Garden update, and making free organic fertilizer

First I'll tell you about the garden. These are the candy weeks, as we get close to solstice. Things just grow so incredibly fast it can feel like science fiction. The potatoes and tomatoes both are starting to flower, the broccoli is unstoppable, the raspberries are loaded with ripening fruit, the garlic is getting scapey. 

I'm keeping an eye on the circle garden, and pulling Bishop's weed sprouts daily. I've planted a bunch of new things that seem happy. This is the one spot I have growing conditions other than part shade/shade, and I'm a little trigger happy about making it count. I have chamomile and hyssop and rudbeckia and amaranth and cupid's dart and avens and creeping phlox and lavender. And so many others. So exciting to watch it all fill in. 
So that's the garden news. Now, for the fertilizer story.

When I was a kid, my dad kept a 50-gallon steel drum on a sawhorse in which he made cow manure tea, to use as fertilizer. Let it steep for a few weeks or a few days, decant into a watering can, and presto. So the theory went. Maybe the system was pressed into service regularly when I was too young to remember, but in my recollections now the thing served more as a leaf trap, mosquito breeding ground, and curiosity than a fertilizer brewery.
This spring, I wanted to make some fertilizer for my fruit trees-- to give them a boost-- and figured there had to be an easier way. Turns out, there is. For about six weeks, I've been making two small batches a week, and this is it: take an empty five-gallon bucket, fill it two-thirds full with grass clippings, and add water to the brim. Let it sit three days. Pour off into another bucket, or a watering can, leaving the soggy mess of grass behind. Water plants. The end.
Here now, I present to you, the proof of the pudding. Tomato one, on left, was given fertilizer a week ago. Tomato two was given fertilizer two weeks ago. A five-gallon batch of fertilizer was enough to water 30 out of 34 tomato plants, you see, so four plants had to wait another week to get their nitrogen fix. 

The day I walked out to the garden, looked at the tomato plants, and realized what was going on, I was in a state of semi-shock. Like, I expected the fertilizer to work, but not like a box of Miracle Gro! Why on earth would anybody buy that stuff, when just about everyone has grass clippings, and an old bucket, and water. 

I'm sure the fertilizer would work on anything, not just vegetables and fruit trees. Be careful applying it, as it can "burn" tender new leaves if applied directly. I unscrew the sprinkler top from my watering can, so I can deliver the fertilizer right to the roots of each plant. 
And by the way, I got my fertilizer recipe from this Mother Earth News article right here. Enjoy!
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Band wifing

People lining up to get in before their set. 

This weekend The Band and Its Wives journeyed downstate to that festival they won the opportunity to play at a few weeks ago. (I wrote about all that at the bottom of this post.) From meeting in a diner parking lot at 7am on a Saturday to discovering the band tent full of fresh fruit, snacks, and cold beer, the whole day was full of new experiences.
We arrived at the fest at about 8:30. Tumbleweed Highway didn't start until noon, and already people were lining up. The guys went off to load their gear. Wait, scratch that. The guys went off to direct the hired crew where to put their gear. This was the first time ever Patrick did not have to hoist his 75-lb pedal steel onto stage himself. The wives investigated hospitality, where we had access to three free very tasty meals, clean, well-lighted bathrooms, and our own private tent, as mentioned above.

The band tent at hospitality.

We could all get used to this kind of treatment.

The guys on stage.

We had access to the VIP section, where we could watch their set.

The crowd. 

I couldn't believe how many people were there. The guys are used to playing for maybe 450 people at a good bar gig or a well-attended upstate festival. But this was unreal. And they were on the JumboTron. Unreal. 
We spent most of the rest of the day hanging out in our band tent, or on the deck nearby, from which we could hear the main stage perfectly, and look down upon The Masses, and generally feel special. 
I was able to persuade Patrick to ride the chair lift with me. The fest was at a ski resort, so-- of course-- the lift was open for joy rides. Pretty neat.

We were here.

This band-wifing business sure has its perks. 
I don't always love that Patrick has weekend commitments most weekends of the year, I don't always love his rehearsal schedule. But in the end, this passion of his adds so much interest to our lives-- he has funny stories to tell when he comes home from those weekend gigs, and sometimes not-so-funny stories, but still, stories. Life with a musician will never be boring, and for that I am so thankful. 

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Getting there

That's the thing about our party. Every spring (so far, at least) there's been a tremendous push to get one project or another done pre-party (first year the cleaning, last year the shed moved, this year the patio), but then once it's over, the whole rest of the summer is there spooled out ahead of us. We don't have any grand ambitious plans for this summer, which is nice, but there are a few things-- a few roof leaks, a considerable quantity of porch-sag, and a few wobbly foundation stones-- that need to be addressed. Those will be weekend jobs to tag-team, but during weekdays I've been trying to devote myself at least partly to the house exterior. The above picture was taken May 31st. 

I worked hours bubbling the old paint off those spindles with a heat gun. Then, scraping. Then, I primed. Now it's ready for colors.

Please don't mind the flamingos. I don't know if it's a national thing, but our chapter of Students Against Drunk Driving sends pink flamingos to peoples' lawns, then you have to pay "ransom" (donate) to get them removed. And if you donate, you get to name the next "victim," which is just so much fun. Pretty clever.

Anyway, this morning the sun is (blessedly) shining, for a change, and I'm going to get out there just as soon as I send this off. Oh, and finish my tea. And shake some more sleep out of my head. This is the time of year I have a really hard time getting enough sleep-- I can't fall asleep until nearly midnight, and can't stay asleep much past sunrise. 

Good thing the world outside is so dang beautiful. Oh, June.

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Historic West Side Home with Fireplace

Don't miss this beautiful single-family home in the Abel Bennett Historic District of Binghamton, NY!
Features include:

• Spacious, private, second-story porch
• Full modern bath remodeled in 2010
• New hardwood flooring downstairs
• Quiet neighborhood convenient to bus line, Rec Park, amenities
• Architectural features like leaded glass windows, coffered ceilings, and original built-in cabinets
• Large, bright kitchen with breakfast area
• Master bedroom with walk-in closet, attached porch space, and new laminate flooring
• Maintenance-free ventless gas fireplace insert

Specs:

• Three bedrooms plus office space
• 1.5 bathrooms
• Forced hot air heat. High-efficiency furnace.
• 2100 sf plus walk-up attic
• Built in 1889
• New backyard privacy fence
• Detached one-car garage original to house
• Open, spacious downstairs layout

Contact: Patrick and Kristina Strain, 607-244-9351

It is NOT okay to contact us for advertisement or commercial reasons.

This home is for sale by owner and will be shown by appointment only. All information contained herein was obtained from sources deemed reliable, but no warranty is intended, expressed, or implied. Equal Housing Opportunity.

Regular blog readers: sorry to be using this space for something so promotional! I wanted to have a website address to list in our real estate ad. Tomorrow it's back to usual. And hey, if you know anybody looking for a house in Binghamton...

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Garden update

This is when it all starts to get good. Last night we ate these amazing things, with broccoli and spinach and kale from the garden. And Sunday we ate big plates of salad-- spinach, lettuce, beet thinnings-- with deviled eggs. Eggs and greens, greens and eggs. It must be June.

You may notice from the above picture that all the bishop's weed is gone from the circle garden. At least from this distance, it appears that way, but the rest of the summer will require near-daily vigilance to ensure any sprouts that emerge don't spread to conquering capacity. And there will surely be sprouts. Yesterday I was crawling around in the mud with a trowel forking pesky little volunteers out of the ground. 

After a very slow and bumpy start this spring, finally everything is thriving. Squash, cucumbers, beans, tomatoes, peppers. Potatoes. Everything. This weekend I led many many party guests through the garden, everyone exclaiming and showering compliments. The compliments were nice, don't get me wrong, but felt beside the point. Also, I felt myself being pedestal-ized when I'm still honestly a novice. It's hard to really wrap my head around, but all of this work? The fancy brick paths and raised beds and picturesque-ness of the whole thing? I did it for me. I did it to satisfy a nearly lifelong longing for that feeling. That look around and smile and sigh and think, we are fed, and this is pretty. 

The food and the flower beds, on the other hand... I was all too happy to receive compliments for those things. Oddly. The vegetable garden is simultaneously the least private and most private place here-- closest the street but most fiercely mine. Maybe, just a place to scratch my only-child itch. 

This is not to say I rue those compliments. Compliments are kind, and welcome-- but they also come from distance. Compliments are shouted across a fence, the divide between understanding and good manners. When you don't know what else to say, you offer a compliment. Someday, someday soon, I want to lead garden tours where people are asking about mulching, talking about their own soil, their own crops. Speaking the language of growing things, so we can celebrate it together, from even footing on the same side of the fence.

Ok, musing over.

This picture is for Steph.
Now that everything-- save for late plantings of cucumbers and bush beans-- is in the ground and mulched (mostly) I can turn away for a hot minute and do other things. I am trying to get back to working on our house exterior, but now it insists on raining five days a week. It took a few good downpours to sate the bitterness over last summer's drought, I'll be honest, but now I am ready for things to dry out for five days so progress can be made. There's really no such thing as perfect weather, is there?

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House party

We had a terrific party. True to form, I was so busy hosting I didn't take any pictures. I barely had time to eat-- I'd sit down with a plate, take a bite, and see good friends coming down the driveway. How could I stay sitting at a time like this?! We had gray though mostly dry weather, and at least as many guests as last year. The party is in its third year, and some continuity is developing among the regulars. My parents and my aunt and Patrick's parents are getting to know the town. College friends meet band friends. Everyone brings amazing food; we always end up with more wine leftover than we purchased for the occasion; family and friends alike take turns putting out more food, clearing plates, and washing dishes. For me, the day is a whirlwind of meeting and greeting, refilling glasses, and conducting garden tours. 
This year it wrapped up with a campfire group sing led by our friends the Schwarzanses, an eight-member family who loves to sing as much as I do. We sang Amazing Grace and If I Had a Hammer and Free Falling and All I Want is You, from Juno. It was awesome.
Sunday we treated ourselves (and our heads) gently, cleaned up, mowed, and took Del swimming. If there were any doubts as to his golden retriever lineage, this should pretty well put them to rest. What a water dog. Oh, and naturally, of course, Delmer was the absolute life of the party. As we expected.
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Five years

This morning, I woke up, as I usually do, to Patrick getting out of the shower and rummaging for his clothes. Heaven-sent is the husband whose wife is allowed to marinate in bed while he gets dressed for work. Usually he makes a great playful show of trying to smack me with his belt, talks to the dog about something philosophical, and fills me in on the revelry that filled his prior evening. This is our morning ritual. There are familiar refrains, such as "Because you were being jerky," and, "But I'm a nice Plathy!" (He calls me Plathy.) This morning he informed me he was going to be wearing "Delmer-skin pants" to work, and proceeded to put the imaginary pants on, one leg at a time, accompanied by woofing sound effects. And I rolled over to hide my smile, and tried to remember what my life was like before I had a man in it who could make me belly laugh before 8AM.
I couldn't remember. I couldn't imagine that, as joyous as my single life could sometimes be, that it was ever as full with fun and humor as my life is now. And I was thankful.
Later, after I had gotten up and made tea, Patrick called from his drive to work to wish me Happy Anniversary. I had completely forgotten. 
Funny though, isn't it, those grateful thoughts that filled my head before I'd shaken off the sleep-grog enough to realize that it was, in fact, our anniversary. Half a decade. Half a damn decade. So much of the hard stuff is behind us, and so much of the good stuff is still ahead. I love that feeling. This morning, as I'm baking cheesecake and making sandwiches for our party, I am going to hold that feeling as present as I possibly can in my head. This marriage is good, and happy, and we are so lucky.

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