Quite contrary, how does your garden grow?

May the 4th was planting day at Minnesota Transplant’s house.

We invested in whole bunches of flowers, herbs and tomatoes, and my Beloved played in the dirt all day today to give them new homes.

The bag of potting soil looks like it was eviscerated:

But the deck looks festooned for a big event. Here are the rail planters, complete with greenery that looks like raindrops:

And the pot in the corner of the deck:

And the hanging planters:

And the planters at the foot of the deck stairs (one’s a tomato plant):

He worked out front, too. Here are the hanging planters on the porch:

That geranium in the pot on the walkway looks like it needs an extra dose of Miracle Grow. Here’s hoping all the new plants fare better than the rhubarb seedling we planted a few weeks ago. Here’s how it looked today (this one’s for you, Mom):

Boom, the curtain falls on January

As if with a swoosh of a paint brush, January is gone.

Wow, the first month of the new year is behind us, and I can hardly believe it. Those 31 days zoomed by for me, probably because I was house painting for the first three weeks of the month. I fell into bed every night, exhausted.

Now, of course, I’m reveling in my thick carpet and unblemished walls. It was worth it, and we’re thinking of tackling the pantry and my office with paint brushes (and, if I’m very, very good and very, very lucky, crown molding in my office).

There’s no rest for the wicked! February looms, and it’s dotted with special events. Groundhog Day, the Super Bowl (is anyone else psyched about the Honda commercial riffing on “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off”?), Valentine’s Day (my Beloved and I are negotiating on how to celebrate), Presidents Day, Mardi Gras, Ash Wednesday and an extra-special extra day of the month: Feb. 29. I’m also hoping to celebrate some more 50-degree days like I got in January — that’s special.

With all that’s going on, I looked for a quote online and found this gem, which made me chuckle, it’s so full of doom and gloom.

“February is a suitable month for dying.  Everything around is dead, the trees black and frozen so that the appearance of green shoots two months hence seems preposterous, the ground hard and cold, the snow dirty, the winter hateful, hanging on too long.”

~  Anna Quindlen, One True Thing

Here’s to hoping for more out of February than, well, dying. Here’s to sunshine and light.

Twins make winter headlines, heighten anticipation

Minnesota Twins’ Joe Mauer made headline news in the Chicago Tribune today.

Normally, I don’t even open the sports pages during the winter because I care about baseball, and the “hot stove league” is boring; baseball writers are just filling news columns with speculation and in my neck of the woods, it’s speculation about Chicago teams.

Yawn.

But today, columnist Phil Rogers’ headline read: “Hometown hero now costly drag: Mauer’s huge, long-term contract hurting Twins more than it helps.”

Rogers’ point was this: Joe Mauer and Justin Morneau cost the Twins too much and can’t deliver, and he made a compelling case. He wrote, “It’s tough building a 25-man roster with two players getting 35 percent of the payroll.”

What I find interesting is that White Sox fans are watching the Twins so closely, even in wintry January. Is Rogers’ sour grapes attitude a reason to cheer for Twins fans?

Coincidentally, it reached 40 degrees this morning near Hampshire.

Warmer temps (however temporary) and Twins headlines in a Chicago newspaper whet my appetite for baseball and the clean slate of a new season.

Only 39 days to the first game of spring training. Ahh.

66 days ’til spring

Well, we knew it couldn’t last. The unseasonably warm winter came to an end Thursday when the precipitation falling from the sky turned from water into icy flakes.

About four inches of snow fell overnight last night, and my Beloved broke out his ridiculously overpowered new snowblower.

Take that, Old Man Winter!

That machine throws snow 25 feet, easy. The snowplow driver this morning went back and forth in front of our house five times, competing with Tyler as he blew snow from our driveway into the street and the snowplow driver attempted to get back to clear asphalt. Tyler won.

Tonight, as we were soaking in the hot tub, big fat snowflakes fell into the hot bubbly water and disappeared into the steam.

Consider yourself warned, Jack Frost: Snow doesn’t stand a chance around here.

Skate dates

Dec. 29, 1980

Dear Diary,

I went skating twice today. When I went this afternoon, I went with Carrie and Wayne & Rick were there. In fact it was kinda fun. I almost called Tim. I am afraid that he doesn’t like me. Or maybe he thinks I don’t like him but if that’s the case, he is dead wrong.

Ice skating has always held a certain romance for me. When I was growing up on the frozen tundra of northern Minnesota, the ice skating rink was a hub of activity. A place to meet and greet. To see and be seen. Long johns and down jackets were ways to look fashionably attractive (or so I thought).

Back then, I did what good Minnesotans are supposed to do: Enjoy winter with outdoor activity. Ice skating in almost any temperature (and wind chill) was one way to while away a cold day, even if you spent most of the time in the warming house.

Now I while away the winter by staying as far away from the outdoors as possible, but I still think of ice skating as a romantic activity.

My stepson, who lives with his mother in Minnesota, got new ice skates for Christmas, he told me last night (apparently, the rules about opening Christmas presents on Christmas don’t apply at his house). Many of his friends play hockey, and he was happy to report he could skate backward and he was “pretty good out there.”

I didn’t care about his prowess at checking, but he mentioned his girlfriend has ice skates, too. “Oh, how romantical,” I said with a flourish on the imaginary word romantical.

I smiled, thinking about the crushes I nursed around those rinks in the ’80s, about holding hands while taking corners, about leaning on a boy to keep from falling. And I hoped my stepson feels those same warm flutters of the heart at the chilly rink.

 

Countdown to longer days

Three, two, one …

When you grow up in northern Minnesota, you notice the length of days.

As autumn closes up shop and winter takes up residence, the shortest days of the year cause the sun to set at, oh, about 4 p.m.

It’s at this time of year we really need those Christmas lights. To light up the afternoon.

But the countdown is on. Only two days left until winter solstice. After Wednesday (in the Central time zone of the U.S. anyway), the days start getting longer again.

Every day, a few more seconds of precious daylight.

The thought of longer days and more sunlight reminds of this line I heard in the movie “Black Swan” recently:

“Everything will be better in the morning. It always is. Sweet girl.”

Isn’t that true? No matter what weighs on your mind, the scene looks better in the bright light of day.

Even when the morning comes a minute sooner.

In just three days.

God’s flocking

First snow of the season fell last night.

At least, it was the first snow of the season for me (I don’t know if it snowed here in northern Illinois last week when I was enjoying the balmy humidity of Mexico’s west coast).

I captured this flaky drapery during this morning’s walk around the block, and it even adorned the top of the water tower as the sun rose, but I suspect it’ll be gone before the day is.

Dust of Snow
By Robert Frost

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

Not the crow's nest, perhaps, but this perch made me glad for my down jacket and knitted gloves.

Autumn cleaning

It was 65 degrees today, and I was reminded of how much I enjoy autumn here in northern Illinois. The coat I wore when I left the house this morning ended up in the back seat of the car by 11:30 a.m.

Still, the spring jackets can go into storage by Nov. 15. It’s time to face the inevitable.

With an idea towards the seasonal changeover, I reorganized the entryway closet during the Bears game on Sunday. The Bears obviously didn’t me cheering for them.

Closet: Before

Among the treasures I unearthed: three dog leashes, eight doggie coats (she’s such a clothes horse), enough winter accessories to outfit a winter emergency kit for the car, and three single gloves (trash can!). I sorted through the shoe chest at the same time where I found three unmated shoes. Too bad I don’t know a three-footed, three-handed person.

Closet: After. What a transformation!

If this inspires you, I picked up some great organizing tips at a networking lunch today from Jeannie Triezenberg, a certified professional organizer. Maybe they can help you, too:

• Pick a spot and stay there. If you’re cleaning a closet, stay at the closet. If you’re cleaning the kitchen, stay in the kitchen. Don’t be tempted to “put something away” and get permanently distracted.
• Set a timer. If the thought of sorting your junk drawer gives you the shivers, tell yourself you only need to work on it for 15 minutes. You can always do another 15 minutes tomorrow.
• If you haven’t used it in years, get rid of it. Here’s a specific hint for your clothes: Hang them all in one direction. After you wear a piece, hang it the other way. At the end of the season, you’ll know what you don’t wear and what you should consider getting rid of.
• Use the walls for storage. If you can hang it up (in the garage, in a closet, on the inside of a cabinet door), you’ll create floor space.
• Things you use together should be stored together. Everything you need to make Johnny’s lunch? In one cabinet. Everything you use to get ready in the morning? In a basket under the bathroom sink.
• New one in, old one out. This applies to anything, but one example is magazines. When the new one arrives in the mail, dump an old one.

Climate change wipes out one of nature’s inhabitants (for a season anyway)

Grasshopper Gazette
Final Edition

SOUTH OF MINNEAPOLIS, Minn. — The suburban Minneapolis population of grasshoppers succumbed to icy cold temperatures this morning.

Over 95% of the population was wiped out. This reporter is among only a handful of survivors, and most expect to die tonight, when temperatures dip into the 30s for the second night in a row.

“It’s a massacre,” said One-Eyed Green, who watched dozens of members of his family slow down and then stop. Forever.

This climate change is unlike any seen by any grasshopper living in Minnesota. Temperatures this cold have never been recorded, though archeologists believe suburban Minnesota may have been as cold as 30 below zero eight months ago.

It was only Tuesday when thousands of grasshoppers were living a merry life in this field of yellow grass. Grasshoppers were hopping grass right and left. An enormous dog estimated to weigh at least 8 pounds pounced into the glen attempting to pin down a grasshopper, but it was unsuccessful and eventually departed.

“It was 60 degrees that day,” Green said. “Evading that perky dog was child’s play. Who knew the end of the world would come the next day?”

Schizophrenic seasons

The maple trees look like Christmas trees:

Get it? Red and green? The maple trees along the bike bath near my house are turning from top down, so the tops are crimson and the bottoms still look like spring.

And then there’s this albino pumpkin (thanks, Jeff and Kathy). It doesn’t look autumnal, it looks like winter …

The schizophrenia extends to the back yard, too. I mowed the fallen leaves off the lawn yesterday — on Oct. 10 — and discovered lush green grass underneath. I thought I was done mowing two times ago.

Of course, I’m one to talk. It must be the full moon (and it is) because we’re intending to camp this weekend. In October. In Minnesota. Talk about crazy!