Stink bugs enjoying their daily meal.

In some ways, doing things organically is easy, such as buying a better product. In other ways, it’s really fraking hard, such as growing your own food, especially when your garden is irresistable to insect life.

I planted 9 tomato plants of various types. So far, I think 5 or 6 cherry tomatoes have been harvested that are edible.

Oh, quite a few tomatoes have grown, and quite a few are “on the vine,” so to speak. Lots of lovely fruit growing, lots of red bursting forth from among the green. It’s all so lovely, actually, that stink bugs moved in, and they’re eating every tomato that tries to grow.

How does one deal with this problem? Well, from what I have found, you pretty much have to do it by hand. Get a coffee can, put in soapy water or honey or something to trap the suckers, and flick them off one by one into the can, and dispose of as you will. Besides the fact that I really dislike killing things (yeah yeah yeah a bit pathetic in this case, but it’s true), I simply don’t have time every day to hunt through all the plants and pick off bugs. So I’ve sort of left them to it, grateful that they’re not eating the peppers or blueberries or herbs.

This experience has taught me a few things. First of all, it has taught me that gardening isn’t as simple as I’d used to think. My mom always had a veggie garden and made it look so easy; I’ve always only had flower gardens, and their care comes naturally to me, so I figured veggies would be just as easy. But when a lush vegetable garden starts to be undermined by all manner of insects—plants start to wither, turn yellow, look sickly and chewed up—the sense of helplessness is real. What can I do? Not much, for a part-time gardener. I can’t spray something on the plants to get rid of all the insects; I don’t want anything that can kill on my food. I can’t spend all day removing pests. All I can do is try to learn what I can about preventing the problems next time, and move on.

Which brings me to the second thing I’ve learned: organic farmers must be descended from gods. I’m a hell of a lot more appreciative of them than I was before, and I was really appreciative before! People who deal with things like insects invading their crop and needing to save a harvest and growing enough to feed themselves & thousands more and everything else farmers do have my utmost respect, admiration, and love. I am so beyond grateful that they do what they do that I’m almost fangirlish about it.

And the third thing I’ve learned is that while wanting to be more personally independent/self-reliant is a great idea in theory, the truth is that there is only so much we can do for ourselves, and that’s ok. It’s ok that we’re dependent upon each other. I look for the things I can do more self-reliantly, such as using self-powered devices and less electricity, but other things I’ll always rely on others for, such as food, but that’s ok—I just need to rely on people I trust to provide it. “It takes a village” and all that, and I want to build a village I feel secure in. In order to do that, I buy food I trust, real food, from companies I believe in. From the organic farmers I treasure.

So while I’m a bit saddened every day when I’m in my gardens and see the bugs feasting away, I remember that they’ve actually taught me to be more grateful for the real food community that’s out there. I don’t have to do this alone, and that’s an incredibly comforting thought.

One thing I loved to study back in grad school was symbolism. I was working toward an English M.A., and while most people don’t realize it, such a course of study involves a lot of theory in various topics such as sociology, communication, gender issues, politics, etc. This is because language crosses all those lines, and when you start to really delve into the written word, you delve into all sorts of topics such as who wrote the words, why they wrote them, when did they write them, what was the purpose, did the author realize how the words might be interpreted, etc etc etc. It really gets you thinking about the power of words and how that power is enacted all around us, most obviously in advertising. This then leads to discussions of symbolism, and how powerful symbols can convey as much as a bookful of words (“an image is worth a thousand words,” indeed). As I’ve mentioned recently on this blog, The Matrix is my all-time favorite movie, and one reason for that is that it is chock-full of potent symbolism. Gimme a good image to ponder over and wonder at, and I can happily discuss it for hours (and have, on many occasions, over good wine or good coffee).

Over the past couple of years, my interest in symbolism has had less to do with technology and cyberculture theory and more to do with the opposites of those: what do we do without as much technology and ideas about “small community” theory (to give it a totally arbitrary name). People made do for eons without the things we now think of as “necessary” for life, and there is a possibility we might one day need to do without them once more (whether from no more oil, or insanely expensive oil, or just not enough income, or no income at all…many possibilities). But even if you don’t think we’ll ever be without our current way of life, we are very definitely slowly losing food safety and control, and one way I plan to regain control of my food is by growing it and preserving it. Contaminated spinach? Not from my backyard, thankyouverymuch.

In order to keep my own food (and selectively-purchased bulk items), I need jars. Lots of jars. And what kind of jar do people use for such things? Mason jars, of course. And because I can’t help it—I suppose I was brainwashed trained too well in grad school—I start thinking more and more about the humble little Mason jar. And I start to see a very powerful symbol.

When you think of Mason jars, you might think of things like preserves and homemade salsa and homemade pickles. You might think of grandmothers. You might think of old-time farming or farm kitsch or blue-collar-ness. Maybe you think of “poor” people, since why would someone bother canning or storing things when they can just go buy ready-made stuff? And then there are plenty of jokes about rednecks drinking out of Mason jars.

But then if you think about why they often symbolize such things, you start to branch into food issues and sustainability. Mason jars mean food on the shelves long after a harvest. They mean control over what’s in your food. They mean at least a modicum of food independence. They mean an investment that guarantees a return: They’ll last your entire life and they have a million and one uses. They don’t cost much, so even if money is tight a person can acquire a few Mason jars (and even drink out of ‘em, if so inclined). Mason jars symbolize bounty, security, frugality, and dare I say it, hope.

With Mason jars, I hope to preserve the tomato bounty I hope to have (or as a last resort, purchase from local farmers). I need them to hold all the preserves I hope to make using fruit from my neighbor’s trees. I need the jars to hold all the fermented veggies I want to make. I need them for storing things like dry beans, flour, salt. I need them to hold homemade cleaning products. To hold craft items. Every day, I think of a new use for a jar or two.

So why all this deep thought about a simple glass jar? Well, yesterday I was finally able to buy my first cases of Mason jars:

The experience touched a deeper nerve. I went to a local Ace Hardware, a small but locally owned store that has been in business for ages, according to my roommate, and since they’ve managed to survive despite the presence of a ubiquitous Home Depot just a couple of miles away, I plan to start giving Ace as much of my business from now on as possible. The store was full of so many great homemaking goodies, including stuff you just don’t see for sale that much any more anywhere, that I can’t wait to go back and rummage around (for example, they had a dusty stack of cotton-backed, vinyl-topped red check tablecloths, in the pattern you see here as my blog background; I can’t even remember the last time I saw one of those for sale, at least in my area. Notice I mentioned a dusty stack; I wonder how long they’ve had them in stock. No matter. *I* plan to take one home, very soon).

When I got to the isle with the canning jars, I was just giddy. Jars and rings and lids, oh my! I quickly nabbed a case of quart, pint, and 4 oz jars, the first two the wide-mouth variety. I happily took my stack of jars to the checkout counter and carefully set them up on it. An elderly gentleman checking out ahead of me glanced at them, realized what they were, and exclaimed, “I didn’t think anyone canned any more!” I smiled and said, “Oh, definitely!” What ensued was a brief discussion between us and the check out woman:

(Note: This is as close to what was said as I can remember, and I’m sure I left some bits out, but you can still get the gist of it.)
Checkout woman: “Ooooh yeah people still can, absolutely!”
Man: “My goodness, that reminds me of my grandmother! She’d spend days canning!”
Me: “Yeah, so did my great-grandmother, and my grandmother & mom both canned.”
Man: “Oh no, not my mother, no way. Just my grandmother. She lived on a farm.”
Checkout woman: “You don’t need a farm to can! No way. You can have a garden anywhere!”
Man (looking disappointed): “Not where I live. If one blade of grass is out of line…! Those homeowners associations will get you! They’re horrible!”
Me: “That is horrible! It’s not right. Stuff like that…it’s horrible that anyone ever goes hungry when there are so many useless yards around.”
Checkout woman: “I don’t have no use for a yard. Just gimme plants!”
Me: “They’re usually prettier than a yard, anyway!”
Checkout woman: “Yeah they are.”
Man: (Nodding in agreement, looking pleasantly surprised by the conversation)

I thought about that man and about the jars as I drove away from the store. I thought about how the jars had sparked memories for him, and about all the implications of an elderly man thinking “nobody canned anymore.” I like to think that the discovery that people still grow and can their own food, even in the suburbs/city (or especially in the suburbs/city), gives him some kind of hope for the future. I think this because the older I get, the more I get irritated and disgusted with so much of society, and the more I understand why older generations don’t think much of my generation. And when I see people a generation younger than me who are trying to do things differently, it gives me a glimmer of hope that it’s not all lost. So maybe, just maybe, the smile on that gentleman’s face meant that he had a moment of realizing that there are still people around who care about better ways of doing things, and that there are still glimmers of hope in unlikely places.

All from a stack of Mason jars.

Marigold babies, survivors of the frost that killed the “parent” plant

This post originally appeared on my other blog, Avidly Dreaming.

I thought I’d become a more patient person. After years of doing whatever I could to not wait for things, the past couple of years I have mellowed and learned to wait. Until this year, of course, when I am planning an entire urban homestead scheme. When I have no choice but to be patient, I find myself often chomping at the bit. I want my raised beds done & ready. I want to stop buying organic produce & just go out & harvest my own. I want to stop buying herbs & go out & harvest my own. I want my own compost. IwantIwantIwant…

Uh huh. Anyone who also gardens and/or homesteads probably understands this strong desire, and even if you don’t garden or homestead, you know where this is heading: There ain’t no such thang as “hurry up” when you’re doing things this way.

Yesterday my roommate helped me and we made more progress on the back yard. The laundry lines were moved to their new spot (to make room for the raised beds), stepping stones were moved and put to use (to make way for a planting area), a few more plants were moved/repotted. And after two days of moving around heavy things & bending & pulling, I’m really worn out! It’s going to take time to get myself back into shape for yardwork.

The laundry poles in their new place. You can see to the left in the pic where some raised beds will be. And bonus is that the laundry lines now get an hour or two of more sun each day…yay for longer drying times!

Since both my roommate and myself are on very small budgets, we have to acquire supplies for the gardens as we can. We’ve going to get the borders & soil for one raised bed at a time, and hopefully have all four ready in March. Then we’ll plant, and away we go. Which means, of course, that none of my own food will be ready until summer. Aaaagghhh! Here’s where patience needs to kick in. It’s not like I don’t have many, many other things that need doing and will fill up the time. And I know that once the gardens are in full swing, adding care of them to my other list of “jobs” will be at times frustrating. I know all that, but it’s not denting one whit my wish that I could snap my fingers and have them going.

With regard to the plants themselves, I had planned to buy organic/heirloom seeds from a favorite supplier, including several herb varieties as I plan to start more in-depth study this year of herbalism & herbal healing. Then lo & behold, this weekend I unearthed a box of seeds from the back room that I’d bought perhaps 2-3 years ago…seeds I’d forgotten I still had…and I gleefully pulled the box out of its hiding place. I have a lot of seeds in there:

And I’m going to plant every dang one. Will any of them germinate? I’m betting that at least some of them do. And if a 4,000 year old lentil seed can germinate, then surely a bunch of my “old” seeds will, too. Happily, herb seeds are now one less thing I have to wait for.

Before I end this post, I want to leave you with a couple of cute pics I took yesterday. Just before moving the laundry poles, I found a lizard hanging out in one of them, just checking out the scene from his high perch. He scooted back in when we started moving the pole, and never jumped out. Once the pole was in its new position & in the ground, I waited a bit, and sure enough, he poked his head back out once more:

Yes, I custom-ordered the sky to be Just That Pretty as a photo background.

And of course I had to see how close he’d let me get…

A bit later my roommate actually “scratched” his “chin,” and he licked the end of her finger. It was so cute. But after a while of me taking pics, he’d finally had enough, eyed the fence, and made a jump for it. I’m hoping he comes back soon.

Happy Monday…here’s to a productive, and patient, week.

This post originally appeared on my other blog, Avidly Dreaming.

Two of my three January self-challenges are going along swimmingly. So far, line-drying my clothes and not using the dryer is no big deal. Switching to real foods is easy and yummy. But the no-TV challenge? I voluntarily broke that one last night.

It’s not that I wanted to watch anything specific on TV. I didn’t. It’s just that I have realized that after a day of working alone in silence (my preference), I like to turn on the TV in the evening as background noise and as way to separate the night from the day. Pretty kooky, I know, but there it is. And until I live closer to (or have closer to me) a group of friends I can regularly spend time with in the evenings (mine are currently scattered around the country), I spend a lot of time on my own. I don’t mind it, I really don’t; I prefer it, actually. But going several days with no TV made me realize that I use the TV as a “connection” to the rest of the world. Apparently I don’t mind being alone most of the time as long as I can maintain a tenuous connection to the outside world (and it seems the internet is not enough).

I’m allowing myself to turn the thing on at night. I do still mute almost all commercials, though…man those things drive me nuts.

In real food trials, I have to report that a couple of recipes by Ree, The Pioneer Woman, turned out beyond just good–they were insanely good. As in gobble all the food up good. As in wait-what-about-my-food-budget-this-can’t-be-one-meal-only good. And while Ree isn’t a real food advocate or practitioner, her recipes are easily adapted to be so, and then one can just dive right in to the yumminess.

Like her meatballs recipe…I made them twice, within days! Used organic/real ingredients, and omitted a couple of the sauce ingredients since didn’t have them…the results were beyond good, and the reason I had to make them again is that between my roommate and myself, these suckers were gone in two days!

Mmmmm! Man I’m hungry just looking at this.

My roommate made the Simple Hearty White Chili (she cooked a whole chicken, made a bone broth to use as stock, had insanely yummy meat). She ended up with a huge pot-full, and it lasted about two days. *sheepish grin*(You’d think we’d were starving around here. Although actually, we are starved for nutrients, so it does make sense…)

If you’re wanting some new recipes to try, please go try these or anything else on Ree’s site. Her instructions could not be more clear—she photographs every step; seriously, every step. I am so getting her cookbook as soon as I can. (And if you have the time…read her account of how she met her husband. Best romance I’ve read in years.)

Both recipes are nice and warm and filling, perfect for the wonderful winter weather we’ve been having in Florida. Well, I think it’s wonderful, but I know I’m an itty bitty minority around here. This morning we had sleet! Bast has been doing her typical fort & nest building in blankets to stay warm:

Awwwwww.

Speaking of blankets, thanks to the ever-wonderful Vanessa and her post about her colorful blanket-in-progress, I am about ready to finally start my “self-trust” blanket sooner rather than later (maybe even tonight). Why do I call it my self-trust blanket? Well, I was inspired by a quote from a blog, but I can’t remember where I got the quote from, and until I do, I won’t repeat the quote. Actually, I am now calling it my “self-trust enchilada blanket!” The enchilada part is from Vanessa, who described wrapping up “like an enchilada” in her blanket. I love that description so much that I am totally adopting the term.

I decided to make the blanket last January and started getting some deliciously-colorful wool yarn, including some that is handmade & hand-dyed (from Etsy):

Isn’t it gorgeous? The color…

Srsly gorgeous. I get punch-drunk on vivid jewel tones like these.

But those pics are all that there is of the blanket so far, lol. Skeins of pretty yarn. I almost don’t want to use them…they’re sooo pretty!

Sigh.

But I will. I’m gonna just jump in and start making the dern thing, and then be wowed at how pretty it is, and take myself to task for waiting so long.

Of course, I won’t finish it until next winter, but man, I’ll be toasty then! If we get more sleet. Or if I’m living somewhere that gets real winter.

Ok, time to get back to other things. Need to work on more bloggie info & updates & rearranging & whatnots, then out into the cold for a few chores, and then back inside to write, create, and maybe…just maybe…crochet!

I hope you have a lovely Saturday & weekend.

This post originally appeared on my other blog, Avidly Dreaming.

New year, new goals, new self-challenges…and already, new things learned. Since I hope I’ll be learning a lot of new things during this adventure, I decided to start special blog posts about “Things I’ve learned.” I’ll be interested to see how the list grows this year!

So, for this first “TIL” post, I have learned…

• When line-drying laundry, one must remember to take into account the size of one’s laundry lines. I’m so used to doing large loads of laundry, instead of smaller ones, but today when I went out to hang my first full load to line-dry, a fairly small load, as I started hanging I realized that I was going to run out of line room! Sure enough, several items had to end up hung in the bathroom to dry. Whoops.
• When line-drying laundry, one must plan ahead to wash laundry early enough in the day so that it gets enough hours of sun to fully dry. As I thought over what I needed to do today, I realized that laundry was on the list. “Oh good,” says I, “I can start my line-dry challenge!” I started doing other things, as I usually do laundry in the afternoon. Then I realized that I’d better do laundry first, the earlier the better, if I wanted to actually have time for the clothes to dry by sundown. No more doing laundry at 9 pm for me.
• Vinegar takes out clothing dye that bleeds onto other clothing. It might not work all the time, and it might only work with certain kinds of dyes & fabrics, I have no idea. All I know is that a few days ago, I tossed a pair of turquoise socks into my wash load; a new pair. Yeah, yeah, not too bright, huh? (Pardon the pun!) But I always use cold wash water, and I’ve not had anything bleed in so long that I can’t even remember when it ever did. But those socks? Ooooh heck yeah, they left their little turquoise footprints on several items of clothing—favorite items, and I was upset when I saw the damage. Roomie suggested a few things, then said to try vinegar, since it couldn’t hurt. I must have had a look on my face of “er, I’ll try actual soap, thanks” because she got a determined look on her face, grabbed the turquoise-spotted items, marched out to the garage sink, and proceeded to pour vinegar onto the offending dye stains. Sure enough, the color began coming out! She kept at it (as I joked about how an Aries can’t resist a challenge), and soon most of the dye was gone. Even out of the white material! She said to then try running the items through a short wash cycle with just vinegar in the water, so I tried that…and lo & behold, the items came out with not one bit of dye left! I already like to keep vinegar on hand for a bunch of uses (besides eating it, that is ), and now I add one more thing to my reasons-to-keep-vinegar list.

Now that laundry’s drying, time to move on to the rest of the day’s work list. Hope your day is productive, too!