Belated Fireworks

For your enjoyment.
Cold and windy fireworks.

Of abundance and deprivation

Last year, I joined a CSA for the summer.
Community Supported Agriculture.
I liked it for several reasons.
* We ate lots more vegetables than usual.
* We discovered some new favourites, like fava beans and fresh garbanzo beans.
* Jeff got to eat beets. Who even knew that he liked them?
* I got to share vegetables with my friends.
* The produce was organic.
* It felt good to be supporting a local farmer, as opposed to the giant subsidized conglomerates.
* It made me feel "green," and you all know how much I enjoy that! I practically oozed smugness.

BUT....
(No big but jokes here please)
...it was very expensive and I couldn't choose our week's portions.
Too many stinkin' beets.

So, this year I joined a local co-op farm.
The Mustard Seed, formerly of Newberg (to which we belonged one summer years ago) and now of St. Paul.
Only six miles away by Screamer.
Or Jeff's new Sebring.


For only $20 and 24 hours of work, we can take all the vegetables that we want.
Plus a smattering of select fruits.
Much more suited to my frugality.
The plan was that we would ride out to the farm on the Screamer every Saturday morning, put in an hour or two of work, and ride home with our bounty of fresh, organic vegetables. By the end of summer we would have hard, healthy, bodies and have so much energy that we wouldn't be able to stand ourselves.
Hmm.
We did ride the bike once.
Usually we're too tired from our other activities, or too short on time.
Then, the second time we went, we hoed beets for two hours.
The next day I was in agony.
I aggravated an elbow injury from falling off my bike last summer.
Now I have lateral epicondylitis.
Tennis elbow.
Last time I played tennis was almost 40 years ago.
Unfair, I cried, to no avail.
Physical therapy, here I come.
Again.

So.
Jeff has become a fan of the farm.
While we work together, we discuss politics and other weighty topics.
Yesterday, I told Jeff my theory of how small, co-op farms might be the saving of America. Just think how much healthier people would be if they joined farms instead of getting food stamps. Helping themselves, instead of waiting for the government to take care of them. There are indications that this model of farming is growing in popularity, as young people feel a need to get back to the land. They are leading the quest for more sustainable farming practices and less contaminated food sources. Here is a good website if you want to read more on the topic.

My friends and I lamented the loss last year of Pihl Orchards in Dundee.
It was owned by an elderly Swedish (I think) couple who had been farming it for 20 years. We were taking our kids there to pick blueberries and peaches for almost as long. Arne Pihl was 90 last time we asked. Summer wasn't summer without at least a couple of trips to Pihls.
Last year, it was inexplicably gone.
No blue road sign: Pihl Orchards.
No hand-made sign on the corner: Peaches for sale.
I finally drove down the gravel road to try to solve the mystery.
The barn where Mrs. Pihl weighed the fruit and you could pour yourself a drink of ice cold water from the fridge was gone.
The house was spiffed up.
No "u-pick" sign.
I wanted to cry.
It took a year to ferret out the news.
Pihls had been bought out by the local land baron and the fruit was going to canneries.

Oregon is u-pick heaven.
Let's hope there are enough hard-working souls of the younger variety who will carry on the tradition.
Hats off to the farmers of the world!

Free Chocolate

Don't say I never tell you anything useful.
Go here every Friday morning until September 25th and you can register for a coupon for a free chocolate bar from Mars.
Registration begins at 9am et and they give away 250,000 coupons a week.
Hint: if you have more than one email address register more than once.

Tuesday in the Park

Jeff and I were both tired on Tuesday night.
Long days for both of us.
He, in the trenches at Tyco, and me, teaching piano.
But we had A PLAN.
We rode the Screamer down to Quizno's (for some delicious torpedoes) and then to the park by the library for a free concert.
A blanket, a good book each, and our torpedoes.
We took off our shoes and chilled.
The band was average.
The temperature was balmy.


I think we both snoozed a little.
We'll be there most Tuesday evenings if you're looking for us.

One way to eat a cone

Jon and his family came over the other day. He works long graveyard shifts at Intel so we don't see them very often. It was a sunny afternoon so I fed them icecream. It was the first ever icecream cones for Tommy and Jeff.

Jeff wasn't quite sure how to eat his, he started from the side.


Tommy has an appetite like his Dad.
Almost non-existent.
But he made a fairly good job of polishing his off, after a rather hesitant start.


Jonnie preferred his in a bowl.


After I snapped this, he took a much worse photo of me with his phone.
Threatened to send it to people as yet un-named.

Smile!

Strangely related to the last post is this little movie, courtesy of my friend Ellen's Facebook wall.
If you take the time to watch it, you will LOVE IT!


Go on, SMILE already!

On Artlessness

I was blessed with another Joshie day today.

I love all of my grandkids.
But there's something about having Josh for the day that tugs my heartstrings.
Bearing in mind that the reason he came over was that Bethany said she couldn't stand him for one more day!
I have decided that I love his artlessness.
Definition: lack of deceit, cunning, or craftiness. Naturalness, simplicity.
He is two, going on three, and you never have to wonder what Josh is thinking or feeling.
When he's mad, he glares at you or throws things or screams.
When he's happy, he grins gleefully, like this....


And when he is here on his own with me, he is happy 100% of the time.
Except for today; he refused to speak to me for the first 30 minutes.

My feelings for Josh and the identification of the reason for them have set me to examining my own attitudes towards emotional honesty.
I like to know what I'm getting.
No false compliments for me, please.
No insincere praise.
Tell it like it is.
Or don't say anything.

The English rarely indulge in gratuitous flattery and are suspicious of those who do. I lived there for my first eleven years, which was apparently long enough to imprint my psyche. It has been a bit of a social impediment for me in these United States, where I have observed that people like to be well thought of and will often say gracious things in order to be so. I, in contrast, find it physically impossible to say one thing while thinking the polar opposite. My facial expression betrays me.
I have been quite righteously proud of this trait in myself.
No hypocrisy here!
But over the years I have learned the value of being subtle.
You don't have to lie in order to be kind.
A few friendships would have suffered less had I learned that principle at an earlier age.
So, while total lack of artifice is still my ideal, it will be tempered with some attempts at delicacy.

Disclaimer:
I hope my American readers won't abandon me for these opinions.
It is my personal experience and may not be universal.
But as I think about it, I tend to surround myself with people who will be direct and honest with me. If you know me at all, I have probably asked you at some time for the unvarnished truth. So, if you're reading this, it probably doesn't apply to you.