Know what you can do with those growth charts?

daphne on July 15, 2008

They grow so fast. Sure, that’s what they all say but then when I shlep my kids in to the pediatrician she breaks out those charts and explains to me exactly how my little spouts are not measuring up. I feed them, I nap them, I do everything short of putting them on medieval stretcher and pulling but still my kids refuse to register on the charts. Ingrates. Not that I care. I’m over it. (Did that sound convincing? If not I could tell you what I really think of the epidemic of big-mac munching toddlers that are ruining the growth curve for everybody else.)

But again, I digress. My kids are small, be that as it may. For now let’s talk about how much my actual sprouts have grown. The green ones, that is. Here, live from the garden, are results from the 3-month check-up:

The raspberries are a’ripening. So what that my octogenarian neighbor has been harvesting buckets of his dark berries for three weeks now. He’s got all that southern exposure. Besides, my berries are coming, see that one there? It’s too early to worry that there won’t be enough for berry parfaits in January. So nope, I’m not worried.

Besides, check out our baby Georgia peach tree. Yes, that’s right, those tiny nubbers are Georgia peaches. Rock hard, yes, smaller than my fist, sure, but they’re trying, and I’m supporting their valiant, trans-continental effort.

And hey, ten points for our apples. These guys are hanging heavy from every branch. Three years ago we had enough to fill every container we owned with applesauce and keep the family in pies through Thanksgiving. I heard it through the grapevine that apples fruit in spades every three years. And frankly, when it comes to growing apples, who better to trust than a grapevine?

Meanwhile, back in the garden plot, the cucumbers show signs of doing something other than playing dead, and the good-for-nothing lazy squash finally got off its duff and set out some nice dark leaves. Things are going so well that I practically ran out and bought the next size up for my impressive bloomers; that is, until I saw my friend Emily’s veggies. Sigh. I know a mother shouldn’t compare. But seeing her leggy-green bad boys reaching for the stars made my little sprouts seem positively infantile. What? My peas should be fruiting and my squash blossoms full? But it’s only July, and they’re such sweet little leafy things, and they are well adjusted and look she can write her own name and sing the ABCs, and oops, slipped off track again. Sorry.

Squishy squash and belated berries aside, you’ve got to see the tomatoes. Here’s Acadia measuring up (well, not measuring up) against the big bad tomato plants. Yes, those are their leafy limbs crawling sky-ward above her head. And no, I’m not worried that her green cousin towers above her diminutive frame. Why not? I’ll tell you a secret: I filled her bed with compost; so you see, pretty soon she’ll be jetting back up towards that 5th percentile. Besides, I’ve got two months before her five year check-up. And with her toes wiggling in richly composted soil, and all those garden-bound cousins of hers she’ll be consuming, I just know this will be the year she’ll blow those dang charts away.

Nice Trash

daphne on June 15, 2008

Once upon a time a catcall was a catcall. Superficial as it may be, boys, whether in the dorms or on the construction site, whistled at what they saw. And the twisted world made sense.

Now that I’m the resident champion of all things green, things have changed. Last week we had people over for dinner. Neal, my friend’s husband, swaggered into the kitchen and nodded approvingly. Ok, maybe he didn’t swagger, and to be fair there was no waggling eyebrows, but boy oh boy was he impressed:

Nice trash! How can you get away with such a small garbage can?

With pride, we showed off compost heap and recycling bins. Help me; when did my inner dork start roaming freely?

If you’ve known me awhile and are somehow holding on to a vestigial sense of my coolness, you may want to tune out for this next comment:

Our compost pile is super cool.

Not in the same way that two-for-one cosmos are cool. Not like swishing down the slopes sans kids is cool. But as far as back-yard-burb-tales go, we’re not generating a ton o’ trash. Let’s let that be exciting.

OK, you can open your eyes again.Compost Kids

Forget Disney, composting is fun for the whole family! Here are the girls, enthusiastically embracing their newest chore…the dumping o’ the compost.

Look at those smiles. Lucky lucky girls.

Show some respect for peats sake, I’m talking here. There may not be much junk in this old trunk, but you totally just checked out my trash!


Compost Heap! I got a Compost Heap!

daphne on March 30, 2008

Happy Mother’s Day to me! We had been discussing it for a while, (because, whenever there is something to be done there is nothing like good old fashioned conversation to nip it in the bud,) but finally, it happened. My guy, that nutty romantic, built me a compost heap.

In case you’re thinking, what? Why on earth would anyone want a compost heap? Here’s a brief list of the finer points:

  1. It’s good for the earth
  2. It does not smell at all.
  3. Backyard wildlife (we’ve got bunnies, squirrels, birds, toads, etc) are not interested in it.
  4. Oh, the complements you will get. Like this one that had me blushing all green red in the face.

It’s our compost heap, and it’s 100% homemade. Dave followed directions he found on ecocycle, which says that as long as it’s about 3’X3′ and has some open space to allow for air circulation, we’re good to go. Ours is built from old fence posts, leftover deck lumber and some mesh netting from last year’s strawberry patch. Ecocycle has a comprehensive list of what is and is not compostable, but here’s the gist:

Ok to Compost:

  • All vegetable waste (although apparently worms aren’t onion lovers)
  • All garden waste
  • Tea in its bag and coffee in its filter (I figure the caffeine makes the worms go faster, and that’s got to be a good thing)
  • Dryer lint

Not Ok to Compost

  • Proteins (ie, any meat or cheese)
  • Eggs (shells are ok if they are broken up well)
  • Oil

We send the girls out with a little tupperware for the compost heap each evening as one of their allowance-worthy chores. They dump it, and then cover the kitchen waste with a handful of leaves or cut grass. They’re still too small to manage the pitchfork, so every few days farmer Dave heads out to turn the pile. We also water it to keep it slightly damp, which helps the stuff cook down into yummy soil.