kind of commitment we make to those choices? I have always been fascinated by the concept of time travel, quite possibly because so many of my personal life choices have not turned out so great, in spite of the commitment I made to them. The frustrating paradox of time travel, however, is the question of, would making different choices really make things better? Or, would I find myself 30 years into an alternate future looking back and once again wishing I could do it over again. We buy a car, a washing machine, a computer or any other number of meaningless things and they come with a guarantee, and in fact for a small additional fee we can purchase an extension of that guarantee to insure that in the future that appliance will cause us no real grief. If only life could come with such guarantees. But, unfortunately the one thing that is the most important and bears the most value, our very lives, comes with no guarantees. Funny thing though, the quote says life can be understood backwards, and so, the importance of studying history. Sadly, most people forget to consult the past before trudging forward into the future. I suppose I could exhaust a lot of energy wishing I had done things differently and wondering if I could have saved myself some pain. But in the process of protecting myself, what joys and pleasures would I have also missed? As a teenager I broke my leg on the slide at girls' camp. This slide was legendary and was constructed down the side of a mountain. One particular summer we decided to slide down on pieces of wax paper to make it faster. For a few shorts moments, I felt the air rush past my face and through my hair. My heart raced and I squealed with utter delight as I flew like a rocket down that mountain. Yes, I snapped my ankle and it hurt and I limped around for awhile, but eventually the pain went away and the limp went away. But, the thrill of the ride is still lodged securely in my memory and what a thrill I would have missed if I had changed that moment when I plopped on that piece of wax paper and rocketed down the mountain. I suppose in the end I have to conclude, that there are a few simple facts that help us to make the best decisions we can based on the information we have available, and then we live with them. These facts are as follows: (1) Never lie. Except when someone's feelings are at stake, such as, "do these pants make my butt look big?" Then the art of complimentary embellishment is essential. (2) If it's not yours, don't touch it. My kids will attest to the importance of this statement. It was our family creed forever. (3) Be kind. No matter what the circumstances, there is no excuse to return unkindness with more unkindness. Besides, when someone has just treated you unkindly, smile and say something nice...it will freak them out. (4)Find joy in your work, whatever it may be. Beyond that, we can't help when other people lie to us, or steal from us, or hurt us to protect or promote themselves. Someday, someone you thought was your friend might hurt you. Someone you once loved might stop loving you, or maybe you will discover they never really did love you. But, if you don't take the risk of making a mistake, you may never find that someone does love you, that some people don't lie, and there is nothing so valuable as a true friend. However, if we choose to follow the steps mentioned above, we can always love ourselves, guaranteed!

So, fear not the future. Forge on. Don't be shackled by the fear of failure or of making a mistake. History is full of them. That's what makes an interesting read. May our lives be full of history and living, not just being alive.

Beware of cats bearing gifts

It was very early this morning when I was forced to drag myself out of bed by the call of nature. The day before was pretty unpleasant as I was suffering through a little stomach virus I got from Heaven knows where. You would think after spending the day in bed I wouldn't be tired enough to sleep all night, but sleeping didn't seem to be a problem. However, I digress. So, I stumbled out of bed, joints creaking and croaking like a little choir of frogs and crickets due to my advanced age, and stumbled blindly in the dark towards my bathroom. There on the floor I could see a dark mass of something and I hesitated. Considering the fact that I wasn't wearing my glasses or contacts, and I do not have the ability to identify anything more than 12 inches in front of my face in broad daylight without them let alone in the dark, and the fact that I do live with three animals, I knew hesitation and investigation was probably the best move under the circumstances. I carefully bent, and using the tips of my well manicured acrylic, and thereby germ resistant, fingernails I picked up the dark blob on my floor. It felt a little wet and squishy so I brought it closer to my face for a better chance to identify what it was, assuming it was the remains of some well used chew toy or stuffed animal. Imagine, if you will, the sound of a piercing scream in the dark of my empty bedroom as I looked at the wet, squishy mass between my fingernails and realized.... it was looking back at me! It was the head of a field mouse! I felt like I was in some kind of Cat Godfather movie or something. You know, mouse's head in my bed and all. I immediately dropped the little gift and danced back and forth from one foot to the other as a I shuddered and screamed. Acrylic or not, I'm not taking the chance that my nails are that germ resistant. I quickly grabbed a bottle of hand sanitizer and sanitized, rinsed, and sanitized again. Then I removed half a roll of paper towels and wadded them up so I could pick up the decapitated mouse head with the assurance that no part of it would come close to having contact with my skin, and in my night gown and slippers, at 2 a.m., wandered into the driveway to dispose of it in the outside garbage can. Then it was to the kitchen for the can of Lysol disinfecting spray so I could spray every inch of my bedroom floor. Now, all the while that this spectacle is taking place I realize that Carl, the cat, is sitting comfortably on my bed watching me and wondering why I have such a problem with his little gift. Then it comes to me, cats like to bring their owners parts of their "catch" as a gift to show their appreciation. Do you suppose being gifted with the head of the mouse is some sort of ultimate show of gratitude? Could it be Carl expects me to have it taxidermy'd and hang it on the wall? Maybe about a foot off the floor so he can stand and admire it from time to time. I'm not sure having a wall covered with taxidermy'd mouse heads would fit with my decor. I wonder how I can convince Carl that, although I appreciate the gesture, he really doesn't need to express his appreciation. I know he is happy. Really. However, I will be keeping a pair of garden gloves next to my bed and the next time I see something suspicious on the floor in the middle of the night. I will not be retrieving it until I am wearing the gloves. Just a very essential precaution.