Inside: Accidentally growing peppers indoors during winter, our wild and windy March, and the blessing of misdirected packages.
Accidentally Growing Peppers Indoors During Winter
Last fall I happened to bring the shishito pepper I grew in a container indoors for the winter. I didn’t think it would live, to be honest, but I’ve been surprised. And more than once.
The first surprise came when the pepper decided to bloom—in January of all months. The next surprise appeared in the form of two teeny tiny baby peppers.
What?
How did that happen? I didn’t bring any bees inside for the winter. And while Winston the cat liked to rub up against the plant sometimes, I didn’t think it likely that he could have somehow pollinated the plant.
But then it occurred to Hubs and me that those little red and orange beetles that have been coming out of the woodwork during mild winter days might have done the deed. Upon doing some reading, I discovered that bees aren’t the only insects that spread pollen. Beetles have been known to help out with the tremendous work of bringing fruits, flowers, and veggies into the world.
It’s been a nice surprise considering time spent outside, weather-wise, has been mostly miserable. A happy little bit of nature indoors. And I have those sweet (annoying) little beetles to thank for it.
Our Wild and Windy March
I always look forward to March—the official start of spring as well as my birth month. Seeing trees and flowers abloom. Peepers heralding the new season. A change in the weather—more lamb less lion. But it seems to me this month has been one big ferocious roaring teeth-baring cat.
I’m cold, dang it!
Come March I really resent donning my winter coat. It’s time for coats and gloves to go on sabbatical. So I just refuse to wear them. As you probably imagine, I’m cold part of the time if my layers are insufficient, and they often are.
I’m thinking of investing in a heavy jacket. Something that doesn’t look wintery but has plenty of warmth—you know, like a coat. Then I can at least look like I’m ready for spring.
The Blessing of Misdirected Packages
I tend to make sense of my life through writing, but some things defy explanation. . . My cousin Phil passed away ten days ago.
Phil, his sister, my brother, and I grew up together. We built little play farms in our grandma’s backyard, among other adventures. There was only a year between Phil and me. He farmed the land next to us, part of the large farm my grandfather left to his sons. So Phil was my neighbor as well. In fact, we’ve lived less than a mile from each other for 45 years, the latter part of those years in hollering distance. When I look out my kitchen window, I see his land.
The day he passed away I watched him drive down to the woods in his Gator, followed by his dad in the tractor. I never would have imagined that would be the last time I’d see him. Working around our farms and homes, we lived much of our lives in plain sight of the other.
What does that have to do with misdirected packages? I’m getting to that. . . In the fall of 2016, Fed-Ex started delivering my packages and Mom’s to Phil’s home. This went on for about six months, and we were quite aggravated about it. We were all so busy and didn’t need the inconvenience—and didn’t want to inconvenience him because it was either fall harvest or spring planting or cutting wood in the winter.
But there would be Phil, package in hand, driving up to my place, and we’d stop to have a long talk, standing outside for close to an hour. Talking about life, farming, family. Remembering our shared values. Reconnecting. This happened a couple of times.
If it hadn’t been for those packages, we wouldn’t have taken the time to talk. So many times we let our busy schedules dictate our lives. The next thing on our to-do list is our priority. As I told Mom this past week, I think God couldn’t care less about our to-do lists.
As I try to make sense of losing my cousin, my neighbor, of looking down at his home and his sheds, half expecting to see him emerge with his dog beside him, I am so grateful for the blessing of those misdirected packages.
What’s happening in your neck of the woods? Tell us about it in the comments.
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Cheryl Carter
That is so interesting about the beetles! But now will you have to fumigate the house to get rid of them? Did they come in on the plant?
So sorry for the loss of your cousin. Farmers take on a persona that’s bigger than life at times. He must have held a special place in your life…
amy@amyharkemoore.com
Thanks, Calen. We miss him. :-/ We come from a long line of farmers, me included. I used to dairyfarm. These days it’s taking care of chickens and gardening to satisfy my farming genes, though I miss raising cattle.
No need to fumigate the beetles. I only saw them every so often, a few at a time, on milder days during the winter, and come spring they disappear altogether. Heading outdoors, I suspect. Not sure, though. I don’t know their life cycle.