Gardening, growing a lawn, and enjoying life

Yesterday I planted grass, kind of. It was a bag of patch that my wife bought. But, it had grass seed mixed in with small bits of recycled pulp of some unknown waste product. So, there is a big, kraft paper colored spot on my lawn where there used to be a brown dirt patch with sparse grasssy outposts. Of course, the tufts of grass are still there. Sticking bravely through could be a chewed up wet box. But, soon, with luck, water and unrelenting hope there will be lush grass. Today I am breaking out another bag, my wife goes a little crazy and working on different parts.

Further, I picked the first cucumbers off the vine. A momentous occasion, normally anything I plant ends up dead. Sometimes it dies as I am putting it in the ground. A screaming, piercing death, a noise unlike any I have ever heard, until I deciced to garden. Once, I went out to found one of our tomato plants had uprooted itself, braided bark into a crude rope, fashioned a noose and hanged itself from the tree. It left a note and said, "sorry, Tim, I know you had hopes this year but sooner or later the axe would fall and the anticipation was killing me."

This year, though, things are different, our tomato plants have reached glorious heights and have produced actual tomatoes. Just small, green balls the size of marbles, or golf balls, all clumped together for safety. Predators are everywhere. It brings me a great deal of pride to know that somehow I haven't managed to kill these wonderful, hearty plants. There is still time, but, I think we are going to get along pretty well.

I've started talking to them, nothing too elaborate. Just pleasantries, mostly. "Hey, how are you guys?" 

"We're good." They will say. "Did you see the weather?" Weather is a big topic among plants. It can get a little irritating, but you have to be gentle, they are more tempermental than the president.

"Cool, dry, comfortable. Can I get you guys a drink?" 

"Please, that would be so nice."  

We talk about the various issues facing the world. They think we need to cut back on green house gasses, and try to stop climate change, most plants feel that way. But, they don't get too pushy, they are pretty happy with some water, a little sunlight, and sometimes they enjoy a little music. They really like the Zombies, "She's not there," really gets their leaves moving.

So, the lawn is getting better, and the garden, such as it is, is growing right along. This summer has been kind, and I am content. Please take a look at my latest column on the Wild Word. My life as an insider, kind of. Tell me that ain't a happy guy.

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And now for today's weather here in lovely downtown Piqua Ohio.

Spring has finally sprung in our small corner of the world. With temperatures in the low 50s and rain passing through it is time to think about prepping the garden spot for tomatoes.

Don't plant just yet. A cold front is moving through, and temperatures toward the end of the week will dip below freezing at night on Thursday and Friday.

But, next week it will rebound to highs in the sixties and lows in the fifties.

After a brutal winter it is time to move forward with a smile on our faces...

Wait, breaking news. This just in, it is only December, WTF???

Are you sure?

Friends, sources, well placed sources, speaking on the condition of anonymity, have assured me that it is only December, and putting away the snow shovels and tuning up the mower might be a little premature.

Over to Dan at the sports desk to talk about the Indians and the Reds, No, make that the Browns and the Bengals.

Dammit, why didn't somebody stop me? What do you mean my mic is still live....

A nice day, somewhere.

Fall has arrived, and we are facing the prospect of winter. But, we can never stop dreaming about the perfect day. It is our curse, here at Life Explained, OH Office (LEHO). Of course at our Northeast Office (LENO) they have a different vision of the perfect day, any day from September to May that you don't have to shovel snow (for more than an 45 minutes) is pretty nice.

To create the perfect day we enlisted the help of our the Life Explained TerraForming Division. Space Agencies around the world are furious, they are working on a system to make distant planets hospitable, even delightful, why bother flying all the way to Mars if it isn't wonderful, after all.

Bob, the Lead Scientist, thought he had a perfect day dialed up. Sunny, warm and dry, with a light north breeze to keep things cool, and drive down the humidity that has been hovering over the area lately.

We were thrilled, we bought shorts and t-shirts, charcoal grills, steaks, brats, burgers, and Mahi-Mahi, frisbees and flip flops to work. Everybody was ready for one last summer day, we had a pitcher of Sangria and a cooler filled with bottled water, beer and soft drinks.

When dawn came over the area rain clouds stormed in from the south, and opened the valve, releasing a light, almost pleasant drizzle over the whole area, and our doppler radar showed a parade of clouds passing over the entire area for the whole day.

Everybody was furious. Even though the rain was pleasant and cool, it ruined the sand volleyball tournament we had planned. Some associates actually dug up some pitchforks and torches (a complete shock) and were headed towards Bob's office. Things were looking bleak.

But, this picture came through email to the whole company, and things started to make sense. We were so close. Maybe next time, Bob.

Hey, mind if I stop by?

My family has a decidedly agrarian history.  We trace our roots, as far as I have traced them anyway, to the Northern Great Plains.  I still have family there, and whether they like it or not I stay in touch.  Since I live so far away, it normally does not bother them too much.  Every couple of years or so, though, I show up, (appetite in hand, pining for a beer) similar to allergies, or gastritis.  Uncomfortable, recurring afflictions, that are too persistent, and painful to ignore, with no known cure.  They feed me, give me a few beers, and hope I don't last too long.

You may wonder why I bring this up (and may be starting to side with my family).  Don't worry, I'm getting there.  Today, one of my cousins updated her Facebook Picture to a smiling, happy, comfortably, yet fashionably dressed photo of herself, taken, obviously, in warmth, and sunshine.  I commented that it looked so warm we should visit in January.  My wife will lecture me tonight, pointing out that I should have commented on how nice my cousin looked, instead of the weather.  But, she wasn't around and it is my cousin, after all.

Anyway, my cousin said we would be welcome.  This might have been because she wasn't home, which is normally when people (particularly people who know me) want me to show up.  And, my cousin added that the picture was from warmer times, and if we waited until we normally showed up we could suffer through the blistering, humid summer instead of the bitter, bone chilling arctic winter.  Then she apologized for complaining about the insufferable heat, while still dealing with the crippling cold.

People should not worry about those things, though.  Man was meant to complain, that is why we have voices.  So we can raise them in unison, in a glorious, harmonious, chorus of complaining and whining, mostly about the weather.

If you watch the news they spend an inordinate amount of time covering the weather.  Radar, and Doppler Radar, and Weather Center Analysis, to bring you the breaking news that it may snow.  Or, it is going to be cold, and rainy.  Shiny maps, with animated graphics tell the tale of impending frost, or wind chill, or freezing rain, or drenching rain.  There are so many things to worry about.

You may still be wondering why I bring this up, and I can't really say anymore, who knows?  I certainly can't remember.  It had something to do with a trip to the grocery store last weekend.  My wife and I went through the self checkout line, where you can experience all of the excitement of retail employment, all the thrills of products that won't scan correctly, all of the drama coupons being declined, and prices being incorrect, lines filled with sighing, angry people backing up as far as the eye can see, without all of that pesky pay and benefits.

As we finished, I noticed there was a loaf of bread in one of the bags.  Someone had bought the bread, and forgotten to take it home, and it was as good as ours.  It was just waiting for me to pick it up, put it in the same hand as the groceries we had struggled and scraped, and fought our way through the store to buy.  It was found income without the 50% tax rate.  Oh, glorious day.

Then I remembered.  That is almost exactly what happened to Jean Valjean.  A free loaf of bread did not sound so appetizing anymore.  I rushed it over to the person supervising the area, looking to avoid the gendarme.  Ready to bolt, a life on the run, no hope for redemption.  But, they wouldn't take me alive!

It is lost in the crazy workings of a Friday, but somewhere my cousin is responsible for this.  That is certain, what is less clear is how.  But, I have a whole weekend to come up with something.

Tomorrow is a new day, if we make it.

We are in the midst of the mid November Snow storm, an early variation of the polar vortex.  There was concern that this could be the end, so hauntingly depicted in the classic Doors so fittingly named The End;

"This is the end, beautiful friend,
This is the end, my only friend, the end
To our elaborate plans, the end,
To everything that stands, the end."

Thank you, Jim Morrison.

Local meteorologists were scrambling yesterday to find imagery raw, and terrifying enough to depict the coming apocalypse.  It was an afternoon spent warning people that we were in for a rough commute this morning, possibly heavy snow, and potentially, the end.

Stores were packed with combative, frightened shoppers, laying in supplies, bottled water, canned food, candles, batteries, ammunition (to shoot the roaming bands of looters, ravenous packs of timber wolves, and occasional polar bear), and bleach.  Why do they always buy bleach?  Some sort of bizarre need to keep whites white?  Nobody wants to face the end in a dingy, stained t-shirt.

This morning, stations were trampling all over the peaceful, virgin snow, each other, and poor slobs who just wanted to get to work, to bring you the latest, frightening video of snow falling, gently and lightly on a gas station parking lot somewhere south of town.  Local networks called every available reporter, and cameraman into work, for the "team coverage."  They were almost cruel in their capture and interrogation of motorists.

"What do you think of the snow, and driving to work in such hazardous, deadly conditions?"  The reporter asked, pointedly, accusingly, with a scornful, wicked smile.

"Well, people just need to slow down, you can't be in a big hurry."  The older gentleman, who looked as if he would never be in too big a hurry for anything, he was probably a grandfather, wearing a hand knitted stocking hat, and matching scarf, said softly, and politely, leaning into toward the microphone.  He probably did not want to inconvenience the reporter.

"So, you think slowing down, and being careful are enough to save us from the Snowpocalypse*?  Do you really think caution, and common sense will save us from this?"  The reporter asked savagely, with a sweeping, angry swing of his free hand to indicate the falling snow.  Since the older gentleman had moved closer to speak softly into the microphone the pronounced, emphatic arc of the reporters arm hit him right in the forehead and knocked him onto his back, in the new, wet, soft snow.

Thinking quickly, the dedicated journalist stepped over the prone, fallen older gentleman and interviewed someone who was coming out of the gas station with a two liter bottle of Mountain Dew, and a bag of powder sugar donuts.  He was "worried sick" about getting to work on time.  This made the reporter happy, and he patted the person on the back.

Of course, I could only watch so much, I had to get to work, and traffic was heavy, and slow, people were worried, and the freeway just inched along, but, I made it.   I hope you are safe, and warm, and somewhere with coffee, because I care about you, as a person.  Let me know if you had any problems, I will alert the stations.




* Snowpocalypse, much to my surprise, was not flagged as misspelled, neither was snownado.  It just struck me as odd.  Such is the evolution of English.

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