Harvesting Beets

Today I'm bringing in the 4 x 4' bed of beets, steaming, peeling, and freezing them. My hands and kitchen look like murder's been done.

Harvesting Carrots

I dug out my carrots today and sliced, blanched, and froze them. For some reason a lot of them turned out forked, like little orange people, which made peeling them interesting. I had planted half a bed, so roughly 4 x 4', which yielded about 26 cups of frozen carrot slices. One for every other week...so if I wanted a year supply (at one cup a week), I'd need to plant a full bed of 4 x 8'. Good to know.

Thoughts about success

Yesterday I watched an episode of Queer Eye featuring a young man, about 27, who had a loving wife, darling children, a beautiful home, and meaningful work he cared passionately about, but who still felt like a failure because he had been injured and discharged from the military at 21. He had wanted to make the military his career, but he had to find something else instead. And even though he loved what he was doing, he saw his injury and discharge as a failure.

It astounded me that he couldn't see the success he had made of his life, the contribution he made to society, and the value his family and friends placed on him. I wondered how many times I also focus on the failures and don't see the achievements. I'm reading a book right now by Bill Heavey who says that most people experience failure more than success in life, which is why his writing (about bumblings and misadventures) strikes a chord with his readers. 

It's a refreshing thought, to think of failure as just a part of your success instead of a deterrent to it. But often people try to cheer you up or motivate you by saying things like "Failures can be the stepping stones that lead you to greatness." But to my way of thinking, failures can just be failures, with no meaning or benefit attached. They just are what they are. They don't need to be anything else. And everyone has them. Here is something I tried and didn't do well at. Here's something I regret. This is where I fell on my face in front of everybody. Those moments remain stacked in a corner somewhere or strewn about the place like spare bricks left over from a project. The trick is not to let them trip you up as you move along (or to throw them at other people). And yes, maybe one day they'll be useful, just as leftover bricks can be useful for a different project. Oops, dropped another one. Why didn't that work? Okay, learn from that and try again. Or they might just stay there in a pile, unused and possibly unlearned-from. 

The key, for me, is not to let them make you feel like a failure yourself. Look at those messed-up bricks and remind yourself that their very existence indicates that you tried. I don't know that you can look back at every endeavour and comfort yourself with that quote about failing while daring greatly; sometimes what we fail at wasn't great or noble in the first place and maybe wasn't worth doing anyway. But we grasped something by the horns and went for it anyhow. And ultimately, that's better than sitting quietly doing nothing for fear of spilling more bricks. 

Will I be able to look at my discarded tap shoes, my rejection letters from publishers, my unfinished sewing project, my botched paint job, my incomplete Masters Degree differently? Maybe. Maybe not. But hopefully I'll learn not to pick up one of those bricks and bash myself in the head with it quite so often!

I didn't realize hostas had a strong scent

 These smell wonderful! 

The heat wave has been hard on the ferns, though.

Sobering thoughts and Gurdeep Pandher

There's only so much evening news I can watch, and then I need to turn it off. Covid, wildfires, earthquakes, tsunami warnings, floods, mudslides, building collapses, missing children, civil unrest, residential school graves, shootings, crop failures, wars, refugees. There's a bright spot amongst it all on social media -- a Sikh man impossibly landed in the Yukon, who dances bhangra to share hope, joy, and positivity around the globe. Gurdeep Pandher, in sweat pants, beside his humble cabin against breathtaking scenery, can't fix all the problems in the world, but he's doing what he can, what he does best, in his small sphere, to remind us that there's still light in a dark world. He does it with his whole heart, drawing others in, providing an astonishing touch of healing and comfort.

For a while, I watch him and feel my breath slow and calm, my face and shoulders relax. I needed that brief moment of respite.

But then this week...Afghanistan. 

I've never been there. I've only ever known one person from there. But I'm female, and because of where I live I'm free to choose how to live my life, and that alone is enough to scar my heart when I see what's happening. That heart-wrench isn't just for the women and girls, though; it's also for the young men and boys who are being drawn into the pattern of thinking. 

Religious belief is something that's important to me too. My faith shapes what I do, how I dress, who I married, what I eat and drink. But most importantly, it shapes how I think of and treat others. At least, that's its key function that I try to keep at front of mind in my daily walk. But faith cannot turn into unkindness or intolerance or inequity or force, or it loses its whole point. No loving god would approve of religious devotion being used as a weapon, especially against the most vulnerable of his children. You can believe what you want, but there's a boundary to your personal faith that ends where another's health, safety, happiness, and agency begins. And even if you really believe your way is what's best for them, necessary for their own good, you cannot coerce. Even God forces no one to heaven.

I sit on my couch watching the news and feel completely useless. Yes, I can give money. Yes, I can feel bad about it or fling prayers at it. But what I really want to do is get in a private plane, go pick up a woman and her family who are feeling trapped, whisk them to my home, and care for them. I know it isn't possible or practical, and it's like that adage about rescuing starfish on the beach -- you can't save them all. But I want to. I want to drain the entire country of Afghanistan of its women and bring them here. Give them a soft place to land. Let them know there are people who see and care. And then maybe the men whose women have fled will object and stand up and stop the Taliban. 

Yes, I know, but a writer of fiction can't help but fantasize. 

It's easy sometimes to get weighed down by all the darkness in the world. To become paralyzed. Some days it's difficult seeing the way ahead. To not wish the world would just end already.

Meanwhile, Gurdeep is still dancing.

3 a.m. seems to be a theme

Looking back at past posts, I see that 3:00 in the morning seems to be busy time at the McKendrys. And it gives me a plot idea for another book... A group of menopausal women who can't sleep and so go on line, where they meet and form a chat group called the "Three O'Clock Club." And there are several plots woven together, each woman's story and challenges and triumphs told through their posts. Like Maeve Binchy but on Facebook.

Excitement at 3 a.m.

 At 3:00 in the morning, I heard a bang outside and instantly knew what it was. That hollow boom could only come from the garbage bin tipping over. It wasn't windy out, and the bin was up against the hedge, so I suspected what I'd find. Put on the robe and padded outside barefoot, and found the green compost bin tipped over. And yep, a raccoon was sitting on the  black garbage bin beside it, looking at me with an expression like "Who, me?"

I turned on the front light and the raccoon skedaddled into the hedge. But when I bent to pick up the green bin, it was heavy and made scrabbly noises... Gingerly I lifted the lid, and out shot two more raccoons. One fled to the right, the other fled to the left and realized too late that he was about to collide with my legs. We both did a little hop-jump dance to avoid crashing, and he disappeared into the hedge, where he turned and hissed at me like a snake.

The two were all quite small and compact bundles of fur, probably juveniles. Isn't that just like a teenager, going around getting into mischief and waking people up. I imagine the telling-off they'll give their mother: "You lifted the lid and told us to go in! He made it tip over, not me! What kind of mom are you, leaving your children behind while you run for cover?" Ah, the joy and squabbles of family life.

Of course all the commotion woke Brio, so I let him out in the backyard but on a leash. Glad I didn't let him just run loose, because he picked up the scent of the raccoons and started strutting around, huffing and fizzing, acting tough and scrappy, pretending he was half bloodhound instead of half poodle. "Yeah, run away, boys! Just be glad she found you and not me!"

Food Security

I am watching the droughts, heat waves, and wildfires around the globe right now. It was 48.9 celsius in Sicily yesterday. With the humidex, it was 41 here this week. Absolutely crazy. It looks like half of California is on fire. I was reading the recent world report on climate change, and even in the best-case scenario, things are going to continue to worsen well into this century. Looking at human history, I'm not betting on the best-case scenario playing out, though.

All of this wild weather is going to impact crops, I would imagine. Food prices will rise, and there may be scarcity. My husband and I were talking about it last night, and thinking that the garden is going to become a necessity more than just a hobby. I want to raise hens for eggs for protein (Wyandottes and Rhode Island Reds, probably). I've looked up the more nutrient-dense vegetables that I should be planting and thinking about the best ways to provide carbs/bulk to our diet with what I can grow. I'm brainstorming ideas for providing partial shade cover for the plants so they don't burn in the intense sun, without blocking the welcome rain. I'm toying with ideas for a climate-controlled greenhouse. I'm wondering how to convince all my kids to come live with me on a small farm.

Some of the best things I can plant would be: kale, broccoli, spinach, bok choy, swiss chard, collards and other greens, brussels sprouts (if I can convince people to eat them!), tomatoes, onions, carrots, sweet potatoes, bell peppers, zucchini, green beans (for my cholesterol), garlic, cabbage, beets, chia (high in calcium), raspberries, blueberries, potatoes, squashes, oats, dry beans, and quinoa. And cover crops like clover for the hens to eat, though they'll eat vegetable remnants as well. I've grown kamut (Polish wheat) before, but it's a pain to thresh, whereas oats are easy, and apparently good for cholesterol too.

Now...I just need to figure out how to do that with the resources and space I have. And hope that seeds are available, because I don't have all of those right now.

Garden success this year!

 I've never seen so many blooms on a butternut squash plant before. And they are absolutely huge.

The cucumbers are also gigantic, with leaves larger than my foot:

And this is what happens when you plant a seed from a grocery-store pomegranate: