Propagation Mats

 

               On Candlemas, we started our season’s greens—kales and mustard, lettuce and celery, as well as the leeks—as we always do. For years, I carried the flats to my classroom and grew them under the lights there, where I could keep a close eye on them. I loved patting the tomato plants and dreaming of summer on a stressful afternoon.   But then, the pandemic happened and school closed. I needed a new way to bring the starts along; the greenhouse worked well, but it’s chilly and germination was slow and the plants were a bit leggy in the later stages. Changes needed to be made.

                First, we hung two plant lights on chains from the rafters. They can be lowered over the tiny plants and raised as needed. When we are done for the season, they are tight to the rafters, out of the way of the hoses that water my home for the summer classroom plants. With the lights on a timer, the leggy problem was solved. The next year, I acquired a propagation mat for the tomatoes. They were thrilled, so I bought another. Both trays of seedlings can now have warm toes. The greens use them in February and the tomatoes in March. The peas, unfortunately, have to grow on their own.

                This last week, the temps dropped to the low 20s. I didn’t make it out to the greenhouse for two days; the combination of schedule, ice on the back step, and cold snow kept me inside. When I did look in on Saturday morning, I was dismayed. The cold, it appeared, had hit the starts. I brought them in and noticed that they were not cold, but dry.  A few hours later, after being thoroughly drenched in the tub, they had bounced back. Our system will work to at least 20 degrees!

                This morning, I moved everyone back out to their warm mats, adjusted the light timer to stay on a little longer in the evening and start a little later in the morning (it was waking Mark up), and checked on the rest of the plants. It’s not toasty out there, but the rosemary plants for school and all of the geraniums are doing just fine, despite the grim weather outside.

Loose Ties

 

                I was cruising down Circle Blvd. today, contemplating how beautifully the road diet had calmed the traffic flow—we were all traveling at thirty miles per hour, instead of forty—when I spotted my neighbor’s jeep, hood up, in the exit ramp for the local shopping plaza. “What the heck?” I raised my arms at him. He laughed. I swung through the parking lot to check on him; I’ve been stranded in too many awkward spots myself to not stop. By the time I pulled up next to him, his friend had arrived to jump start him again. “We just need an elastic,” he told me. I handed over a hair tie and went on my way. 

                A few weeks ago, I called a physical therapist because my back/hip had seized up. I thought the name was familiar; I clearly recognized the voice. Do I know you? Yes. She had been before City Council numerous times a few years ago, raising clear, cogent concerns about the city and county response to homelessness. We didn’t always agree, but there was mutual respect. For the past month, she has been pealing way layers of adhesions and pinched nerves and veins, moving my pelvic ring back to health.

                And, on Friday night, Mark and I dined in at one of our favorite restaurants—Tarn Tip. We’ve had takeout regularly throughout the pandemic, but we have been patiently waiting to eat there once again. It has taken a long while for them to reopen because of staffing shortages. But, there we were: real plates, no plastic take out containers to add to the basement stash, hot eggplant and basil, rather than lukewarm…heaven. Our favorite waitress was there, looking a bit harried (it was busy!), but glad to see people enjoying their food and asking after their well being.  So good to see you, we agreed.

                Loose ties hold communities together. I have always known this but, post pandemic, we need to remember their power. Loose ties hold us together.

First Steps

 

First steps….Mark has been working on the house next door, doing what he can while waiting for contractors to come in, replace parts of the ceiling and wall, tear off the garage, and repair some exterior stucco. The deck has been replaced, lots of volunteer trees have been taken out, and the bathroom sink now drains. It’s all good.

He spent several days last week wandering through the house, collecting all of the ancient paint cans and gathering them in the garage.  It’s a new old house ritual, to clean out the hazardous materials that have gathered in dusky corners for seventy years. This was our third round of the work. When he came in last Sunday, he looked up the next Hazardous Waste drop-off date and it was Saturday! We filled the central floor of the van with dead paints and other rusted cans, tucked in our backyard metal and glass, and did a run through Republic Services drop off center. It took three carts, but it was all gone. Much better than leaving them to rot and spill in the basement and drain out into our city wastewater treatment plant.

We also looked at all of our chimneys on Wednesday. The chimney sweep cleaned out our fireplace and dining room stove, and then went next door. The fireplace in the back room needs a cap and a grate to be safely used. The gas fireplace in the front room just needs to be turned off. It was put in 25 years ago; the residents thought it was a lovely way to gracefully warm their front room. But then someone capped the flue—probably to keep rodents out—and it has not been used in years. We will turn it off permanently. We don’t need the fumes in the house nor do we need the additional greenhouse gas emissions from the warmth. Over time, the entire house will be electric. This is the first step.

When all of the needed for safety repairs are done, we will begin the slow steady process of upgrading insulation and appliances as parts fail and/or rebates appear. There is, always, a balancing act between maintaining and replacing parts of our house’s infrastructure.