Confessions of a Grandma

Our friend stopped as part of his summer road trip with his two daughters. We went to the Lake Champlain Chocolates tour--lots of free samples provided. We also went to the Vermont Teddy Bear Factory and took that tour, then on to Dakin Farms so the girls could get some maple sugar candy and we could all graze on their free samples of cheeses, summer sausages, jams, honey, condiments. Cheap dates, all. The LCC tour reminded me of the an article in Sunday's Burlington Free Press . It was about the mother of a bride creating a complete "localvore" wedding for her daughter and new son-in-law. The flowers were all provided from her own and friends' gardens. She found a local grain grower and used their flour to make her own lasagna noodles then stuffed that with locally grown mushrooms, frozen kale from her own garden, and locally produced cheeses. She made apple and blueberry pies and a lemon tart. The lemons were harvested from a Meyer lemon tree she has as a ho...

There was an article in the local newspaper about the latest fad of people in city neighborhoods setting up small chicken coops in their backyards. I wonder if they realize before hand just how much a rooster crows during the day. I used to think they just sounded off at sunrise to wake up the farm and then just weren't heard from for the rest of the day. When I moved to the country seventeen years ago, I found out that is not the case. One of my neighbors told me that ammonia poured around the garden perimeter will repel woodchucks as well as coyote urine--at considerably less cost. I heard a gun shot the other evening so I'm wondering if Little Chuckie had moved on to another neighbor's garden. Most of the gardeners around here would not have a qualm about shooting a woodchuck. Years ago it was not at all uncommon to see dead woodchucks draped over fence posts--I guess as a warning to others. I haven't seen that for some time and I certainly don't miss the ...

A cute little baby woodchuck made his way into my garden and thought that it was just a real nifty all-you-can-eat buffet. The lettuce--gone. The rudbeckia and about half of the liatrus--gone. The one little pepper already in progress--bitten into and spit out. How rude. Mike put an empty coffee can in the garden and shot at it with a B-B gun in an effort to scare the critter away but that had only limited effect. I went to the garden center and bought a spray that is supposed to taste nasty. It cost around twelve dollars and the ingredients list included herbs, spices, and oils. I suppose I could have made it myself. Mike said it sounded like something I would eat for supper (not being receptive to my vegetarian efforts). I also bought some coyote urine. Would you believe that cost nearly $18? If I actually harvest a tomato out of that garden it will have cost me about a hundred bucks. I'm thinking the farmers' market is the way to go in the future.

Kristen had her ninth birthday today. It seems like not that long ago--certainly not nine years--that I was rushing to Rutland on a Saturday morning to be with my daughter after getting the call that she was on the way to the hospital. A mere thirty-three hours later (and nine days past the projected due date), Kristen made her appearance. I went to visit on Tuesday and took her her presents. She didn't wait to open them. She wasn't all that surprised, but she was happy. I also got to see her complete her test for her yellow belt in her karate class. I posted a copy of the video her grandfather took of the yellow belt exercise on Facebook. Dane was disappointed that he did not get to come home with me. He wanted to "see Mike," go to the "museum," and stay at "a hotel." Well, I was disappointed, too. It's definitely getting to be time for some grandma days. These pictures are from the last visit here. Of course, after a few grandma days...

The other night Mike and I were cleaning up after supper. I had a bag of compostable garbage--the kind that has to go to the transfer station because it is heat treated to turn it into compost…NOT the kind that goes into my garden compost bin. Any way, as I was filling a dish pan, Mike holds up the now empty bag and asks if I wanted to rinse it out or just throw it into the household trash. “OMG, no! You tossed that stuff into my garden compost??” I was horrified, horrified. Mike looked at me with an “I was trying to be helpful here” look and said, “I hope you are not going to mention this your blog. I don’t want my compost incompetence exposed to the world.” Silly man. First of all, I’m pretty sure the entire world does not read my blog. Second of all, it was mildly distressing, yes, but I pulled myself together. I’m not crazy. I can get past these little upsets. And third of all, why would I even write about what he did with the garbage and how I can’t believe that he has lived with ...

I picked up a hanging planter for the finishing touch to the deck. I hope I can manage to keep it looking good. Summer is not that long, after all. I don’t fret over plants in the ground, but for some reason plants in planters throw me for a loop. I have bad planter booju…a word I made up, but it’s not a good thing. However, the nursery owner was effusive in his praise of my good taste in picking this arrangement and a random nearby customer was sure that I must be an artist for my eye in selecting this particular pot. I’m such a sucker for flattery. I plunked down the money on the spot. It’s always embarrassing to think about afterwards! 　

I picked strawberries. Luscious. I have put a whole bunch in the freezer for smoothies and such, but it seems a shame not to eat them fresh as much as possible for the short season we have them available…so we are doing our best. I took some strawberries along with a container of chicken salad and a potato salad to my neighbor for her supper. Her husband is in the hospital awaiting five way by-pass surgery. It is not considered an emergency so he has had to wait five days for a surgery time, but they would not let him leave the hospital for those five days either. I just can’t imagine what an anxiety building exercise that must be. I don’t consider a hospital a fun place to pass the time. On the other hand, the things that modern medicine can fix now is quite amazing. Still, I hope to avoid any kind of close relationship with medical personnel as much as I possibly can… If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride. If turnips were watches, I’d wear one at my side. ...