Goodnight Garden

There's a frost warning tonight, and so when I hung up from my final meeting of the day, I laced up my boots and walked up to the garden this afternoon. The day was sunny, but blustery and kind of cold; dark and light clouds raced across the sun, and it felt like the forecast was right. Two hours and twenty pounds of green tomatoes later, our plot was cleared out. Cages stacked and compost bin full, I hefted that last bag of bounty onto my shoulder, closed the gate for the season, spun the combo on the lock, and headed home.

Say Yes to the Turnips

 What does Thanksgiving look like in 2020?

Not sure, but I did get the rutabagas today!

The Will and the Way

I woke up stressing about the plants on my deck and the next unit in my English class. 

I usually bring my plants into my classroom for the winter: the wide windowsill and western exposure provide a perfect home for them in the cold, dark months of the year. Our house already feels stuffed to the seams with the addition of two working spaces and everything else we think we need to survive 2020, and I have been wrestling with the plant situation since September. And as an extra complication, our cat eats any non-toxic plant within her reach. Given those restrictions, where could they possibly go?

Fortunately, we have had a splendid fall, but rain tonight and the threat of frost on Tuesday forced my attention on finding the solution today. As it turned out? I simply needed to start carrying the smaller plants inside to find that we do actually have a place for them on the high shelf in the spare room. Once they were squared away, finding space for the larger plants was a bit more challenging, but manageable. I have great hope that all will successfully overwinter, surviving until we can move them outside again. And to be honest, their green is a vibrant addition to our indoor time. 

If I could only figure out how the students can team up virtually to make commercials in January, I might be able to sleep in a little tomorrow.

The New Necessary

As winter approaches, we usually deposit a pair of gloves or mittens in the pockets of each coat or jacket so that we are never caught without them on cold days. Last evening, as we headed down the street to an outdoor birthday party for an 8-year-old neighbor,  I dug my hands into the pockets of my vest and was pleased to find the gloves I had stuffed in there last year. The weather turned a little nippy after the sun set, and who wants cold fingers at a party? 

It turned out, I didn't need them. There were a few logs crackling in a portable fire pit in the center of the gathering. What I did need, though, I didn't have. Despite keeping social distance of six feet, everyone was wearing a mask. I had a gaiter around my neck, and I pulled it up over my mouth and nose, but it was rather uncomfortable for the length of time we were there. 

It had simply never occurred to me to grab one of the many masks we have in a basket by the door; even after six months of masking, some part of my reptilian brain must still be in denial. 

But when I got home? You can bet I added some masks to the mittens in my jackets.

Another Sorrow

A good friend of my mom's passed away last night. June was 88, but more active than a lot of people 10 or 15 years younger. She was a part of my mom's gym and coffee group, and with their friend Barb, they traveled all over, most notably to Europe, and China, and Vegas, and Florida every February. The three of them had a standing date for the Minnesota State Fair the last week of every August, and until the last week of my mom's life, they emailed each other every single morning to check in and make sure that each of them was safe and sound and ready to see another day. My heart goes out to Barb; how empty her inbox must feel.

June had been feeling a little off and then progressively worse for months, but like what happened to my mom, her doctors brushed it off as one minor thing after another until she reached a crisis and went into the ER three weeks ago. There a CT scan suggested advanced cancer, a diagnosis which was confirmed a short time later. She spent her last days at home, surrounded by family and friends. 

As her daughter wrote this morning, "She had 88+ good years and three bad weeks," and when you put it like that? It's hard to imagine asking for much more. But she will be missed by those of us she leaves behind, one more loss in a terrible year.

Why I Can Never Have Chickens

"I'm thinking of making something with pumpkin for dinner tonight," I told Heidi this afternoon.

"Great," she said. "I'm sure it will be good if you make it!"

I walked over to the sideboard and looked at the 4 remaining pumpkins from our garden. "Which one should I cook?" I asked.

"Does it matter?" she replied.

"Not really," I shrugged, "but for some reason? I feel a little bad about chopping them into pieces, throwing them in the oven, and eating them!"

Blah-liday

 It was not a jolly holiday around here today. A muggy, overcast morning gave way to a drenching, tropical afternoon. After working for most of the gray, gray day, I had to get out of the house, so at 4:30 I pulled on some boots and my raincoat, leashed up the dog, and headed out for as brisk a walk as we could manage. Lucy is a sniffer, she never met a patch of grass or invisible trail along the side of a fence that she didn't long to lose her nose in. Such aromatic shenanigans make it challenging to maintain any speed, and so we traded off jogging and meandering, eventually compromising our way down to the local shopping district at the foot of the hill. I was surprised to see a few hardcore restaurant patrons sitting at somewhat soggy tables beneath dripping awnings, but aside from them, the sidewalks were mostly empty. Rounding the bend to the library square I did a double take at the Christmas Tree, all set up and decorated. And although Veteran's Day is mighty early for that kind of cheer, I do confess my spirits rallied just a bit at the sight. I snapped a quick selfie and then off we trotted toward home.