I had visions of getting up Easter morning, making coffee, frying the bacon for the Hot Cross buns I made last night. Having breakfast in bed with the dogs lazying around us and the sun streaming through our windows. Put a bubble around that and prick it with a pin. I won't get into the gory details but its sufficient to say that the above fuzzy warm vision from my mind did not happen.
Instead it has been a battle of wills with the canine creatures of this household. I have made a discovery this morning that Beagles are the equivalent of a Canine Donkey. They both bray, both are stubborn and both can be led by a carrot.
Mind you I will say one thing about the Beagle, at least he avoids the muck and mire in the backyard. He hates getting his paws muddy. The Airedale and the CorgieX on the other hand I swear seek them out then run through the mud at least five times ensuring the muck will be tracked in. I could grow a garden with what gets tracked in. Have you met Bleach? Its my new best friend. My mop is threatening to go on strike with the overtime its been putting in. I don't dare put the laundry out until things have dried up. I envision my greyish white sheets with mud splatters from the dogs galloping by.
I was looking around my kitchen as I was kneading the dough last night and a memory came from a deep recess of my mind. I had to have been very little because my Grandmother who was a very tiny woman, (she weight 98lbs when she married my grandfather and was four feet eleven inches in height) seemed so big to me. She was baking something and pulled up a chair for me to help her. She opened a drawer and there was a rolling pin just my size. The kitchen was long and narrow with huge cupboards. Sometimes when I'm baking bread (its always bread for some reason) I can sense her. I realised last night that everything I want to do to the kitchen if very reminiscent of that kitchen from her house.
In the middle of the summers here I love to walk into my mother's kitchen early in the morning. It smells like my Nona's kitchen and there was always aromatic smells wafting from the windows. But its a certain combination of the scent of coffee, the promise of the heat in the cool of the morning and a linger of something baked. It was a homey smell. I think because we moved so much, my Nona's house was a rock. She was always there. At Easter time she would send up Scallili, (Sp?) a deep fried Italian cookie dripping in Honey. I used to look so forward to it. In someways it was so much more anticipated than the chocolate.
No wonder my kitchen is so important to me. Its like my zen room. I can pound out frustrations on the bread, contemplate the meaning of life as I'm washing dishes or reminisce as I'm stirring a sauce. With everything Hubby is planning, I'm now nagging that we arrange the room so it will be a practical room. Right now, everything is haphazard as it was all just a temporary solution. The purple cupboard is getting to me now along with the too high green counter with no space, and the one that isn't anchored down cause it was supposed to be makeshift. I'm really sick of makeshift after 10 years.
Its just cabin fever ranting combined with an itch to clean out everything but can't until the ground has dried out. Or it could be that Hubby never seems to work anymore. This week alone he has had four days off. I finally asked him if he still had a job or was this the company's polite way of letting him go. He says he still has a job.
Well the coffee cup is empty and that cannot happen in this house. A full cup of coffee is necessary for the creative energies to flow...Why do I hear Artist laughing at me inside my head...Okay... how about I'm a caffeine addict that can't be more than four feet away from the coffee pot or things get really ugly around here? Yup, that got rid of the voice from down the street cackling at me. My daughter informed me that Artist and I cackle. I told her to remember who cackles and not to mess with us lest I pull out my wand.
Remember, girls giggle, women can't be bothered, we outright laugh.
Happy Easter Everyone.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Spring has sprung...
And apparently doggie poop is what springs up in my yard. Not as bad as previous years but still it means my getting outside and begin the clean up. I can't wait. Seriously, I am itching to get started on our yard and garden.
Scribble, and Rhode, here's one to put a big grin on your faces. Artist will just have to bear with the repeat.
Hubby went on a course, last Thursday with another fellow from work who is the seed manager. Hubby tells me, emphatically and aggressively that Seed Man said there are no organic seeds available. There are only three seed companies in North America and they all have the altered seeds. I answered, that a grocery store here in town was offering certified organic seeds. "No they had to have been Altered, Seed Man said you can't get them, he's tried." Here came the raging bull. Cause I said organic seeds could be found. So the argument ensued. And yeah, he was mad. I finally said "You can't tell me that somebody who wants to start farming organically can't get the seeds." He shot back with "Why do you have to be so argumentative?" I hit him with "Why do you have to be so negative."
So to prove me wrong he jumps online. What comes up but "Parkdale Organic and Heirloom Seeds" I heard a very quiet "Oh" coming from the Hubby as I left the room. Yeah, that was a pretty big ouch. Not only was I right, but I proved both Hubby and Seed Man wrong. Hows that for hitting two birds with one stone?
He's still smarting. I know because now, what ever I want for seeds, I can get. He's not saying a word. He told his mother last night about it and I called out saying that I would fill her in on the details later. That was met with a glare. Hey, if your dumb enough to back some idiot at work, to your wife no less, then be prepared for the gloating.
Its a really good thing the man loves me.
That reminds me, I should fire off an email to Park whatever seeds and thank them. After my coffee.
Scribble, and Rhode, here's one to put a big grin on your faces. Artist will just have to bear with the repeat.
Hubby went on a course, last Thursday with another fellow from work who is the seed manager. Hubby tells me, emphatically and aggressively that Seed Man said there are no organic seeds available. There are only three seed companies in North America and they all have the altered seeds. I answered, that a grocery store here in town was offering certified organic seeds. "No they had to have been Altered, Seed Man said you can't get them, he's tried." Here came the raging bull. Cause I said organic seeds could be found. So the argument ensued. And yeah, he was mad. I finally said "You can't tell me that somebody who wants to start farming organically can't get the seeds." He shot back with "Why do you have to be so argumentative?" I hit him with "Why do you have to be so negative."
So to prove me wrong he jumps online. What comes up but "Parkdale Organic and Heirloom Seeds" I heard a very quiet "Oh" coming from the Hubby as I left the room. Yeah, that was a pretty big ouch. Not only was I right, but I proved both Hubby and Seed Man wrong. Hows that for hitting two birds with one stone?
He's still smarting. I know because now, what ever I want for seeds, I can get. He's not saying a word. He told his mother last night about it and I called out saying that I would fill her in on the details later. That was met with a glare. Hey, if your dumb enough to back some idiot at work, to your wife no less, then be prepared for the gloating.
Its a really good thing the man loves me.
That reminds me, I should fire off an email to Park whatever seeds and thank them. After my coffee.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Victory Garden?
How I love my Hubby. Let me count the ways. He is driving me insane these last few days. the other night he came home in a flap about an article he read in Macleans on the food shortages coming up and how beef is going to be at $23.00 a pound in in Canada. According to the article places like Australia are already in a crisis. One of the reasons is because China is demanding the North American Diet.
Okay, now I remember the same scare in the nineties and eighties. My mother said it was also in the seventies. My problem with the article is this; They splash theis huge alarmist promo on the front cover then you have to hunt for the article of five pages which is all doomsay. What ticked me off was the fact the articles surrounding this huge feature (that you have to find) are on the Oscars, a broke Canadian Actor and of course children who are taught a blood sport as a means of fighting. The article that really slayed me was on the coffee beans of Brazil. In the event of a food shortage you would think that how Brazil makes lousy coffee and grows the finest would be moot point.
So in light of this we are putting in a garden. farmer Brown that I married has never done a lick of gardening in his life. How to I know this, because growing up, Hubby spent his time with his Dad in the sawmill. I have the added advantage of listening to his mother who commented that she never had help with the garden with the exception of the odd daughter. So with this in mind we trudge along planning out everything. Of course I have no storgae, my freezer is only the top foot and a half of my fridge and no cold room or storage but hey, we are to grow a garden. this is of course, surmising that we will actually grow something.
The results will be interesting to say the least. That is if our marriage survives the forray into gardening. Or the blog as he sits and reads it.
It will make for an interesting summer. They way I look at it, I will providing my mother and other gardeners with plenty of entertainment. I'm looking forward to that one tomatoe and leaf of spinach. but hey, at least I will be able to say, look what I grew.
Okay, now I remember the same scare in the nineties and eighties. My mother said it was also in the seventies. My problem with the article is this; They splash theis huge alarmist promo on the front cover then you have to hunt for the article of five pages which is all doomsay. What ticked me off was the fact the articles surrounding this huge feature (that you have to find) are on the Oscars, a broke Canadian Actor and of course children who are taught a blood sport as a means of fighting. The article that really slayed me was on the coffee beans of Brazil. In the event of a food shortage you would think that how Brazil makes lousy coffee and grows the finest would be moot point.
So in light of this we are putting in a garden. farmer Brown that I married has never done a lick of gardening in his life. How to I know this, because growing up, Hubby spent his time with his Dad in the sawmill. I have the added advantage of listening to his mother who commented that she never had help with the garden with the exception of the odd daughter. So with this in mind we trudge along planning out everything. Of course I have no storgae, my freezer is only the top foot and a half of my fridge and no cold room or storage but hey, we are to grow a garden. this is of course, surmising that we will actually grow something.
The results will be interesting to say the least. That is if our marriage survives the forray into gardening. Or the blog as he sits and reads it.
It will make for an interesting summer. They way I look at it, I will providing my mother and other gardeners with plenty of entertainment. I'm looking forward to that one tomatoe and leaf of spinach. but hey, at least I will be able to say, look what I grew.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Morning Reflections
Hubby is sleeping in and I find I have a few moments this morning to myself. The phone didn't ring demanding my attention nor did the dogs nag at me pushing me out of bed. The sun is shining promising to rid us of the white blanket outside and even the sounds of birds are reaching my ears. As I stare at the keyboard the Beagle is snoring quietly beside me in his basket. This is the type of morning that I live for.
And yet for some reason the creative juices that usually flow on these type on mornings is just not flowing. I feel more reflective. Lately I have been anticipating Spring's arrival more than any other year. Hubby and I have the back yard planned out but I just want to get my hands in dirt. Its like I need to feel that connection with the ground again. Playing in my little potted plants of herbs really isn't cutting it.
Monday, I walked down to Artist's. Her trees among the oldest if not the oldest in our town, was covered with birds. Normally they would fly in away as someone approaches. These birds didn't. I looked up and said "Hi Kyle." (Birds are sometimes the messengers for our loved ones on the other side.) The birds chatter became louder as I entered Artist's house. Kyle was around to listen to our conversations. He used to join us very quietly and sit and listen in on Artist and I as we coffee'd. Its something small but I miss it. Kyle's questions had the ability to make you stop and think. It was even more fun to make him blush or laugh.
We stayed the night at friends this weekend who lost their son two and half years ago. Their son was shot and killed. I knew this boy from the time he was three and may I say in his short life he did more experiencing than anyone I knew. He was a cool kid. I miss him too. Mitchell had a way of making you laugh with a mere grin.
My friend commented that we have all changed. Her family and my family. My answer was how could we we not change. Personally I have witnessed two very precious people in my life walk through a mother's nightmare that I can not even begin to fathom. I would have been a very shallow person and a selfish one not to. And personally I felt I did not have a right to continue to hold on to the baggage of the past as an excuse or for whatever reason's I held on to it. In the scheme of life, that crap was trivial. All of it.
It must be the time of year. In some religions Spring is the time of year where the energies spark growth and rebirth. It is also the time of year we let go of things, to make room for the new I guess as with Spring cleaning. Spring is the time of change and new thoughts. I'll just be happy when I can put my fingers into the earth and feel the dirt beneath my fingers. Its an odd thing for someone like me who really is more of a brown thumb than green. But I am working on it.
And speaking of rebirth, I planted apple seeds. I was grating an organic apple for the Beagle's food when the seeds fell from the apple core. My thought was if it was an organic apple the seeds would grow, so I planted them. I have two apple tress that sprouted. Its so cool to look down in my pot of dirt to see these little trees grow. If they don't make it, I'll just plant more and fumble my way through the learning process but if they do, I'll plant them in our backyard. I'm finding a new joy in my life, and hopefully it will lead to a garden with fruit trees.
If not, there is always the farmer's market and we will have a lovely new cement patio.
And yet for some reason the creative juices that usually flow on these type on mornings is just not flowing. I feel more reflective. Lately I have been anticipating Spring's arrival more than any other year. Hubby and I have the back yard planned out but I just want to get my hands in dirt. Its like I need to feel that connection with the ground again. Playing in my little potted plants of herbs really isn't cutting it.
Monday, I walked down to Artist's. Her trees among the oldest if not the oldest in our town, was covered with birds. Normally they would fly in away as someone approaches. These birds didn't. I looked up and said "Hi Kyle." (Birds are sometimes the messengers for our loved ones on the other side.) The birds chatter became louder as I entered Artist's house. Kyle was around to listen to our conversations. He used to join us very quietly and sit and listen in on Artist and I as we coffee'd. Its something small but I miss it. Kyle's questions had the ability to make you stop and think. It was even more fun to make him blush or laugh.
We stayed the night at friends this weekend who lost their son two and half years ago. Their son was shot and killed. I knew this boy from the time he was three and may I say in his short life he did more experiencing than anyone I knew. He was a cool kid. I miss him too. Mitchell had a way of making you laugh with a mere grin.
My friend commented that we have all changed. Her family and my family. My answer was how could we we not change. Personally I have witnessed two very precious people in my life walk through a mother's nightmare that I can not even begin to fathom. I would have been a very shallow person and a selfish one not to. And personally I felt I did not have a right to continue to hold on to the baggage of the past as an excuse or for whatever reason's I held on to it. In the scheme of life, that crap was trivial. All of it.
It must be the time of year. In some religions Spring is the time of year where the energies spark growth and rebirth. It is also the time of year we let go of things, to make room for the new I guess as with Spring cleaning. Spring is the time of change and new thoughts. I'll just be happy when I can put my fingers into the earth and feel the dirt beneath my fingers. Its an odd thing for someone like me who really is more of a brown thumb than green. But I am working on it.
And speaking of rebirth, I planted apple seeds. I was grating an organic apple for the Beagle's food when the seeds fell from the apple core. My thought was if it was an organic apple the seeds would grow, so I planted them. I have two apple tress that sprouted. Its so cool to look down in my pot of dirt to see these little trees grow. If they don't make it, I'll just plant more and fumble my way through the learning process but if they do, I'll plant them in our backyard. I'm finding a new joy in my life, and hopefully it will lead to a garden with fruit trees.
If not, there is always the farmer's market and we will have a lovely new cement patio.
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