Embracing the Sun

Last fall we scrapped all the beds, except the strangely successful asparagus bed, on the side of the house. The combination of years of failing to produce much and the beech(?) tree that grows ever larger shading more of the side yard we decided to just scrap them. This area is where we do most of our outside hanging anyway. It's next to the back porch, home of all the tantalizing outdoor toys, it's where we keep the grill, and it is the home of the mostest awesome climbing tree EVAR (Zane's words, not mine) a fig tree that doesn't produce much but provides nice shade in the summer and is one of Zane's most favorite places. This weekend we're seeding the whole zone with clover and embracing it's non-vegetable growing tendencies.

You'd think there'd be something in this mess we could eat.

The trouble is we want to grow veggies, but we have absolutely no spots on the property that are full sun. Well, almost no spots.

There is the “parking lot.”

The parking lot is what we call the zone at the very top of the yard just past the culvert. It's where you park when you come to visit, two tires on the grass two tires off. It's dry and strange and full of weeds. Oh, and I believe that it actually belongs to the county.

Why now? Why didn't we try this years ago when we were struggling with this sun problem and relocating beds all over the property? 'Cause I neurotically thought it would look bad. Does it look bad? No, but it doesn't look awesome.

However at this point I've ceased to care. I know, strangeness. But I worried that it looked like we were crazy people for wanting to grow tomatoes. There's a difference between growing things solely for food purposes and growing pretty things. We're already the family with the 4 year old who rides without training wheels, who's usually accompanied by the DUDE ON THE UNICYCLE, and the toddler who's trying to keep up on his strider. We're always outside pulling weeds and picking at the plants, but without the veggies it appears like it's a leisure activity. It's not actually work if you're not trying to grow food. Now, we're the nutters with the vegetable garden right by the road.

Embracing the sun, and also the crazy.
Oh, and notice that this was taken at 2p and it's $%&*# SHADY!!!!

I swear, if we don't get something out of this one I'm going to think about giving up.

Now Zane is Four

Today Zane is four.

Four freaking years old.

One day he was my lovable pain in the ass child who climbed too much and the next he is a Voltron loving, bike riding, tv demanding, boy, WHO GOES TO PRESCHOOL.

Preschool has been awesome.  Zane loves it, and we like what Zane’s coming home with (usually a nap, a couple hours of physical activity, stories about his friends, and a self satisfaction of mastering whatever lesson was on the board for the day.)

He knows his letters, upper and lower case.

He can write his first and last name, with an example to copy, but still.

He knows what month it is, and has since October.

He can count to 47 before getting bored and changing the subject, and he only skips fifteen every other time.

When he was a baby it seemed like every time you blinked there was a different kid in front of you.  Ferris is still in that holy-crap-how-did-you-grow-two-inches-last-night and where-the-heck-did-your-baby-nose-go phase.  But with Zane the changes are much more subtle.  You don’t really notice them, but one day you realize you’ve got a kid who can put his own clothes away, and helps to empty the dishwasher.  He doesn’t need extra clothes when we go out, and while I’m still checking his work, he wipes his own butt.

He is amazing.  And so BIG.

And a really cool person to hangout with.

I’m glad I get to do it for the rest of my life.

Happy Birthday to my Goose.  I love you more and more each day.

Sigh.

Current Projects

The past weekend we crossed a few more things off the ever growing list of to dos.

We turned most of a watermelon into pickles and wine.

Future Pickles

I pulled everything down from all the top shelves and dusted, organized, eliminated, and redistributed around the house.

Ryan sanded the crap out of a couple of banker’s chairs I found at Goodwill ($12 for both!) and put some stain on them.  Later this week he’ll put some varnish/water seal/magic fairy dust on them so they’ll last a bit longer on the front porch.  I figure I can’t get outdoor furniture for that cheap, so even if we only get a couple of years out of them before they disintegrate I’m still ahead.  And they’re sooo pretty!!!

 

Ferris worked on his words.  So far we’ve got:

• Daaadie
• Ma   mae
• App pul
• That
• Kisssssss

He also assisted with the chairs.

It's a good thing I'm cute.

 And Zane worked on his Mario Brother skillz and watched Netflix.

No, it's not even educational.

He also painted a cork board at Home Depot, but that took all of 10 minutes and it wasn’t really on our list of Things that Need Doing.  However, hang a tiny cork board somewhere useful has been added.

Be Careful What You Wish For

The other day I was thinking, “Gee, I’ve got to write something for the Suburban Farm,” ‘cause I’ve made it a loose goal to try to write more often rather than devote my time to more pressing tasks like the laundry, running my business, taking care of my boys.  I’ve categorized this as a Me Time thing, thus making it totally OK to neglect the dirty urchins who are running about the yard unshod and decidedly unbathed.

“No Zane, Mommy can’t help you down from that tree she’s having Me Time.”

Anyway, I couldn’t think of anything to write.  Things were dull, dull, dull.  There are tomatoes that are dying because it’s Thursday and that’s what they do.  There are even more failed garden experiments like the worm chewed cabbages that really need to be pitched into the compost pile.  But none of this is any fun.  Then there’s that old adage about being careful and wishes and stuff.

Friday morning I spotted a dead chicken in the coop from the bedroom window.  Then I spotted another.  Because dead animals are his department, I sent Ryan out to investigate.

At some point in the night a dog broke into the pen and tore every chicken it could get its mouth on apart.  There were only three live chickens left.  

All that remains.

Ryan collected all the chicken parts and reinforced the fence in Ft. Chicken (which is way less secure then we thought it was) and I took photos of the aftermath in the pen.  “No Zane, Mommy can’t feed you breakfast right now, she’s got to take photos of where the chickens died.”

Later in the day I spotted the poor beast.  This dog hasn’t eaten anything other than those chickens in a very long while.  I hope that she’s actually a stray and not someone’s pet that got loose.  She bolted the second she saw me, which I guess is better than the alternative, but now Zane is stuck urchining on the screened in back porch till we know she’s caught.

I’ve called animal control, but they’re not open on weekends.  In the meantime, I'm leaving rice cooked in chicken stock out in the back yard. I hope she’s the one eating it and not the crazy one-eared opossum, the giant raccoon posse who occasionally haunt our back porch and eat cigarette butts and cat food, or the T-Rex sized deer who likes the salad buffet we grow for it.  I want her to get used to coming to our house for food so we can trap her and take her to the shelter where she can get cared for and fed. 

And no, I've no plans on taking in any more strays this month.  I'm already dealing with Crazy Charlie on top of our five cats.

I'm Charlie, I'm CRAZY!

The Great Closet Purge

Every time the boys put on a shirt, or pants, or sock, or whatever, and it simply does not fit anymore I pitch it into a bin in their rooms.  This weekend there was no way I was going to fit one more tiny article of clothing into either of their bins.

Thus began the Great Closet Purge of the Summer of 2012.

I pulled out everything from their drawers, closets, bins and bags of hand-me-downs, and sorted it ALL.  All the tiny diapers that we got for Ferris when he first came home, Zane’s worn out training pants that he no longer wears, all the breastfeeding accoutremonts that I no longer need.  I sorted into bins for the attic, piles for a mythical garage sale that I’ll have some day, and stuff that was simply not worth keeping any longer.  The house was a disaster.

Throughout it all Ryan didn’t so much keep the kids out of my piles, but put his efforts into shooting this:

Yes, this was only one day.  Yes, there were that many Zane wardrobe changes.  No, we didn’t once ask him to put any of it on, well except to yell remind him to, “Put on some damn UNDERPANTS dude.”  Zane is a dedicated nudist.  I have so many adorable pictures that I can’t share on the internet ‘cause he’s in his all together.

Why I spent the whole day trying to find/sort/clear out clothes for him is beyond me.  I’m clearly fighting forces beyond my control .  Also, I seem to have lost an entire season’s worth of Zane’s pants.  I have a sneaking suspicion that he’s hacked my system and hidden them.  I'll find them in a few years when I open up a suspiciously labeled box from the attic.

Well, the jokes on him, ‘cause if I’m desperate he will wear pajamas to school.  On second thought, perhaps I just go buy some more pants.

Mason Bees, Borders Welcome

Tenants Wanted

We built a mason bee house.  After pushing this tiny project to the following weekend, eight weekends in a row, we finally got it done.  It really isn’t that hard, aside from letting some glue dry overnight, I think it took all of 30 minutes and Zane helped.

We’ve been trying to encourage pollinators around our property with flowers and native plants.  There’s only so many times you can pollinate your own apple trees before saying, “We’ve got to get us some more bees around here.”

According to Wikipedia, the Mason bee is named for its habit of making compartments of mud in their nests which are laid in hollow reeds or holes bored by other insects.  They are supposed to only sting if squeezed or stomped upon and be a pretty gentle species.

Unlike the crazy aggressive ground bees we had to get rid of two summers ago.  They were so bad we actually stooped to pouring gasoline into the hole in the ground.  They were BAD.  They would also latch on and sting a bunch of times.  Poor Kismet snuffled the nest one day and got a snoot full of the horrible creatures.  I had to remove a few of them with tweezers.

The Mason is also supposed to be non-destructive.  Unlike the Carpenter Bees that have taken residence up in our house.  We’re having a screen installed next weekend to keep those buggers out.

One of these bees is a good polinator, one drills f'ing holes in my house.

So when we say we’re trying to encourage pollinators, I guess I mean that we’re trying to curate the right kind of pollinators.  The ones that won’t chase us and sting the crap out of anyone, or won’t bore holes in my house.  Sort of the gardening version of transitional neighborhoods.

Plans can be found all over the internet, but really just grab a 4 inch deep block of wood and drill some holes in it.  Add a roof if you’re fancy.  Put it up in a tree about three feet off the ground and wait for the bees to find it.  (You can also buy them, if drilling holes isn’t your thing, just google it.)

Next project is a bat house.   And by house, I mean exceptionally large apartment complex.  Someone needs to help us with our mosquito problem.

The Day After Cupcakes

It’s 100° today.

We got up early to feed the kids breakfast and mow the lawn.  I got the gardens tidied a bit while Zane and Ryan made a mason bee house.  Then we all retreated into the house to hide from the heat.  (Did you hear about the heat?  It’s wicked hot outside.  Just look at all the car thermometer photos your friends are posting on facebook, it’s that freaking hot.  Don’t bother to go outside, just read your twitter feed.  Your friends will all let you know, it’s crazy hot out.  It’s soo hot...)

Ryan and Zane were on a making stuff kick so they made a plaster volcano and painted it.  Later today once the paint dries well add the baking soda and vinegar and make a mess in the kitchen.  It’s a good day for kitchen messes.

And yesterday was Ferris’s birthday party.

It was a lovely, small, and family centric gathering.  We played inside and drank coffee with our cupcakes and ice cream.  After the party was over, and Ferris passed out from all the excitement, Nana & Uncle John read stories to Zane.  Then the four remaining grownups played some Settlers of Catan and ate Chinese food.  

It was a really good day.

I’m starting to sound all modern era hippie mom, but I really feel fortunate.  We have fantastic family and friends.  We are surrounded by folks who care about us and support our wacky adventures.  The kids are healthy, hale, and hearty, not to mention deviously clever.  We have a good life full of modern era conveniences (like the internet, so we’ll know what the weather is doing.  And plumbing.  I can not tell you how much I dig indoor plumbing.)

It’s almost 2 o’clock everyone is going down for naps and all my chores for the weekend are done. So I think I’ll unplug for a while, hide in the air conditioning, and read a bit of my book.