If it works in Texas...

...why not the rest of the U.S.? This from today's news:

"This week yet another report emphasized just how bad a job the American system does at providing basic health care. A study by the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation estimates that 20 million working Americans are uninsured; in Texas, which has the worst record, more than 30 percent of the adults under 65 have no insurance."

Thirty percent of working-age adults without health coverage. Doesn't seem like a problem there to me. Who was that guy that was governor of Texas? What was his name? Maybe he should get a promotion.

Spring Moon

Full moon
Spring night tree frogs sing
Who-are-you?
Where-are-you?

Makin' Bacon

Well, they're here. Duane brought in two little porkers. His daughter will show the better of the two. She named them Mr. and Mrs. Piggly-Wiggly. They're a little shy right now, but if they're anything like the last batch from summer before last, they'll like me coming in to scratch their snouts.

Guess there won't be any shortage of flies this summer.

Tea Time

Another first-time garden experiment: Brewing compost tea. I need something to feed the seedlings. I have some certified organic fish emulsion, but I'm reluctant to put it on the edibles, what with all the heavy metals and PCB's they're finding in the fish we eat; I can only imagine what's in the waste fish they use for fertilizer. So I'm bubbling a bucket of tea; we'll see how it works.

So this is spring? In the fifties today, and yes, I had a few snow pellets fall on me while I was outside. I planted the huge Astilbe, the medium hydrangea, and the achillea (yarrow) and liatris that my good gardening friend Donna was culling out.

The adage goes, "better to plant a $1 plant in a $10 hole, than a $10 plant in a $1 hole." The hydrangea definitely got a $10 hole. The astilbe, maybe $5.50-$6.00; it was tough digging where I put it.

The achillea and liatris found nice homes in the cottage garden. I'm a little concerned at the number of grubs I'm finding when I dig in there; they've been my nemisis in the past. I plucked them out and tossed them on the sidewalk as I found them. It was rather satisfying to squash them, especially since they give a nice little "pop." Kind of like popping bubble wrap with your foot.

It seems I'm more open to rearranging the plants and shrubs than the furniture in my house. If the bleeding heart survives transplanting, it will be a miracle...but then again, isn't that always the case?

The Planter Moon

Or the "Seed Moon" or "Egg Moon," according to various country lore. Tonight.

The Suburbs

Complaint
Is only possible

While living in the suburbs
of God.

– Hafiz

All In A Day's Work

I hear you, Ruby, "Number one...!"

1. Clear and till the space for the new herb garden.
2. Transplant the old herbs to the new herb garden and plant some new ones.
3. Set a new gate post.
4. Plumb the other gate and fix the latch (what a joy to have gates that work!).
5. Plant the dahlia bulbs (all three of them).
6. Re-layer the compost piles (with some help from the chickens).
7. Take apart last year's trellis.
8. Clean up the trash down by the road (one Budweiser quart bottle, Keystone light can, Miller, one Sheetz Big Gulp, 3 Aquafina — glad to see people are drinking more water).
9. Mow the dog yard, the garden yard, the barn yard, the front yard, the back yard, the back-back yard, the driveway, the road.
10. Water all the transplants and the fig twig.
11. Too dark to do the cold-season planting (now two weeks late); do that Sunday.
12. Check the newspaper for a condo in the city.
    

Good fences make good gardens

Well, it's ready to grow now. The fence went up around the "greater" garden today, encompassing the vegetable garden and strawberry patch. Unlike most normal people who simply fence their chickens in, I go to a lot of trouble to fence them out, so they can have free range and tempt the foxes and other predators.

I emptied one of the compost bins and worked it into the cold season bed with the Honda cultivator (two pulls to start after a winter of unwinterized inactivity). Tomorrow or Monday, the seeds can go in — lettuce, beets, turnips, spinach, radishes, broccoli, and whatever else I find in the seed box. Oh, and those darned bulbs.

Tonight, a few weeks late, the ceremonial spring fire (should have been on the equinox), burning up most of the limbs that came down over the winter, and the prunings from the big pear tree out front, which I trimmed more aggressively than usual. The Christmas tree conflagration was incredible, lighting up the whole garden area as if with floodlights, with a waning crescent of moon setting and a sky full of stars for a backdrop. Orion is holding out for dear life, still visible just after dusk, but soon he'll be gone until autumn.

What glorious weather!

Gentlemen, start your engines...

Forget that the Vernal Equinox was weeks ago, and that the tree frogs have been peeping nonstop almost as long. The surest sign of spring has been evident this week on my fitness rides. There they were: the Cub Cadets, Craftsmen, Simplicitys, and for the overachievers, John Deeres, idling in driveways and open garages, ready to assault the increasingly lush, chemically jump-started lawns.

Taking their cue, and with an eye to the latest flood warning in the forecast, I pulled out the tiller with the intention to do just the early-season quarter of the vegetable garden. After squirting off the dust and straw, the Honda engine fired up relatively easily, considering no winterization, and we were off to the races. Reverse gear didn't seem to be working, so I fiddled with the cable adjustment, and was able to get a bit of reverse when I needed it.

As I was going, I started to smell something burning, which I at first ascribed to the omnipresent chicken shit and straw that seems to get everywhere. But it started to seem more and more like burning rubber...like a belt, to be precise.

And I noticed when I paused that the tiller seemed to want to go backwards when it was supposed to be idling. I remembered with alarm the stern warnings in the owner's manual not to engage reverse until forward motion had fully stopped. Apparently, I had a bad counter-rotation situation on my hands, with a tiller that is not supposed to counter-rotate.

I entertained for a minute the idea of just tilling the rest backwards. There was quite a bit left to do, though, and it would be slow going, and who knew what neighbors might be watching?

I'm a piss-poor mechanic, but I got the tools out anyway. It clearly wasn't the cable. So I took the cowling off, and lubricated the stuck pivot point, and the rest of the pulleys, etc., while I was in there. Gave everything a nice petro-shower. How annoying that it would need oiling after just two seasons of heavy use.

It did the trick, and I ended up tilling all four quarters...and got some mowing in (though it didn't really need it) before the rains. It sure was satisfying to see that nice fresh earth before the weeds take over. I scattered some scratch grain all over so the the chickens would get in there and do their job: Scratch, peck, and poop. I'll keep them employed at it through the weekend.

Then it's planting time!

Damn Thirsty

First
The fish needs to say,

"Something ain't right about this
Camel ride —

And I'm
Feeling so damn

Thirsty."

–Hafiz

Paternoster

Paternoster
Originally uploaded by rebetsky.

May he rest in peace.