For the love of gardening

When I am lost, there are certain sounds, smells, tasks, visuals that can bring me home, help me find my way back to myself.

Sometimes there is a "recipe".  If I am feeling disconnected from my roots, I visit my grandmother.  Her voice, the food she prepares for me (somehow she is always making my favorite German foods when I need her to be).  One bite of Grandma's rhubarb kuchen and I'm transported to my most happy place.  The farm, open windows, the summer breeze that back then always kept the farm house plenty cool.  Taffy pulls, dandelion wine, taming barn cats and corn on the cob.  The only consistent home I knew for many many years.  Transported back in time, not via the flux capacitor, but a bite of rhubarb kuchen.

Tombstone Pepperoni pizza and Fresca?  My mom's Thursday night bowling league in Webster.  Allowed to stay up past my bedtime, the cheers of local bowling heros, falling asleep across two plastic bucket seats on the highly polished hard wood.

Mogan David red wine with 7-Up in a tiny but heavy silver chalice?  Christmas Eve at dinner.

The salty, beefy goodness of beef jerky or the quirky sweet & salty treat of peanuts in Pepsi (yup that's right...peanuts IN Pepsi)? Childhood every other weekend rituals with my Dad Mario.

The feeling of packed dirt under my fingernails and a fine layer of black dirt dust over my entire body is like a security blanket. No matter where I am, those familiar sensations ground me to my childhood home and my grandparents.  The act of growing food & flowers taps into an inner peace saved only for the acts of hard work and producing something important. Like clean food for my family and flowers to brighten days.

The David Wattier Memorial Garden was born last year in tribute to my Grandpa Wattier who passed away in April 2012.

This year the David Wattier Memorial Garden began indoors in early April, on a sick day, with David Wattier's great grandson's little pre schooler hands tilling the soil of egg cartons.  It was to be the first year we started our own seedlings using all organic seeds.  The 23 windows in our office have been begging for the opportunity to double as a greenhouse and winter had firmly dug in it's heels. Liam and I were home contagious, but not sick enough to burn a day sleeping.

And so we began:

When Liam saw the pink birthday table cloth make it's second appearance in a week, he was so excited.  He had no idea why, but surely it meant some kind of party was about to happen.

And when I placed the egg cartons we'd been saving out in front of him, his enthusiasm did not diminish, but he did need a moment to contemplate what kind of party this could be.

 He had been eyeballing this box on my sewing desk for weeks, always asking what I was putting in it.  Could he open it?  What's it for mommy?  When he realized this was to be the center piece of our weird egg carton and pink plastic floor party he was all about it.

His wonderful preschool grows their own food in a garden next to the building and the kids get to work in it every day, so upon opening the box, he understood that we were about to have a planting party. He recognized the tomatoes first and quickly declared they were all his to plant.

April and May blizzards continued but the 120 seedlings flourish under east facing windows and grow lights in our office.

We waited.

And while we waited, we reveled in all things spring.  Spring flowers, spring birdies, spring mud, spring blizzards.

poor strawberries

We had so many new birds in our backyard this year!  I've been trying to attract a variety of birdies since we moved in and this spring...success!

And then, right after the  Cinco de Mayo blizzard, the sun came out and beckoned us to bring those babies out into the garden so she could help them grow big and strong.  That was how Liam told the story anyway.  I liked it.

And into the ground they went.  The ground, some buckets, some old soup cans, old flower pots.  Turns out 120 seedlings is...a lot.

Here is what we planted:
Summer squash, zucchini, cucumbers, about 4 varieties of tomatoes, cilantro, Serrano peppers, jalapeno peppers, habanero peppers, "hot" peppers, chives, lavender, dill, spinach, arugula, scallions, garlic, carrots, sunflowers and beans,

 

The 2013 David Wattier Memorial Garden was on track to be the healthiest, most fruitful garden thus far in our gardening career.  All natural, all organic, homegrown, food for my family.

Until... well...let's just say what I knew about chemicals was next to nothing.  I read the label.  Shouldn't the label say it's not safe near gardens on the OUTSIDE, rather than on page 10 of the insert?  And now I know about "drift".  How come "drift" never came up all those summer days in the garden with Grandpa?

When I called the number on the back of the weed killer, which was never intended for the gardens, but the walking paths around them, I was told by the nice lady that none of my garden plants were not salvageable.  None.  Even if they didn't die, any fruits they produced for the rest of the season would not be edible.

I kept it together while speaking to her, but when I called my husband, who was waiting for me at Annika's softball game, all I managed to get out was "something bad happened" and the rest was drowned in tears. Poor Brandon was panicked, he couldn't understand a word I was saying and it is so unlike me to break down so utterly and completely.  He listened through tearful heaves and heard words like "Ortho...weeds...toxic...unsafe...garden..." and said "The garden?  You killed the garden?  That's all?" And then a soft laugh, "Oh baby I'm sorry."

So, here we are 2 months later with a much smaller version of the David Wattier Memorial Garden.  Actually, it could be called the David Wattier Salsa Garden. All in pots because the soil is no good until next season. I'm over the loss of the first garden, I've taken note of the silver lining, the opportunity to learn something about giving up control, grieving and moving on, patience and hard work.

Things are coming along quite nicely.

Under the owl's watchful eye.

I love this little Dalia.  There is something about her all bloomed in bright yellow color, but speckled in dirt that feels good to me.

Unbelievably, summer is winding down.  How can that be?  School starts in just 16 days, but there is still lots of time in the garden.  And then lots of time harvesting and canning.  I'm not wishing away these last days of summer though.

The glory of gardening: hands in the dirt, head in the sun, heart with nature. To nurture a garden is to feed not just on the body, but the soul.

Alfred Austin 

rambling flow of thought and speech

From Desk Reference to the Diagnostic Criteria from DSM-3-R (American Psychiatric Association, 1987):

Caffeine-Induced Organic Mental Disorder 305.90 Caffeine Intoxication

1. Recent consumption of caffeine, usually in excess of 250 mg. -  
2. At least five of the following signs:
   1. restlessness   
   2. nervousness 
   3. excitement
   4. insomnia  
   5. flushed face 
   6. diuresis
   7. gastrointestinal disturbance  
   8. muscle twitching
   9. rambling flow of thought and speech  
   10. tachycardia or cardiac arrhythmia  
   11. periods of inexhaustibility
   12. psychomotor agitation
3. Not due to any physical or other mental disorder, such as an Anxiety Disorder.

For three hours last Wednesday, I thought I was going crazy.  I sat on the floor of my basement with Liam.  He played cars and I cried.  At first he would hug me and say "oh baby."  But after about an hour, he just brought all his toys next to his mess of a mother in the middle of the floor, and played quietly.  


But I wasn't going crazy.  I was in the throws of a coffee house opening induced caffeine overdose.  The list is an accurate description of me those three hours.  By the time Brandon got home, I had convinced myself I could not go upstairs, because there was too much up there.  Too many responsibilities, too much noise, a cell phone that wouldn't shut up.  But the basement was quiet and peaceful, full of nothing but toys, my baby boy and me.   

rambling flow of thought and speech 

This dominated my caffeine psychosis and was the reason I just knew I had snapped and would never go back to being a fully functioning person.  There was no flow or organization of my thoughts. A flood of fears, spilling forth in tears and words.     Some completely irrational, some logical but out of my control (think...meteors slamming into earth) and some very raw fears of suddenly dying, leaving behind the people and life I love so much.


I felt deep sadness.


I felt lonely.

rambling flow of thought and speech 

My dear husband listened to me for an hour.  His always calming way brought some quiet to my mind and slowly, perspective returned. 

I don't know if everything happens for a reason, but I feel like it's true.  It may have been the caffeine overdose that started this flow of thought and speech.  But it DID start it, this purge.  And I feel a little lighter, having shed 3 hours of tears and sharing that rambling flow of thought and speech with my husband.  


This is my first experience with grief and the grieving process.  I had no idea there were so many levels to pass through on the way to a new normal.  That so many thoughts and feelings would become intertwined and pull new ones to the surface to deal with.  


I have always had a wicked hard candy shell to protect me from this stuff.  But this year has exposed a major crack in my armor.  Try as I might, I can no longer push aside feeling uncomfortable emotions, they will find me whether I like it or not.  And that is good.


::


Since my big OD I've experienced some old school peace.  Not the kind of the last year, hard earned and scarce.  
Nope, this was good old fashioned look up find it everywhere.  
Peace in:

Puppy eyes

Fall 

 

Winterizing the garden

Finding the perfect costume for Liam

Babies in Halloween costumes

Planning spring's colors Firing up the sewing machine And this...is the view from my home everyday.  

Here is to hoping you are all looking up and finding your own versions of peace everyday.  XOXOXOXO

You know what is NOT peaceful? Crazy formatting><  My apologies for the terrible spacing in tonight's post, but I cannot waste anymore brain power trying to fix it.  

booyah

Dear Diary - 
Tonight I made a delish meal in our new house and called my mom to come over for dinner.  Because I can:) Because we live in the same town.  Booyah.


I've written the opening sentence to this blog post no fewer than 50 times.  It's been 27 days since my last blog post.  Well, one that wasn't a photo challenge.  Anyway, it's not a big deal.  To the world I mean.  It's not even that big a deal to those that check in here once in a while.  Most of them (you) know me and know that I moved to another planet.  Sometimes it feels that way.  But it's a cool planet and my parents live here, so that's nice.


So yeah, in the grand scheme of things, 27 days without a  blog post from the leader of the nerd herd is no biggy.  Except to her (me).


If you blog, you do it for a reason.  For the emotional outlet, the attention, the creative outlet, the sharing, the crafting, the adoration of your doting mother who thinks you are the most brilliant writer since writing was invented.  Unless of course you have a fantabulous skill like sewing or baking and photography and you really do have something amazing to teach the world.  That is not why I blog (see reasons before having a skill).


For me blogging is a joyous mental dump of what is in my heart, my mind and often my camera.  I honestly started doing it strictly for myself.  I wanted to somehow preserve the flow of positive energy that comes from my babies and my husband. My cousin brothers and their families.  My parents, my Aunts.  The city, the farm.   About the same time I started this blog, I edited my Facebook profile "about me" section to simply read

"I am happy"

For reasons unknown to me still, I felt a push to document joy.  Love.  Support.  Family.  Positive energy.  Cheese.


And then...things changed.  As they do.  And so much was lost and suddenly I was documenting things that were so very different.  Sadness.  Loss.  Heartache.  Strength.  Courage.  Tears.  Fear.  Change.


And still there was Joy.  Love.  Support.  Family...cheese.


In the last 27 days, we've plowed through a change that was somewhat unplanned and fairly spontaneous.  I abandoned my career to come home.  I asked my husband to do the same, to abandon his career and come home with me.  To leave his home.  I asked my kids to leave the first home they have known and first close friends they  made and trust me when I told them this would be awesome.  It feels good, it feels right, but it feels very different.  For the first time in a long time, I'm intimidated by what's in front of me.  Time to grow again.  Life...phase 4.


Tonight, I write from my desk in my home office in the great state of South Dakota.  I have 15 windows surrounding me in this office...it's incredible.  Every night I sit here with the shades open, marveling at how dark it is in South Dakota.  There are so many stars here.  And they are so quiet.  At times it does feel like another planet.


The only other thing I can see is the word "Inspire" hanging on the wall.  Yes, time to grow again.  Phase 4.

What I did this summer by Fricka...leader of the nerd herd.

I took my son out in a white onesie all the time because the heat of hell has come to the Midwest.

I let him plop in the kiddie pool in all his clothes for the very same reason.


I begged Grandma to come over every single weekend so we could pack.

I waited very impatiently for him to come home whenever he could.

I wished I hadn't unpacked 3 years ago.

I promised her she will be fine in her new school.

I dreamed of my new office in my new house.

I went to back to corporate school and learned corporate stuffs.

I laughed at muffin jokes.


And promised Baby Calvin his new house would fit him better.  It does.

I ate way too many treats.

I made the trip to see, to paint and to move.

I came home.