to planting tomatoes recently? Every spring, I swear I will not, adamantly refusing to get lured into that again. Determined to not go through the process of buying, digging a trench (my dad said you should plant them horizontally, to bury all but the top few leaves, and allow the length of the stem grow more roots, make a much stronger/sturdier plant), putting in my premium/home-made 'good' dirt, mulching, watering, tying up, fertilizing, waiting, watching, feeding, observing, watching, waiting, etc.... to get such a diminutive, annoyingly under-performing crop as a result for all my effort.
I did it again. Bought them when I heard the 'siren call', voice of possibility one day when I went into Wallyworld through the garden shop entrance. Meaning to run in and grab a bag of kitty litter and be on my way. Lured into purchasing a couple of little peat pots of 'celebrity' plants. About eight inches tall, with two plants in each pot (I'm always a sucker for a bargain! But suspect the price included that possibility of plants x 2.) I took them home, where they sat by the back door for weeks, neglected, drought stricken, ignored, until they actually had quarter-sized tomatoes on the struggling plants. So certain they wanted to grow, they put roots down into the clay where the peat pots were sitting.
I got them in the ground, nice good rich home-made dirt, a couple of weeks ago, watered well, then said: "OK, guys. You are on your own." Which is what I generally say to things that I put that much effort into planting. I've been out a couple of times to water them, and put some mulch on them this morning. I'm not expecting great things: with a history of remarkably poor production despite good effort and best intentions, I will be pleasantly surprised if I get to enjoy even a semi-decent crop.
Friday, May 30, 2014
maybe I should just...
... change my mailing address, since I stay on the go as much as I am home. I am in Decatur again. Left home mid-morning to do a little project at church, and then get in the road to drive north. My daughter has a friend, who she was very close with in their high school years, now living in Savannah. He is graduating tomorrow from the Savannah School of Art and Design. After several years of floundering around, he has done remarkably well. I have heard her speak of him in recent years, how he seems to have found his niche, and loves the creative expression he finds in cinematography. He's the guy who got on a Greyhound bus in GA, and rode to the west coast to 'break into the movies'. I suspect there is much more opportunity and likelihood of regular meals in the direction he has chosen: behind the camera.
I'd asked her some weeks ago if she was planning to go to the commencing, and she said she had not thought to. I suggested he would be delighted to see her, and thrilled to think she would make the effort to attend his graduation. Not knowing tickets were needed, and they are at a premium. But she found enough to get us in the door - and I will assume that the tickets and numbers of seats available will come out even when we get there. So we will get up in the morning and drive to Savannah for the day.
She said she had talked to the friend's dad, suggested that she would bring the makings to cook dinner for everyone after the ceremony. So we've been to Sam's Club to get the necessary ingredients for a meal tomorrow night - probably for less than half the expense of a dozen people going out to eat someplace. We will go to the graduating at 4:00, observe the pomp and circumstance, and then go back to the duplex where he lives and enjoy a meal together: compliments of the chef!
Which means it will be one of those occasions when there is more time invested in coming and going than actually being there. But it should prove to be a pleasant drive, weather permitting, and an opportunity for friends and family to join in celebrating a considerable achievement. Congratulations, BL!
I'd asked her some weeks ago if she was planning to go to the commencing, and she said she had not thought to. I suggested he would be delighted to see her, and thrilled to think she would make the effort to attend his graduation. Not knowing tickets were needed, and they are at a premium. But she found enough to get us in the door - and I will assume that the tickets and numbers of seats available will come out even when we get there. So we will get up in the morning and drive to Savannah for the day.
She said she had talked to the friend's dad, suggested that she would bring the makings to cook dinner for everyone after the ceremony. So we've been to Sam's Club to get the necessary ingredients for a meal tomorrow night - probably for less than half the expense of a dozen people going out to eat someplace. We will go to the graduating at 4:00, observe the pomp and circumstance, and then go back to the duplex where he lives and enjoy a meal together: compliments of the chef!
Which means it will be one of those occasions when there is more time invested in coming and going than actually being there. But it should prove to be a pleasant drive, weather permitting, and an opportunity for friends and family to join in celebrating a considerable achievement. Congratulations, BL!
414.... (Wed., May 28, 2014)
...on Wednesday, does not include the ninety minutes I drove about a hundred miles on Thursday afternoon from Columbus to Decatur. Where I spent the night, to get up early (6 o'clock) on Wed. morning to drive on up to SC. I went to see my pen pal in Greenville for the day. I usually only make the Decatur to G'ville and back again loop in one day, but knew I had to be at work early on Thurs., so was pushing to get the driving over with before I fell into bed on Wed. evening minutes after getting home at 9 p.m.
My friend Homer had a friend visiting. The friend, BC., is the daughter of a man he met in the service in the 1940's when they were sent to France. In the same unit in the Army, they became friends, keeping up a correspondence after they all got out and went their separate ways. Homer had kept in touch with the C. family, though they lived in Missouri and then California. Where BC lives now.
She came east to visit a retired work friend near Charleston then on to visit with Homer in SC. One of the rare times when I did not feel like I had 'invited myself', as Homer had let me know about her travel plans, so I could try to get up there when BC was in town. I'd not seen her in several years, so it was a good visit, with time to talk about families, listen to a few war stories, and be together.
He is such a sweet, amusing guy. He has several base-ball style caps, that tell everyone who sees him he is a WWII veteran. And wears one every where he goes, so everyplace someone will see the cap, and want to talk, thank him for his service. He is so humble, and appreciative. When I am with him, he is always wanting to introduce me, tell the people who stop him to shake his hand, that I am the daughter of his C.O. But he is the one who is of that Greatest Generation, one of the rapidly diminishing few who so determinedly went where they were told, did what was necessary and safely retuned. Came home to go back to work, marry, raise a family, and re-integrate into society without complaint.
My friend Homer had a friend visiting. The friend, BC., is the daughter of a man he met in the service in the 1940's when they were sent to France. In the same unit in the Army, they became friends, keeping up a correspondence after they all got out and went their separate ways. Homer had kept in touch with the C. family, though they lived in Missouri and then California. Where BC lives now.
She came east to visit a retired work friend near Charleston then on to visit with Homer in SC. One of the rare times when I did not feel like I had 'invited myself', as Homer had let me know about her travel plans, so I could try to get up there when BC was in town. I'd not seen her in several years, so it was a good visit, with time to talk about families, listen to a few war stories, and be together.
He is such a sweet, amusing guy. He has several base-ball style caps, that tell everyone who sees him he is a WWII veteran. And wears one every where he goes, so everyplace someone will see the cap, and want to talk, thank him for his service. He is so humble, and appreciative. When I am with him, he is always wanting to introduce me, tell the people who stop him to shake his hand, that I am the daughter of his C.O. But he is the one who is of that Greatest Generation, one of the rapidly diminishing few who so determinedly went where they were told, did what was necessary and safely retuned. Came home to go back to work, marry, raise a family, and re-integrate into society without complaint.
Thursday, May 29, 2014
planting stuff...
I've been puttering in the yard when I've had time in recent days, trying to get some stuff that has been sitting around in pots in the ground. Thinking it will stand a better chance of surviving the summer planted, in good rich dirt, with plenty of mulch to insulate from the heat than it will in pots. But, foolish me, I have also been putting some other things deliberately in pots. In several big planters to sit out near the front door, so they will need lots of water, to keep healthy and hopefully blooming all summer.
I went to Kmart after work this afternoon, and bought more stuff. What is the matter with me? Have I completely lost my mind? Yes, possibly. Bought a little six pack of red vinca, to put out in the bed in front of the house, so they will be colorful and inviting, near where the butterfly bushes are gloriously blooming, happily attracting hummingbirds. And some hosta to put out in that raised planter to the left of the front door, where it is always shady. Some of last years' plants did not come back, apparently not surviving that (completely unnecessary) miserable cold we endured over the winter. I am very partial to variegated. And had spotted some at Kmart several weeks ago, so went back primarily to check out the hostas.... somehow got lured into buying over $25 worth of things to plant, water, fertilize, nurture, talk to, encourage, tend, provide attention, etc....
And accidentally bought: the red vinca, lantana, a six pack of red salvia the hummers will love, and some yellow blooming, daisy-like gazinias to put in the big planters there on the brick coping, adding color to the assorted herbs: oregano, thyme, creeping jenny along with some purple verbena. I hope it will all do well, grow and be happy there. Hoping also that these are all things the deer do not care for: I saw one standing in the driveway last night when I came home at 9 o'clock, that did not seem at all alarmed about being discovered mosey-ing across the yard.
Got everything planted except one of the lantana, and several other things that have been lingering around for weeks, months (possibly even years) in pots, waiting for me to provide the holes, good dirt, and motivation to get them in the ground. Now comes the challenge of keeping everything watered. I've learned to give everything a good start/fighting chance, digging out that hard non-nutritious red clay. And replacing with my mix of good stuff: peat, vermiculite, manure, osmocote, potting soil.( This from the person who used to get a hearty laugh watching people actually pay good money for a bag of dirt!)
Yesterday's digging/planting included several pots of mini-roses that I have rescued from certain death/dumpster over the years. Mostly blooming red, some yellow. I've kept them watered, and started planting them in the same bed where all the hyacinths were so pretty in the early spring. I won't be surprised if they never bloom, due to the deer browsing through and finding the buds a tempting treat. But they have done remarkably well in spite of the general ignorance/neglect they have received in pots up near the house. We've not had rain recently, so I have been dutifully dragging the hose, hoping to get them established for lots of summer blooms.
I went to Kmart after work this afternoon, and bought more stuff. What is the matter with me? Have I completely lost my mind? Yes, possibly. Bought a little six pack of red vinca, to put out in the bed in front of the house, so they will be colorful and inviting, near where the butterfly bushes are gloriously blooming, happily attracting hummingbirds. And some hosta to put out in that raised planter to the left of the front door, where it is always shady. Some of last years' plants did not come back, apparently not surviving that (completely unnecessary) miserable cold we endured over the winter. I am very partial to variegated. And had spotted some at Kmart several weeks ago, so went back primarily to check out the hostas.... somehow got lured into buying over $25 worth of things to plant, water, fertilize, nurture, talk to, encourage, tend, provide attention, etc....
And accidentally bought: the red vinca, lantana, a six pack of red salvia the hummers will love, and some yellow blooming, daisy-like gazinias to put in the big planters there on the brick coping, adding color to the assorted herbs: oregano, thyme, creeping jenny along with some purple verbena. I hope it will all do well, grow and be happy there. Hoping also that these are all things the deer do not care for: I saw one standing in the driveway last night when I came home at 9 o'clock, that did not seem at all alarmed about being discovered mosey-ing across the yard.
Got everything planted except one of the lantana, and several other things that have been lingering around for weeks, months (possibly even years) in pots, waiting for me to provide the holes, good dirt, and motivation to get them in the ground. Now comes the challenge of keeping everything watered. I've learned to give everything a good start/fighting chance, digging out that hard non-nutritious red clay. And replacing with my mix of good stuff: peat, vermiculite, manure, osmocote, potting soil.( This from the person who used to get a hearty laugh watching people actually pay good money for a bag of dirt!)
Yesterday's digging/planting included several pots of mini-roses that I have rescued from certain death/dumpster over the years. Mostly blooming red, some yellow. I've kept them watered, and started planting them in the same bed where all the hyacinths were so pretty in the early spring. I won't be surprised if they never bloom, due to the deer browsing through and finding the buds a tempting treat. But they have done remarkably well in spite of the general ignorance/neglect they have received in pots up near the house. We've not had rain recently, so I have been dutifully dragging the hose, hoping to get them established for lots of summer blooms.
Monday, May 26, 2014
Decoration Day, part 2...
As we walked and talked, my friend PC was telling me about growing up in Iowa, and spending time with her grandmother going to the cemetery and taking flowers to leave in remembrance. She said her grand mother took actual plants and would put them out around the graves of loved ones. That this grandmother often, on holidays would make the effort to go to the cemetery to visit. Always on Christmas, on decoration day, and other times when she would want to go and commune with the departed.
I remember many times as a child going with my grandparents to cemeteries. To visit people they were related to in towns far from home, but also making the trip to go to visit in cemeteries and be reassured that the grave sites of parents, family interred for eternity were neat, tidy, in good repair, being cared for. One side of the grandparents' families, my maternal grandmothers people, were from the eastern edge of the state, and the granddaddys' folk: from the western edge. So its pretty unlikely that they would find each other, fall for one another, and end up creating a family that included my mom. Coming from such different places geographically back in that era of early nineteenth century, it is hardly believable that they would end up in a little town in south GA, where my mom met my dad and created another generation: making my brother and: me!
We both commented on how people are so geographically distant that does not happen much any more. But I think it is due, in equal part, to the fact that people are not willing to make the effort. They just get involved, wrapped up in so many other things, they do not choose to make time in their lives for remembering and re-visiting the past. People stay so busy with daily activities and immersed in things that are more immediate, they do not stop to reflect and remember.
I've long had this saying/thought that 'if you don't show up (for the committee meeting, lunch date, (assignment of choice), opportunity for service) people think you don't care'. I think this might apply to visiting the cemetery as well. I know there are as many reasons to not go as there are people, but ultimately it is a choice. I love to go to family gatherings that have been happening in recent years in east Georgia, especially on the Sunday of that weekend in June. When we all trek out into the woods, on a little spit of land, surrounded on three sides by a man-made lake. Where the forebears are safely interred. On a hill, overlooking the old home place, now under the water of Clark-Hill reservoir. Family members go and make sure it is well maintained, road is clear, trash from random beer drinkers is picked up. And ready for the group - usually numbering fifty or more - to come and have a picnic lunch, sit under the pines and hardwoods, remembering....
I remember many times as a child going with my grandparents to cemeteries. To visit people they were related to in towns far from home, but also making the trip to go to visit in cemeteries and be reassured that the grave sites of parents, family interred for eternity were neat, tidy, in good repair, being cared for. One side of the grandparents' families, my maternal grandmothers people, were from the eastern edge of the state, and the granddaddys' folk: from the western edge. So its pretty unlikely that they would find each other, fall for one another, and end up creating a family that included my mom. Coming from such different places geographically back in that era of early nineteenth century, it is hardly believable that they would end up in a little town in south GA, where my mom met my dad and created another generation: making my brother and: me!
We both commented on how people are so geographically distant that does not happen much any more. But I think it is due, in equal part, to the fact that people are not willing to make the effort. They just get involved, wrapped up in so many other things, they do not choose to make time in their lives for remembering and re-visiting the past. People stay so busy with daily activities and immersed in things that are more immediate, they do not stop to reflect and remember.
I've long had this saying/thought that 'if you don't show up (for the committee meeting, lunch date, (assignment of choice), opportunity for service) people think you don't care'. I think this might apply to visiting the cemetery as well. I know there are as many reasons to not go as there are people, but ultimately it is a choice. I love to go to family gatherings that have been happening in recent years in east Georgia, especially on the Sunday of that weekend in June. When we all trek out into the woods, on a little spit of land, surrounded on three sides by a man-made lake. Where the forebears are safely interred. On a hill, overlooking the old home place, now under the water of Clark-Hill reservoir. Family members go and make sure it is well maintained, road is clear, trash from random beer drinkers is picked up. And ready for the group - usually numbering fifty or more - to come and have a picnic lunch, sit under the pines and hardwoods, remembering....
Decoration Day...
We went across the river, and drove down to the cemetery. A pleasant trip, as we always have lots to talk about, info. to share. I was hoping there would be numerous flags out in the cemetery, and was not disappointed. Not only was there a small American flag on a dowel in front of every marker, there was also a red poppy for each member of the armed services who was buried there. Plus lots of flags at the entrance to the area, and many more lining the roadway as you drive into the park-like setting of the cemetery.
I'd not thought about the friend who was interred there last summer. So after we made one loop around the various sections, separated by wooded areas, we looked in a 'locator' book to find where she was buried. And had to walk nearly back around to get to the spot where the most recent burials had occurred. The loop around is only about a mile, so it was not too bad to walk it twice. It was interesting to observe a number of other visitors, families coming to visit, leaving mementos for loved ones permanently resting there in the peaceful surroundings of the perpetual care of Veterans' Administration.
.jpg)
I was telling PC that I has asked lots of questions when I went a couple of years ago to a funeral on post, and curious about how things are done in national cemeteries. I was told that if there is a spouse, the graves are always dug to a depth of nine feet, to allow for the spouse to be in the same location. The name of the spouse would then be indicated on the back of the marker. So I guess Jeannie and John will be planted together.
When we stopped a worker to ask if there would be some sort of remembrance or memorial service taking place, he reported it had happened on Sunday afternoon. We'd seen a collection of green funeral home awnings, and several port-a-potties that would indicate some sort of planned event. The worker on the golf cart said there was talk of doing that Service of Remembrance on Memorial Day next year, so we'll know to pay attention, and watch for an announcement, notification in the news.
.jpg)
A quiet, restful, serene place to be, spend some time in meditation and contemplation... not a bad spot to devote a few minutes or hours pondering the ways of the world....
I'd not thought about the friend who was interred there last summer. So after we made one loop around the various sections, separated by wooded areas, we looked in a 'locator' book to find where she was buried. And had to walk nearly back around to get to the spot where the most recent burials had occurred. The loop around is only about a mile, so it was not too bad to walk it twice. It was interesting to observe a number of other visitors, families coming to visit, leaving mementos for loved ones permanently resting there in the peaceful surroundings of the perpetual care of Veterans' Administration.
When we stopped a worker to ask if there would be some sort of remembrance or memorial service taking place, he reported it had happened on Sunday afternoon. We'd seen a collection of green funeral home awnings, and several port-a-potties that would indicate some sort of planned event. The worker on the golf cart said there was talk of doing that Service of Remembrance on Memorial Day next year, so we'll know to pay attention, and watch for an announcement, notification in the news.
Memorial Day, May 26, 2014....
When I was driving with family folk up in VA, we passed a small, brick-wall enclosed cemetery, with lots of headstones in carefully aligned rows. So I asked if it was primarily Confederate soldiers. There deep in the heart of the Confederacy, where Richmond was the capital, before the Union troops began to close in. And the gold bullion that supported the war was loaded up onto wagons to transport south, safe from the advancing Union Army. And then vanished, while desperately trying to stay ahead of Northern Aggression, disappeared, possibly in central Georgia, and never seen again.
I'm not certain if all the graves there, in that small plot on a street corner were of that era, but they were in neat rows, looking so like other national cemeteries I've visited or seen photos of. Those tidy little white monuments about two inches thick, with curved top. Later than day, when we drove by again, avoiding a strung out traffic snarl on the interstate, they pointed out the flags. Said if I looked real quick, through the gap in the wall where the entrance is, I could see that small American flags had been put out by each carefully tended white marker. My brother said he had often been with Boy Scouts who volunteer to put out flags in National Cemeteries prior to federal holidays of remembrance: Memorial Day, Independence Day, Veterans Day.
I've been thinking about that. And asked my friend PC if she would ride with me over to Ft. Mitchell this morning. It's a short drive south of Phenix City in Alabama. There is a national cemetery there: that's really about all there is to Ft. Mitchell. Though it was originally a fort and trading post on the Chattahoochee River, centuries ago. I think the land there was part of the reservation that is now Ft. Benning, on the GA. side of the river, and has been in recent years developed as a cemetery, as the one on post at Benning began to reach capacity.
I've been several places/national cemeteries over the years on a 'flag' holiday, mostly to see the hundreds and hundreds of small brightly colored banners placed in neat rows by each marker. And thought I would like to go to Ft. Mitchell today. PC always gets up and walks several miles each morning. So I asked her if she would like to go to Ft. Mitchell National Cemetery to do her walking today. I'll take a photo or two with my ratty little phone, but you won't see it until I can get closer to my tech support... keep watching this space!
I'm not certain if all the graves there, in that small plot on a street corner were of that era, but they were in neat rows, looking so like other national cemeteries I've visited or seen photos of. Those tidy little white monuments about two inches thick, with curved top. Later than day, when we drove by again, avoiding a strung out traffic snarl on the interstate, they pointed out the flags. Said if I looked real quick, through the gap in the wall where the entrance is, I could see that small American flags had been put out by each carefully tended white marker. My brother said he had often been with Boy Scouts who volunteer to put out flags in National Cemeteries prior to federal holidays of remembrance: Memorial Day, Independence Day, Veterans Day.
I've been thinking about that. And asked my friend PC if she would ride with me over to Ft. Mitchell this morning. It's a short drive south of Phenix City in Alabama. There is a national cemetery there: that's really about all there is to Ft. Mitchell. Though it was originally a fort and trading post on the Chattahoochee River, centuries ago. I think the land there was part of the reservation that is now Ft. Benning, on the GA. side of the river, and has been in recent years developed as a cemetery, as the one on post at Benning began to reach capacity.
I've been several places/national cemeteries over the years on a 'flag' holiday, mostly to see the hundreds and hundreds of small brightly colored banners placed in neat rows by each marker. And thought I would like to go to Ft. Mitchell today. PC always gets up and walks several miles each morning. So I asked her if she would like to go to Ft. Mitchell National Cemetery to do her walking today. I'll take a photo or two with my ratty little phone, but you won't see it until I can get closer to my tech support... keep watching this space!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)