Yesterday's Community Garden Coalition Class

I am part of the Texarkana Community Garden Coalition. We have several public gardens in Texarkana, available for the general public. You want a tomato, come get a tomato. 

Once a month, we find a willing crazy volunteer among us to put on a free class for the public. Last month, as we were lamenting the lack of help we were getting in planting our biggest garden, I came up with this wild idea: why not put on a Container Gardening class. It would include a quick presentation about the what, when, and where of Container Gardening and then, we'd just Tom Sawyer our audience to our empty garden and allow anyone who came to our class the opportunity to plant something themselves. I sold the idea as a "practical, hand's on approach." 

Now then, the end result is that we have a planted garden and a lot of excited folks learned the basics of putting seeds in the ground. The feedback I got from the public was positive. There are now several more folks around town who want to play with plants. And I have to tell you, it was a blast to watch the lightbulb go off over their heads as they figured out how to correctly put a tomato plant into the soil, how to plant carrot seeds and even how to transplant wheat grass. 

As a side note, there was an actual presentation to this. I was the presenter. 

My presentation had two hiccups: 

1) The head of the Bowie County Master Gardeners showed up to the class. I opted to introduce him and then turned him being there into a joke: "If I tell you the wrong information, it's because I didn't pay enough attention on the day Bill was teaching me." By the way, Bill is a cornucopia of knowledge (and he said I did great). 

2) I have a walking boot on my foot. I've been so distracted, I forgot about the presentation until this past Monday. But more to the point, standing for any length of time is very painful and I paid for it the rest of the day. 

Polly, my driver, took a few photos. That lady in the brown saw the advertisement for the class on our Facebook page. She said she wanted to learn to plant a garden--something on her bucket list. This woman asked me a few questions, took a bit of one-on-one instruction and then went like an Energizer Bunny, planting everything she possibly could. I never caught her name, but I watched the gardening bug hit her right about the time this picture was taken. When she was leaving, I hobbled over and handed her a collard greens seed packet. It was like handing her gold bullion--she now realized she could feed herself.  

Overwhelming Kindness

I'm overwhelmed from the kindness of others. 

First and foremost, while Marty and I have been laid up and was Polly in New York, Buckaroo stepped up without prompting. I'm blown away at what an amazing and responsible young man he's grown into. This past week, Buck's been handling extra chores, taking care of errands and all sorts of other tasks--all while holding a full-time job. And may I say, he's been doing all of the above with a cheerful heart. 

On Sunday, when he drove Marty to the airport, I suspected he thought he'd get a reprieve from the household chores from his sister, who was finally back on this side of the Mississippi. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Polly came home very ill. So, Buckaroo got up early on Monday--his day off--and drove her to urgent care. 

Which brings me to the rest of the "others" mentioned above. Word has gotten around in my small community that the Sunshines are a sorry lot. I've gotten offers for meals, rides to where ever I might need to go, and people to come over and keep me company, though they they beg off on coming over when they find out Polly is under the weather. I even have someone who offered to send their 14 year old son over later in the week to help me with my garden.  

What I'm discovering is though I'm touched by the outward support, we really don't need much. We have groceries. I have books, a sewing machine and my computer to write. Polly feels like sleeping. Buckaroo and Marty are working. However, in this case, it truly is the thought that counts. 

Hanging Out With People Who Play with Plants

On Saturday, I went to a Homestead Conference put on by Wood County Master Gardeners. Let me help you unpack that sentence. Here are the takeaways: 1. There are several of us crazies in East Texas who play with plants. 2. We are willing to drive two hours to Quitman, Texas to hang out with each other. 3. We can talk for HOURS about plants. 

There were five of us from the Bowie County Master Gardeners who made the drive (or in my case, the ride) to Quitman High School to learn about (among other things) seed preservation, container gardening, hügelkultur, herbs and Maple, the fainting goat.   

The big-city girl in me didn't consider until Saturday that high schools in rural parts of Texas (or anywhere) might have Agriculture classes. But they do. And let's face it, until my Peoplechow recipe is perfected, you want our young folks learning about agriculture. Anyway, the Homestead Conference was held in several agriculture classrooms. 

A sign in a classroom in Quitman, TX

After the conference, we Bowie County folks, took a few minutes moments a spell long while and went to the local botanical garden. They walked around while I rested my foot. And by the way, I HATE this walking boot. Incidentally, a word of warning: If you go to any garden with someone who likes plants, be prepared to be there a long while. This was the view from my bench. Eventually my friends found me again.   

Random Texarkana--The Mundane and Broken Edition

On Tuesday, I broke my toe and fractured my foot. I'm now limping along with a walking boot, which makes for fun  means I'm not driving. Between Marty's right shoulder and my right foot, this has not been a great week for our bones. Some couples when they have been married a long time start dressing alike. Apparently Marty and I are sporting complimentary medical paraphernalia.  

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The following text might have been sent to my brother when I returned from taking Polly to the airport (prior to me getting the walking boot). "Can we all just normalize blasting Metallica while driving through small Southern towns at 4:45 a.m.?"

In related news, baseball starts next week. 

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After nine weeks and one factory-mishap later, our house on Arizona Avenue has a working garage door. The timing was perfect. The second spring snapped Monday night--the day before the installation. The new door is quiet (our last one sounded like something from a haunted mansion sound stage) and it can be operated from our phones. Hence, the young adults now have access to the house via the garage. 

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And finally: 

Living Her Best Life

 

Polly, Circa 2012

This morning I took Polliwog to the Texarkana Airport. She's on her way to New York City. Saturday, she and several select members of the Texarkana Chorale will be singing on stage at Carnegie Hall. 

Jack Frost's Last Hurrah

Today is the spring equinox. 

It is currently 31 degrees, which makes zero sense. It's been in the 50s overnight for the past three weeks. Plus, there are zero other days in the forecast showing freezing temperatures. 

Yesterday, like some sort of horticultural prayer chain, texts were flying reminding each other it was going to freeze overnight and everyone needed to take cover. Well, cover the flowers outside and take the spring plants which haven't been planted in the ground yet, inside. 

I'm not making this up.

These were all in my garage until last night. (grown from seed)

I have potatoes in my laundry room.

And other plants in my kitchen.

These were already inside because they were brought in last Fall.
But I'm ready for them to be back outside.

 

Fortunately, Marty is a Lefty

Friday I was talking to Ms. Ainsley, explaining to her March had been totally batty and I was looking forward to normalcy. She replied, "It can only go up from here." 

Oh, if only. 

Saturday night, Marty slipped in the bathroom. Three EMTs and a bored Wake Village Fire department (who came out for sport) later, he was off the ground and on his way to the emergency room with a dislocated shoulder. I would like to give a shout-out to the EMT who found a piece of cloth and Maguivered a sling for poor Marty, whose right arm dangled limply in an unnatural state. 

And here's the difference between big-city life and small town life. The EMTs told us one of the two hospitals wasn't taking patients at that moment. Therefore, they suggested we bypass both hospitals (the second hospital was taking the overflow) and go directly to the urgent care "near the convention center," instead. When I pulled up, I left the engine running, ran inside to ask for assistance and came back to find my husband, my car and my purse right where I left them. After shuffling Marty into the facility, I ran back in with my insurance card. And what do you know, my running car, my purse and my phone were still right where I left them.  

This wasn't your run-of-the mill dislocation either. I googled it later. Less than 1 percent of the population actually get posterior dislocations (combined with a clavicle fracture to boot). It took three burly men and a lot of morphine to put Marty's arm back in the socket. They had to actually move his arm to the other side of his clavicle prior to popping it back into place. 

All the while, Morphined-Marty was muttering, "that hurts." 

The doctor looked at me in the middle of this and said, "If it wasn't for the pain killers, he'd be screaming right now." 

Marty remembers none of this, including how the stabilization sling managed to be fashioned on him while he was laying down.

Oh yes, here's another tid-bit about small town life: HIPPA laws are a mere suggestion. I got to hang out in the room while all this was going on. I also helped them with the sling. I called the orthopedic today and they had no problem with my suggestion of looking at my file from last year to get our insurance info for Marty. What they did question was why we had 480 as our area code for phone numbers. Then I called Marty's primary care physician and asked that his medication be refilled, because he isn't driving for a bit. Could they send it to the Wake Village pharmacy please? Nobody there asked my name or for mine or his credentials.  

At this point, I'm hoping my maddening March will be showing promise of calming down sometime mid-April.

The Social Event of the Month

Today is the Miller County Master Gardener Plant Sale. Marty and I are meeting my pal Joy, and her husband Mr. Joy there in about an hour. Since 7:30 this morning, I've gotten about six text messages from various plant-type folks asking if I'm going. 

Incidentally, the Bowie County Master Gardener Plant Sale is next month. 

Just a Day in Texas

Free samples galore!

For months the young adults have been asking for me to take them to the Sweet Shop. They heard about my tour of this chocolate factory months ago and it has been on their bucket list ever since. At first, I figured it was just one of those things--sure, they want to go. After all, we are talking about young adults with jobs, lives and other hobbies that have nothing to do with their mother. 

However, my master gardener friend, Maria, has a daughter who is on spring break and also wanted to go. So, I told Polly  and Buck, if they were serious, take the day off and we'd trek the 70+ miles to go check out the chocolate factory. 

The 80,000 factory
 is behind that wall. 

And, much to my delight, they did just that.

When they were little, I loved Polly and Buck field trips. We'd sometimes have breakfast at the zoo, lunch at the Science Museum, or an afternoon hike at Usury Park and talk about Arizona. Some time during every hike, Buck would manage to get a piece of cholla in his shoe. Plus, one time they ran past a cranky rattler and didn't notice. When I caught up to Polly she said, "I thought that was a bird." But all that said, I miss those days. Good times. 

Sweet Shop Exterior

Our tour was wonderful. Polly, who is all into weather, wanted to know where the tornado shelters were in the building. As a baker, she also had a hyper-focused interest in the decorative process, as all these chocolates are hand decorated.  Buck, who is all into planning and logistics, wanted to know about the process of shipping out millions of pieces of chocolate every month. When the tour ended, the fine folks gave us as many free pieces of chocolate as we wanted. 

Afterwards, the five of us found Mount Pleasant Burgers--which has to be the best burger joint in East Texas. Then, we drove to New Boston, where I hopped out of the minivan and gave the keys to Buck and Polly. Buck had "plans" on his day off and had no desire to go on the next leg of our trip. Polly, when she discovered what Master Gardener Maria and I had in store, begged off, saying she needed to floss her teeth, check on the dog, or do anything else instead of coming with us. 

This picture doesn't do the joint justice.
I recommend clicking on the link. 

Then--and I assure you this was SO COOL!!!--Master Gardener Maria, her 11 year old hostage daughter and I went to my happy place. And frankly, this is now Maria's new happy place. Squee! The Little Country Green House, a plant utopia for those of us who like to look at plants. 

An hour and a half after entering this plant nursery I texted Marty, saying I spent less at Little Country Greenhouse than I did at the Sweet Shop and please acknowledge me for my greatness. Marty obliged. 

I came home with Phlox, Hosta, peppers, more peppers, a hummingbird plant, two dahlias, lupine and about three other plants I couldn't live with out. Oh yes! I also bought radish seeds and fire ant killer. Master Gardener Maria bought five shrubs, a daylily, and four other plants she couldn't live without. 

As my children grow up, I really do cherish these outings more and more. Buck wants to make a run to the Little Rock Zoo in the next month or two. I'm in. Maybe I can convince him to stop by a plant nursery or the Hot Springs Botanical Gardens on the way back. 

This Bombshell

Marty dropped this on me yesterday. He "needs" to go back to Dallas and get more of his specialty coffee. He wants to do it soon. Per the contract I signed 26 years ago, I am expected to go with him. 

He told me this because he wanted to give me anxiety a head's up.   

Super Tuesday

Last Tuesday night, 11 p.m. 

Let me start with the coolest part of my Tuesday: My pal, Deb (Tessa's bestie and the Queen of the Coronas) returned from her two months on a beach in Mexico Monday night. She had her choice of voting locations and purposely came all the way over to my site to vote. When I saw her, I may have squealed, ran across the room and hugged her, happy to see her smiling face. She looked tan, relaxed and happy.  

Now then, the rest of my Tuesday: 

So, the voting is over. I have no idea who won, as I haven't been out of my vegetative state long enough to check the score board. Given the number of voters who told me their preferred candidates (I didn't ask), I have a good idea. 

There were many die-hards, lacking the basics in civics, who came in just to vote in the Presidential primary, forgoing their right to cast ballots for Senator, Texas representatives, railroad commissioners, justices of the peace, dog catcher, prom queen and Little Miss Rice Patty. I guess these folks forgot that Little Miss Rice Patty sometimes has higher asperations and wants to eventually go on to bigger and better. 

The line at our location Tuesday was an hour wait. Nobody, I mean NOBODY, came in ugly, complaining or whining about standing in that line. Many times me or my clerks told these voters about other polling places close by where there were no wait times. And yet, nobody left the line either. We closed the polls at 7 p.m. However, anyone standing in line at 7 had a chance to vote. Therefore, our last voter left at 7:30. I should also note, I am absolutely astonished at the number of people who thanked us for doing our job. 

I would also like to point out that nobody, and I mean NOBODY, got the least bit nasty or disrespectful about their neighbor's countering opinion. Everyone seemed to agree we were on Team America. 

There was a faction of folks over a certain age who were beyond cantankerous about the new-fangled technology they were forced to use. "Why can't I just have a pen and paper like the old days?" Because of my Ph.D., in calming down Grumpy Old Men, I jumped from station to station, showing them how to use our voting machines. It is amazing how truthfully saying, "I like you. You remind me of my father. He used to say similar things in this situation," makes a difference and keeps them from rioting.

At the end of the night, I had to drive to the New Boston courthouse with my clerk and turn over my ballots. Every ballot was accounted for (YAY!) and then I drove my clerk to her friend's house in Arkansas--a tid-bit she neglected to mention when I offered to drive her home. 

I made it to bed by 11 p.m. and didn't even notice Luna taking up 3/4 of my side of the bed. 

There are four more elections in Bowie County this year, with the biggie in November. Do I want to be a judge in any or all of them? Not sure at this moment. I'll make that decision later when I am more awake. 

Day Off

Tomorrow is Super Tuesday. I'm not working at the church of Christ. This is a whole different location, with a different crew. And it is the busiest location in Bowie County. My co-judge, Ms. Ellen is amazing, wonderful and I am honored to have worked with her in the last election. However, Friday she was rushed to the hospital. So, now I'm working with my boss, Ritchie, a Bowie County Elections official. 

I happen to like Ritchie, but I don't want to work with him at the busiest voting station in Bowie County (Why, Ritchie did you assign clueless me here when there are 24 little churches around the county which won't be nearly as busy). The good news is I'm working with someone with more experience than me. Last week I was the "expert" when Kara left on her family emergency. 

Today to get ready for tomorrow's marathon, I've packed an extra set of clothes. You see, disabled folks have the option of "curbside" voting, where we take the machine to them. They don't have to get out of their car. It is supposed to storm tomorrow. All day. Those voters won't get wet.  

I've also made a batch of chicken enchiladas for my crew. We can't leave during the day, so last week Ms. Ellen and I arranged a potluck for tomorrow. One of our clerks is making her "cowboy soup." I asked what went into it. Here's what she said (hold on:): "I start with two cans of chicken noodle soup, I add two cans of Wolf Chili without beans, then I add a can of Veg-All and a can of potatoes..." and then I tuned out. We have two clerks who are under the age of 20 who will also be there. One is bringing chips and salsa. The other I've worked with before and I'll be thrilled if she just has a ride home. So, I'm happy to feed her. Now that Ritchie, a confirmed bachelor is my other judge, I'm getting the impression I'm feeding everyone. 

In addition to all that, I've set my three alarms for 4:00 a.m., 4:02 a.m. and 4:03 a.m.

Later today I have to set up the equipment at the voting station. Originally Ms. Ellen was helping me. I'm not sure who is doing it now. Fortunately, it's Buckaroo's day off. 

Today's other tasks included, washing the dog, deep-cleaning the kitchen and folding laundry, in case you were interested. I'm pretty sure you weren't, but I thought I'd throw it in there anyway. 

Here's to Democracy Republicacy in action.  

Playing with Dirt

Before one can play with plants, one must play with dirt. 

Yesterday, the weather and my time finally cooperated enough to put together this flower bed. Before it was a flower bed, it was just lawn and a frost-bitten oleander bush. I cannot confirm nor deny I might have covered up the sprinkler. I guess I will find out once I activate them again. 

I planted Texas Bluebonnets (which are lupines), daisies, zinnias and sunflowers. In an effort to impede the critters who like to eat flower seeds, I also put down copious amounts of cayenne pepper under that mulch. 

Next week I'll probably plant a few actual plants to go along with the seeds. 

By the way, in the morning, we watch the cardinals, blue jays, whippoorwills, siskins, chickadees and goldfinches eat their breakfast. We've seen an acrobatic squirrel or two attempt to help themselves to birdseed on occasion. I also have a hummingbird feeder, but it isn't currently out.