There is no hurry in Curry!

This is only the second week of the landscape project, but it feels as though months have passed already. Fortunately for both Hubby and me, we are not new at remodeling/construction projects. We have had plenty of experiences, and can't recall anything in the past that was completed ahead of schedule or under cost.  With the removal of the old septic tank, tasks have had to be postponed and reassigned. With the break-down of machines, delays and extra costs have popped up.


With all the noise and pollution, Newkie the cat huddles by Hubby's desk, right above his computer, a place she had never ventured to before these events, and stays there, alert, as tractor scrapes the driveway or moves rocks and dirt. She  wants to go out of her usual window which happens to face the entire mess. She has tried the back door, but runs into the house as soon as work starts about 8:30 each morning.

 There is a saying in these parts: "There is no hurry in Curry."

Curry County, with few inhabitants, mostly part-timers, and even fewer providers of basic services, seems to be an odd place for people who are used to the hustle and bustle of San Francisco, Los Angeles, New York. It's difficult to get anything done in the time frame most of us anticipate.

Most service people have  the habit of not showing up, not calling, or showing up without calling. We chose well-established contractors. We researched and visited their previous projects in and out of the county, and spoke with clients.  We consulted ahead of time, agreed on a design, on a price, and signed on the dotted line. We know these people well, and we trust them.

Only the weather and breakdowns will inevitably  throw  monkey ranches on the project.

We have two projects going on: The upgrading of the front garden/driveway, and the upgrading of the garden by the lake. By now, I anticipated my vegetables boxes to be in place by the lake behind a deer fence. But the fence posts needed replacing, and when the neighbor saw the work in progress, he informed us that our fence line was incorrect, and proceeded to show the recorded survey of the land. So, the entire side fence needs re-positioning-might as well settle this now and not let this fester any longer-and we can't do that until the lake recedes a yard or two. Now, without a fence one cannot grow anything.

So, everything by the lake has been postponed.

The front garden/driveway is proceeding according to plan, mostly.

Did I mention that the tractor broke, and was fixed, and then broke again, and again?
Did I mention that there are no places nearby to fix these machines, and our contractor/operator spent days working on these repairs?

Hubby reminds me that everyone used to repair their own machines on the farm back in the days when he was a child in Montana. All machines. They built their own whenever necessary. His grandfather strung electric lines, and built  pumps and irrigation channels  to bring electricity and water to his farmhouse.

We have lost these skills now-a-days. Our machines, big or small end up in dumps, or in China, where they are re-purposed.

I'm reminded daily that these views and walks on the beaches are to be enjoyed while the body still moves and the senses are still acute.

Perhaps the saying, there is no hurry in Curry, means  " slow down, enjoy what you have, while you have it, and don't be in a hurry to get to the next stage".

Grape Leaves.

It started with one bare-root stick, a special hybrid grape that promised to do well in this cool,wet climate. It survived. The next season, I bought another. This summer, I will have even more. Grapes may not ripen at all. But the leaves will grow big and sassy in their sheltered spot.

I've been dreaming of this for a while, longer even than a rose garden.
How stubborn we are!

I'm recreating my childhood experiences back in my Italian hometown. Grapes, olives, figs and pomegranate played a big part in our vineyards  Oh, I should be contented with blueberry,  marionberry, cranberry.  Instead, I'm thrilled with all the artichoke plants that grow from the mother root and in a few weeks, I will use the tiny fruit in my spring risotto.

The irony? I didn't like grapes and figs and artichokes when I was young.

Now, I'm imagining an enormous grape arbor, shading tables and chairs for dozens of guests.
A free-standing pizza oven would magically produce the pizza I've been craving for years in a Mediterranean courtyard. Music and song and merry friends will be transported to another place and another time, days of wine and pizza and song and family, all gathered after the harvest.

To people who declare that we shouldn't mess with native ecology, I say, how else will we know if something can survive?
We are all survivors on this big planet, moving from one place to another, not always willingly, always hopeful that something in the new place will remind us of home. You see, we left home in a hurry, and we couldn't dismantle and take it with us!

To those who say that if you don't like it, go back to where you are from, I say, how far back? How many of us can say our ancestors never moved to someplace new? We are all nomads. We are all homeless.

Deep in the recesses of our soul, we crave to recreate that place we call home. We continue to explore and adapt and learn to do without the very things that have shaped us, and at the same time, we surround ourselves with many things that remind us of our real home.

How about you?
How do you surround yourself with reminders of home?

The Seeds of Neglect.

In any corner of the garden there are markers, stumps, vegetation

you planted on purpose, for a desired effect.

The garden will evolve. 

These roses will send out new shoots and

native grasses will spread as far as they can.

A gardener has to be vigilant,

 control invasive plants

 weeds

 insects.

Neglect your garden, and you will have nothing but weeds.

Everything  in life suffers from neglect.

Sometimes, those nasty winds do you a favor!

When winds batter this coast, and dead branches fly all over the yard, I do not panic any more.  All this action will get rid of deadwood, branches that cannot produce fruit or bloom. 

This apple tree has been   duly punished all winter long.  The few branches that remain are full of new blossoms, ready to burst into fruit clusters.

These same winds can throw branches right through the roof. Ouch!

These barren branches will become tepees for my pole beans.

Nothing will go to waste

Everything has a purpose in the big scheme of life.

Learning to do nothing: One lesson at a time.

"UNDE ORIGO UNDE SALUS"

"From the Origin/Earth comes Salvation"

I'm not sure where this quote comes from originally, but I read it lately in a book  titled, Venice is a Fish, by Tiziano Scarpa, 2008.  It talks about the city as an organic entity, embodying its past and its future, dictating how life is lived by its inhabitants.  It is a fascinating read.

I'm telling you this because my adjustment to the new life that on the surface had everything one wants in Paradise, even a walk with that name,  left me longing for something that I could not quite satisfy.

Month after month, year after year, trying different things, I found my source of peace through gardening, observing nature, accepting what was in front of me, reading,  writing, joining the Bandon Writers, the Reading Club, the SMART Program, and running for office. Most of you know that I serve as a Trustee on the local Board of Education. This year starts my second term. 

A word about Nature. I grew up in an era when most people's work was agricultural.  That work was tied to season, weather, wind patterns, natural calamities.  Our very existence depended on forces outside ourselves.  We were responsible for certain parts, at certain precise times; but, the rest was up to bigger powers.  In that setting, we took our job seriously.  When it was time to plant, we planted. When it was time to weed and till, we did those chores.  We anticipated and worked round the clock to beat rainstorms or locusts, or ...We did all we could, when we could.  The rest, we accepted.

I still feel connected to those rhythms.  Working in a garden allows you to dream big, as well as  accept the limitations of your conditions. You clear the land, work in compost, plant, water, weed, and nurture the tiny plants.  But, it is up to the sun to shine, the seeds to sprout, the insects to pollinate.  Some things take a long time.  Some things occurr so fast, they are not visible. Some things depend on dust particles on the wings of butterflies.

We are part of a bigger natural world. Fundamentally, we are 90+ similar to other mammals. Our curiosity, our imagination, our ability to invent has also separated us from our source, our world, our origins. 

When things don't feel right, we need to remember that.

How to insure your child thrives and other tales of success...

This is an early picture of my garden at the beginning stage. This garden faced: weeds, exposure to winds,poor soil, lack of warmth.

Some things I could ameliorate; some things I had to accept.

I could build up the soil structure, add tarp to retain warmth, add fertilizing material to
encourage growth, add bio- variety to prevent insects from invading, and construct a wind barrier to minimize damage.

I had to accept that winds by the Ocean are often too harsh and too frequent, and my barrier would have to be of such force and durability to withstand hurricane force gusts even during the sunny months.

I had to accept that my soil is sand. Not just sandy, but all sand. Any plant material I add will take centuries to build up to an optimum level. I have to be patient and resourceful with what I plant, what I harvest to consume, what I compost for future soil build-up.

In educating our children, teachers basically make the same decisions. They begin by assessing the potential and needs of the youngsters. They look at the materials, time and resources available. They structure the classroom to keep time-on-task uninterrupted. They build structures to keep the winds of distraction at bay: rules, procedures, routines. They assign tasks and homework based on the capacity of the class to achieve pre-determined goals.

Much of the work in education is done by parents before the child arrives at school. You prepared the soil way in advance. You instilled love of learning as well as habits of mind. You taught rules and respect and fair play. The teacher is just planting this year's crop of concepts, skills and vocabulary.

If any amelioration needs to occur, you as a parent will be the first to notice and to point out. You will partner with the teacher and get the job done. Those barriers to keep the winds out are not built by one person. They are built by teams of dedicated workers supporting and respecting each other.

Your child will succeed not because the teacher likes him-though this element is most important- not because the homework is easy, or the materials are all available, but because he/she has become passionate about something beyond his/her capacity, something that is hard and important, something that makes him/her feel strong and important.

Both you and the teacher can take pride in his/her growth and achievements.

The harvest/results will not be visible for a long time. You are building a cathedral together.

Waiting for the Sun.

I'm sitting in this quiet spot, waiting to gather enough strength to return to my garden chores. I can sip coffee here, watch the ocean in the distance, admire the work that is slowly progressing. The trouble with having a vision is finding the perseverance to achieve that vision regardless of intervening events.

Like weather. Weather that is still too cool and too wet.

It has been so cool that my bean starts and pea starts are barely growing. I could show you; but then, you too would feel discouraged.

So, I'll continue to weed, pray and sing out loud for the sun to show its face:

The sun will come out tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow
There' ll be sun.

If the ground doesn't warm up, nothing will germinate.
Now, those of you living in lush tropical areas will take gorgeous pictures of your veggies and flowers and make me feel better.

Please, please, tell the sun to spend more time on this side of the planet.

I have a major investment here.

Patch of Dirt.

Do you see the patch of dirt that is waiting for planting?

It is still in the same condition weeks after we had paid someone clear the brambles and till the soil.

Why the delay?

The water pump that provides water for irrigation quit working. In this part of the world it rains all the time, until it stops in June. Then, we are on our own. If we want the small seedlings to grow, we need to provide daily moisture until their roots can find water further down, the water table here is quite high.

Last fall we had a well pump installed to bring water from the ground, filter it, and then circulate it as needed in each part of this garden. Besides this area, my husband and his helper had cleared three other areas. In total, we now have four new areas to plant vegetables and fruit canes and bushes. The plan was perfect: a designated area for my new cherry trees and berry patches, an area for cut flowers, and an additional area for seasonal vegetables, one for summer veggies, one for fall/winter, and one for cover crops, rotating each season.

We stopped the planting and tried to fix the pump problem. Our contractor who had installed the device last year came to take a look. He too couldn't solve the problem. The solution was to either replace the pump, a new pump shouldn't have quit, or see if it was an electrical connection problem.

You guessed . The electrical company has appeared to search the ground for the connections. Then the contractor reappeared with a digger , up and down the hill, digging and discovering where the conduit had rotted and needed replacement. We're in this too deeply now to quit.

If we harvest anything this year, we'll have to bond these products in advance. We will enjoy every bite, knowing how much they cost to produce.

In addition, as I tended the roses, some little critter bit me and caused my arm to turn red overnight. So, I called my doctor, who is one hour away. The office tells me to go to the emergency room of the clinic because everyone is booked solid. I spent an entire afternoon at the clinic to have a doctor look at my red arm, prescribe an anti-inflammatory that I must take for six days which will case me all kinds of side effects , and stay out of the garden. Great. I couldn't even move my arm to drive.

Tomatoes after Mother's Day.

See this dark cover, with a drip watering system, surrounded by tall grass? That's the way we garden here in the Northwest, with a dark poly cover to attract sun rays and to prevent weeds from chocking the tiny seedlings. Onions, lettuces and peas do well here. I can plant them in succession and have fresh salad ingredients for months-that is if I keep picking them fast, not letting them go to seed. Eventually, though, I want those hot, juicy tomatoes the rest of the world craves during summer months.



I have had some success with tomatoes. First, I must make sure to buy the specialized kind that grow well here. I can't just go to Walmart and wheel out with whatever. I must have early-maturing or small-cherry tomatoes. Nothing bigger. Besides the mulching, thermal looking blanket, my tomatoes will also need plenty of compost. The ground is so washed out, leached, that nothing but sand loving grasses grow here.



And one more thing: I must wait until after Mother's Day to plant tomatoes. It seems that the weather gods-ancient Indian rites-and Alaska winds give us a bit of rest after the middle of May through September. I must hurry to the nursery today, pay whatever they ask, and then rush home to plant.



What did I get for Mother's Day? Tomatoes, or the promise of a sloppy bite on a sunny August afternoon, when, for a few days everything turns bright orange or red, and we sit on the deck, the ocean over our shoulders, with a colorful salad of basil, tomatoes and mozzarella.

Rain, rain, go away...

I have had enough rain. Now, I want to spend time outside everyday, every minute. My garden gets little snippets of my time, a bit of weeding here, a bit of tilling there. I never have a whole dry week to keep going on any one chore. My attempts at planting, fertilizing, building beds, are up one minute, down the next, as I anticipate the next deluge.

I have dreamed of a beautiful garden every year. And every year I have spent hundreds of hours scouring nurseries and bringing home beautiful plants that do well for one season. I make adjustments, eliminate some plants,reevaluate my vision, ask the natives what works well on this coast.

By August, I beg for the rain to return, for clouds and mist and cool days. Even on the coast, summer is dry and windy, irritating to the skin and the eyes. Come to think of it, Spring is not so bad. The sun peeks out every day, or almost every day and beckons me to be outdoors. Then, a gentle shower helps my new seedlings grow and keeps my roses growing. I can get used to this.