the spring garden

A homegrown Bent Barrow carrot. (He was delicious.)

I've tried following the seed catalogues' advice about spring gardening, faithfully sowing my little vegetables in trays indoors each February. This hasn't gone well. Through some combination of lumpy homemade seedling mix (I never do screen it, despite advice, and I think that's come back to bite me) and bad weather luck (the June Monsoon is real!), I've often lost most of my more delicate seedlings by early summer. Despite the success I've had transplanting vegetables with my farmer friends John (of Whidbey) and Billy (of Wickersham), both of whom have taught me much, it turns out that my seedlings aren't as strong. This year, I think I will start some trays indoors but I'll do it by the book—I'll follow a recipe, buy the right organic amendments, and screen my potting mix.

I've tried following the much more regionally-specific advice issued in that bible of Northwest vegetable gardeners, the Seattle Tilth's Maritime Northwest Gardening Guide, and that's generally gone better. I've tried carefully plotting my sowing schedule, making beautiful color-coded spreadsheets during the last days of January to see me through September and beyond. I've tried journaling my garden successes and failures. All of it tends to come to naught by June or July, when my interest in the garden is limited to eating its bounty and doing the bare minimum to keep the weeds at bay. It's not my only, or my favorite, obligation, and as much as I am an expert at loving gardens, I am still learning to love gardening.

This year, I'm trying something new. I'm gardening when the whim strikes me, in little bursts of brief, satisfying effort. I'm looking at the garden as a quilt, a patchwork of small opportunities to improve small areas. I'm facing our 1600 square feet of weedy spring soil one square yard at a time, and I'm actually enjoying it.

Lest you misunderstand, 75% of the garden bounty we usually enjoy is the result of my husband's labor, and I don't mean to suggest that I've done any of it alone. I've only agonized, alone, about how to do it better. I'm great at gardening on paper, while he's great at gardening in earth. This spring, I feel ready to take up more of the load.

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Here are the Cloud Dog's X-Rays

Here, for your edification, are the X-rays of dear Paisley's leg. There is, apparently, no new break (since his Monday siezure) but there is, of course, a great deal of abnormality caused by years of living with a shortened ulna. His pronounced lameness, the vet says, may temporarily improve. Unlike me, Fenway Bartholomule, poor cloud dog can't expect much in the way of a full recovery. Not having the $$$$ for surgery to fuse the joint, we are working on making some sort of rigid splint to support the limb and prevent further degeneration. That is, the humans (with their space-age material inventions and their opposable thumbs) are working on making a splint; I am working on giving cloud dog brayful looks of support and encouragement every time he totters into the yard to relieve himself. As always, he fears me (me?!) and keeps his distance. Ears to you, Fenway

Continued . . .

Vegan Spring Rolls

I, Fenway Bartholomule, am a vegan: of course I only eat plants, not people! My human is too, so I'm sharing my blog with her today so that she can participate in the 2014 Virtual Vegan Potluck ! When you're done perusing the recipe for these delicious spring rolls, click "back" or "forward" for the entire potluck experience! Virtual Vegan Potluck: Spring Roll Appetizers Beautiful? Check. Healthy? Check. Delicious? Check. Easy? Check. Fancy? Check. Quick to clean up after? Check. Vegan? OF COURSE! If you're looking for something portable, colorful, and crowd-pleasing for your next potluck, look no further than these simple vegan spring rolls! The best part? You can substitute ANYTHING. I never make these the same way twice, so play around with cilantro, kale, cabbage, scallions, or whatever you think sounds good! Ingredients Veggie mix: 2 carrots (grated) 4 oz mung bean sprouts 1/3 cup chopped peanuts (raw, or roasted and salted) or ...

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The Scoop on Bird

Human here, to give you the scoop on Songbird. He is shiny, sweet, and wonderful . . . and a little bit broken hearted. (Fenway was once, too.) As I've gotten to know him more over the last month, I've come to understand that he associates humans with unpleasantness, at least, and suffering, at worst. He has some gnarly scars. He flinches away from touch, though he warms up quickly when treats are involved. He's quite a foodie. He's easily startled. He's alert, and vigilant. He doesn't always feel safe. He also really likes it at my mom's house, which has a slower pace than the wonderful boarding and lesson barn where he lived in June. He appreciates the predictable routine, the long quiet afternoons, and the retired horses who give him company. He has flattened the grass under the big cedar out back and created nests to rest in. The soft footing at my mom's is better for his newly bare feet. He is starting to believe he'll be ok. I have ridden him...

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One person I miss

I have the best of friends around me here at this new home! I have my human Granny and Gruncle (is he a grandpa? Is he an uncle? I'm not sure), I have a horse companion beside me and two other horse companions a little further down the row, and I have a wonderful assortment of ponies, miniature horses, and miniature mules darting about and making adorable little sounds with their adorable little faces at all hours of the day and night. It's really quite lovely. I have chickens and rabbits and cats to befriend, and I have visits from the Woman and her blue dog. My friend Scotty, who lives on my right, is a wise old chestnut with a soothing presence. My friend Cadbury, who lives on my left, is a fiery miniature stallion (a rescue, for whom gelding was medically contraindicated) who ensures our life is never boring. I miss one person from the boarding barn—a sweet little girl who was the very first person I came to trust in that new place. She was kind to me from the outset, an...

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BRAYS OF OUR LIVES

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