Preparing for winter

     Today was one of those rare days in fall/winter where it's sunny and cool, but nice enough that you can go work in the garden. Since I still had all that bare ground (and knowing nature abhors a vacuum), I decided to stop off at the first house I passed on the way to the garden that had bags of leaves on the curb, and see if I could snag some. The highly confused man who opened the door accepted my bizarre explanation of needing mulch for a garden with good grace, and I shoved three bags into my trunk before heading off again. Apparently, I have no self-consciousness when dealing with people I will likely never see again.

     Armed with my leaf bags, cardboard from work, and the prospect of having to weed everything in the spring if I didn't get cracking, I managed to get most of the upper bed filled in with either leaves or mulch. Good thing, too, because something was sending little sproutlings up all over the area. We'll see if I caught them in time. Here's what it looks like now:



     Unfortunately, the bottom board fell off of the middle bed there, so I wasn't able to get it completely dug in and leafed/mulched, but that should help immensely! The carrots that you see in the foreground are doing wonderfully, I harvested one row of them today and planted garlic for the spring. Sadly, there was a frost last night, and the tomatoes and peppers are finally dead. I weeded a little bit, and got the boards on the bottom bed kind of in place. "All" that's left now is fixing the top bed, finishing it off, making, mulching and leafing the bottom bed(s), and putting a new layer of mulch/leaves on the rest of the garden. Oh, and transplanting the raspberries. And weeding everything. Before the snow flies. We'll see how that works. Cheers!

Fall garden update

     Back in August, I got word that I and a few other gardeners along the edge would be losing some of our plots. Apparently, the head of the garden asked the county why they haven't been mowing around the perimeter, and the county responded that they couldn't get their mower along it, because we've built gardens to within 5 feet of the treeline. From what I've overheard, they originally wanted a 30' space along the edge, but since that would mean many of the gardens would be cut back to only 10' wide, the head gardener negotiated for a 20' easement.

     What does that mean? The plot that I spent so much time on this year is losing 1/3 of its area. I'm gaining that and a little more back, however, as I was allowed to take over the much smaller plot next to me that had been abandoned since May. That's not quite as fun as it sounds, because the entire plot was knee-high in weeds, strewn with rusty broken garden implements, thoroughly rocky, and had gaps in the fence that a human could easily get through, but I still accepted. Partly because I want the space, and partly because it means I don't share any fences now. There are walkways on two sides of my plot, and forest/grass strips on the other two. Suits me just fine. 

    At the beginning of October, I decided that enough of my crops had been harvested that it was safe to take the deer fence down and start merging the plots. In an attempt to hide the horrible weed-infested horribleness, I'd planted morning glories along the fence. They were doing quite well, but unfortunately, they had to go. So on the first weekend of the month, I did a bit of weeding, took down the bamboo, and took out the morning glories. Next step: the other plot.

Garden update

It's been a busy summer, although thankfully less hot than it could have been. I was finally able to get everything in the ground by the end of April, and got a huge response. Here's what it looked like by the beginning of July:

The farthest tier has sunflowers along the fence; watermelon and cantaloupe on the left; beans, peas, and raspberries in the middle; and cucumbers and eggplant on the right. The middle tier is tomatoes on the left; strawberries, borage, and collard greens in the middle; and okra and peppers on the right. The top tier has sage, carrots, and garlic on the right, mostly weeds and a straggling lavender in the center, and potatoes and blueberries on the right. If it should like a lot, that's because it is!

The eggplant and melons immediately got attacked by various pests, and haven't done well at all. The cucumbers did ridiculously well for about a month and a half, and then died off. Everything else has produced wonderfully- despite a few pest issues- to the point where I have a much better idea on how many plants of each item to plant next year (a lot fewer, in most cases!). Just a few weeks after the above picture, it looked like this:

Some of the harvests:

                  

Unexpected lessons included:

-Apparently, a number of things from bugs and beetles to rabbits, love collard greens, and will eat them over everything else. This is absolutely fine with me. 

-Garlic protects carrots from almost everything, including the aforementioned rabbits.

-Bees adore borage and sunflowers. (Support the poor bees!)

-Even cold-damaged seedlings will rally and overproduce. Don't listen to advice that tells you to toss them.

-Carrots cannot be judged by their tops. The leafiest ones were close to baby carrot size, and some unassuming tops produced monster carrots.

-Big tomato cages are more expensive, but worth it. 

-Pests don't always mean a ruined crop. Mexican bean beetles skeletonized the bean leaves, and left the beans alone, perfectly ready for harvest.

Sadly, I'm losing the bottom tier to a county easement, but I will absolutely be doing this again. It was fun, it was a workout, and we got some good food out of it. Chees!

Lost claddagh

     I lost my claddagh ring this past week, and it's having far more of an impact on my life than I thought it would. Despite the fact that it was bought for me by my ex-husband as a wedding ring, I kept it when we broke up, and simply moved it to the appropriate hand and position for being single. Partially, this was because what he paid for it was a small fraction of what he had borrowed from me in the brief time we were together, but mostly because...

     I am pretty serious about my financial independence. I try not to obsess about money, but staying out of debt (other than student loans) is very important to me, and I do my best to split things evenly, even though my gentleman makes literally twice what I do right now. I do not want to take advantage of other people, financially, the way other people have taken advantage of me, in the past. I don't like accepting expensive gifts, and I certainly don't like asking for things.

     But.... despite its origin, despite the annoyance of the design getting caught on everything, despite everything... that claddagh was the first expensive, high-quality piece of jewelry that someone else thought I was worth the price. I didn't have to ask for it, he wouldn't let me get a cheaper one (although it was still plain, by my preference); he insisted that I get the ring I wanted, regardless of the price. It was the most expensive thing I'd gotten something without worrying about the cost, and without worrying that someone was doing it for any other reason than that they could afford to do something that would make me happy. Even if that person turned out to be not so nice in the end, that feeling lived on in the ring.

     Maybe it's silly to think so, since I'm Scots, and not Irish anyway. Maybe it's foolish to be attached to a thing, instead of eschewing materialism. I've tried telling myself a hundred times this week that I don't wear jewelry anyway, reminding myself of all the times it got caught on things,  how annoying it could be, being loose in the winter and tight in the summer... but I still miss it. It meant a lot to me. And I don't think I can replace that.

Garden progression

     When I first got my garden plot through Columbia Gardeners, it looked abandoned. The fence was made of different sized pieces zip-tied together, some of the beds had been ripped up and dragged off, and there were rusty metal scraps of braces and more fencing everywhere. The previous gardener had a casual disregard for things like whether something was biodegradable or not, and plastic plant tags were scattered and half-buried everywhere. The ground, regardless of bed layout, was a ragged mat of nettle, crabgrass, and dead bits of annual flower corpses. The list of horrors goes on, but needless to say, it was not uplifting.

Pet peeve: names

     One of my pet peeves is when people cannot seem to get my name straight. I realize it's a bit of an odd one, at least here in America, but still, some effort would be nice. When I say my name to someone who needs to contact me in writing or look it up in a database, I spell it out automatically. Sometimes I get lazy, and just say "it starts with l-y," occasionally, if the person has struck me as particularly dense, I'll add the double esses in, and if it's anything official or formal, I'll spell it out completely, just to avoid mishaps. Believe it or not, however, some people still get it dead wrong.

     What really ticks me off, too, is when it's someone who is writing or responding to my business email, which follows the format of (first name).(last name)@(workplace).com. They had to type it in- correctly!- to send it to me, and yet they still murder the spelling in the introduction. Maybe, just maybe, I can understand it on the first letter or email. But when I reply, and sign my full name at the end of the reply, and they still get it wrong… I get a little steamed. That's just downright rude. At least have the decency to get my name right, will you?

Variations I have seen:
Cassandra (this one is the most understandable)
Lissandra (somewhat understandable)
Lassandra/ Lesandra
Lisander (I am a marble statue!)
LaShaundra (no clue how they got this one)

     Verbally, I am called Lisa or Leesandra by pretty much anyone who is not a native speaker. That bothers me less than the writing deal, though, because that's less laziness or ignoring, and more nuances of a language. Annoying, but forgivable. The writing thing though? Gets my goat, every time. 

Russian poem: Sinners

Came across this in my wanderings. Am now determined to memorize it:

Грешники
В грехах мы всё - как цветы в росе,
Святых между нами нет.
А если ты свят - ты мне не брат,
Не друг мне и не сосед.

Я был в беде - как рыба в воде,
Я понял закон простой:
Там грешник приходит на помочь, где
Отвертывается святой.
-Вадим Шефнер, 1962

Poetic translation:
Sinners
We all have our sins, like flowers have dew,
Saints among us you simply won't find.
And if you're a saint, then leave me alone,
You're no friend nor brother of mine.

I've lived with troubles, like a dog lives with fleas,
I saw this rule's truth, every day:
Sinners will reach out to help one another;
But saints turn their faces away.
-Vadim Shefner, 1962


Literal translation:
Sinners
In sins are we all - like flowers in dew,
Saints among us, there aren't.
And if you're a saint, you're no brother of mine,
Nor friend, nor neighbor.

I've been in hardship - like a fish in water,
I've come to understand this simple law:
Sinners will go to help where
Saints turn away from.

Cheating

     Sorry for the radio silence; I haven't been inspired to write anything lately, since I've been occupied getting used to a 9-5 job for the first time since 2009. So instead of writing something new, I'm just going to give you a link to a translation I wrote recently:

Russian Fairy tales- Бобовое зернышко.

     I've been spending lunch break translating fairy tales, and have decided to share them with you. Enjoy!

When not to apologize

     You often hear the advice, "learn when to say no," regarding ways to uncomplicated your life and be happier. What they don't mention is the aftermath of that: saying no and not feeling badly about it. I've learned to say no to things like overtime, people who will drag your life down with drama, errant ex-boyfriends, horrible job offers, and invitations to events I really don't think I'd enjoy. The problem is that then I agonize over the decision, trying to decide if it was justified or just selfish and rude.

     Segue for a moment: this past week, I started a new job. It's the first full-time job I've had in five years, and it seems like a really good fit for me. The people are crazy (the good kind of crazy though), the work is diverse, and I'm not watching the clock every day, waiting for 5:00 to get there and free me. There's a lot to learn, but I'm enjoying it. So it stands to reason that this is the week that I get contacted by my translation internship to ask if I want to be involved in possibly opening up a branch office in my location. Had they asked before this job was on the horizon, I would have unhesitatingly jumped at the opportunity. But now, well, I have a better prospect, so I said thank you, but no.

Scaring myself

     For those of you who are familiar with the Meyers-Briggs test, I am an INTJ, though a number of the criteria are close to balanced. For those of you not familiar with it, that means I tend to be introverted, intuit things and see the big picture, value objectivity, and plan things well in advance. One of the habits of INTJs is that we tend to have only a few close friends, who are often INTJs themselves.  So it came as no surprise to me that, when I took a job that required making collection calls (phone communication being typically anathema to INTJ folk), the response was overwhelmingly along the lines of "Holy crap, WHY would you do that???"

     For what it's worth, I even asked the same question of myself, because I hate talking on the phone.  It's impossible to use or gauge reactions to nonverbal communication, such as body language, facial expressions, gestures, and the like. Instead you have to rely on tonal inflections, which are very easy to fake. There is also the problem of communication lag, or feedback, or bad connections, which make conversations awkward and halting, situations that INTJs typically avoid like the plague. Last but not least, you're talking to people you don't know (awkward), about fairly personal issues (money and medical history), and there's a good chance that, once they figure out who you are and why you're calling, they're going to hate your guts and be rude just to get rid of you. Why would someone choose to do that?