Sunday, May 28, 2006, 22:43
The Best-Laid Plans (Often Go Awry. . .)
The two-day craft sale at Fall Creek this weekend was a real bust. It would appear that the centennial celebration committee failed to advertise the craft sale.
The craft sale was scheduled to be open from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Saturday and from noon to 4 p.m. Sunday. By 10 a.m. Saturday, no one had been through the craft sale except the vendors themselves walking around talking to each other. About 20 vendors had set up at the craft sale. By 11 a.m., perhaps 10 people had wandered through. By noon, a number of vendors were talking about leaving. At 1 p.m., several vendors left. By 2 p.m. several more had left.
I stuck it out until 2:30, and then I packed up and left also, as did several other vendors. I drove 96 miles round trip . . .and sold 2 books, both of them, I believe, to vendors at the craft sale.
I knew something was up as soon as I drove into town. I saw only three or fours cars on the street -- and no signs of any kind indicating that this weekend was the town's centennial celebration.
My first thought was, "Am I here on the right weekend?"
In this neck of the woods, a city or village's 100th birthday is usually a very big deal.
I drove through town until I came to a regular street sign that said "school." According to the letter I had gotten, the craft sale would be at the middle school along with a quilt show. I turned down the street indicated by the sign and drove several more blocks. Then I saw a small sign on the boulevard that said "quilt show." Nothing about the craft sale.
One of the vendors said she had called one of the craft sale organizers earlier to say that 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. was too long for a craft sale. Which is true. By 2 p.m. at all of the craft sales I have been to so far (more than 20 all together), the sale is pretty much over. Attendance falls off at 1 p.m., and then by 2, only a few people will wander through. Of course, that assumes there's been any attendance to begin with! Most craft sales shut down at 3 p.m.
I did not go back to the craft sale today. I didn't figure it was worth it to drive 96 miles round trip again.
It is hot today. The temperature topped out at 95 degrees this afternoon. Randy and I went to the Farmer's Union in town this morning after church to buy some tomato plants and a few petunias and some marigolds and pansies and portulaca and geraniums for my tubs.
I *was* going to plant my tubs this afternoon. Randy borrowed a plow from a friend and plowed up our pumpkin patch. The Big Max pumpkins seeds we planted in pots are doing well and could stand to be set outside now.
While Randy was cleaning up the plow and greasing it prior to taking it back, I figured I would pull some of the weeds and volunteer sunflowers growing in my little garden by the basement.
Big mistake.
After about 20 minutes, I felt downright dizzy and terribly sick to my stomach. It was just too hot out to be working in a garden. Not that it is all that hot, I know. It's just that we are not used to it! Two weeks ago, we had sleet and highs in the 40s. Now the high was 95 today. I need to work into these things more gradually than this.
At any rate, I figured the plants might appreciate it anyway if I waited until this evening when it is cooler to set them out in tubs. (Over the years, Randy has found several big galvanized wash tubs for me when he has taken our trash to the dump. . .errrr. . ."collection station" as the county prefers to call it. You know what they say, "one man's trash is another man's treasure.")
This morning on our way into town, we swung around to look at the Foods Resource Bank plot just up the road from us. The corn is sprouted and is an inch or so high!
I was disturbed to see, however, that of the two ponds that are across the road from the field, one is now dried up completely and the other is almost dry. Both of these ponds together, when they are in their prime, occupy a spot that is around two acres in size or maybe a little more.
We did get some rain last night. A quarter of an inch. But with 95 degrees today and windy, the rain has all evaporated away.
LeAnn R. Ralph
Friday, May 26, 2006, 20:37
Going Green for Memorial Day
I have declared war on the beetles at the cemetery that eat my flowers down to nothing but stems.
Of course, the pot that I put out at the cemetery for my mom and dad has nothing to do with flowers any more.
Years ago, I discovered that any kind of flowering plant at the cemetery was like honey to a bear -- or canned cat food to a dog -- or apples to a horse -- as far as those brown striped beetles are concerned.
It only took one time of coming out to the cemetery and finding nothing left but stems to convince me that flowers were not a good idea. Those darn bugs can eat flowers faster than anything I've ever seen -- including the pony that I had when I was a kid (Dusty) who could clear out a flower bed in just a couple of bites. (Dusty appears in all three of my books. And her penchant for eating flowers is highlighted in my next book *Where the Green Grass Grows* which will be available this fall.)
One lady who has family buried at the cemetery has declared war on the beetles in her own way. She goes around with big cans of powdered insecticide and dusts the couple of pots that have live flowers. When she's finished you can't see the flowering plants because they are covered with white dust. And who knows what else has been contaminated by the insecticide. But the bugs leave the plants alone after that.
Many other people with loved ones at the cemetery have solved the bug problem by putting out silk flowers.
I can't do that.
Well, I *could* do that -- except that I am pretty sure my mother would come back and haunt me. She hated silk flowers. Her attitude was that if you resorted to something artificial like silk flowers in memory of a loved one, then why bother doing anything at all.
The other thing, of course, is that my mother would have been outraged, incensed, fit-to-be-tied to find out that bugs were eating her flowers.
Dad would not have been thrilled with the bugs, either. What farmer *would* be thrilled with bugs after spending a lifetime of trying to keep insects out of various crops and out of the granary and out of the cow feed in the feed box in the barn and what-not?
So here's how I have solved the problem. I plant greens in the pot. Then I put in plant stakes. Some of the plant stakes have glass flowers on them. Two of them are dragonflies. One is a little wheelbarrow. Another is a bunny rabbit. And one is a garden fairy with a lyre.
The "greens with plant stakes" idea works great. The bugs won't eat the greens. The plant stakes add a nice visual effect. And the lady with the insecticide does not feel compelled to dump a pound of the stuff on my flower pot. (She means well, I know. But still.)
So this morning, when I went into town to get a different antibiotic for my little kitty, Juliette, seeing as she is still in and out of the litter box, in and out of the litter box after being on amoxicillan for five days, I stopped at the Farmers' Union to see what they had for greens. (Otherwise the nearest closest place to buy that kind of thing is 15 miles away. And who wants to drive an extra 15 miles when gasoline is $3 a gallon?)
Every year the Farmers' Union puts up a little plastic greenhouse close to the sidewalk. And when I walked into the tiny, sweltering structure this morning -- it has turned hot and humid around here -- I was delighted to see that they had all kinds of things that would work in my pot. And that would make my mom and dad happy, too, seeing as they spent years doing business with the local Farmers' Union cooperative.
Here's a picture of the pot after I planted it. Randy and I will take the pot down to the cemetery this evening, and then we will do some other clean-up, as well. There's this thorny-picky thing that keeps growing up in the daylilies between Grandma Inga and Grandpa Nels' gravestones that ends up taller than I am. Every year, Randy chops it down, and then the next year, it comes right back. . .
LeAnn R. Ralph
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