All Winding Roads Lead to Nausea
On the way home from critique group the other day, Hubs mentioned he wanted to take a drive. A drive, I thought, smiling inwardly. Visions of the open road and lovely spring vistas tiptoed through the recesses of my mind. Deep and meaningful conversation punctuated with loving side glances.
Sigh.
We’d taken a lot of drives over our shared three decades together, from dating days to early marriage and parenting years and beyond–although our excursions in the beyond category had been few and far between as of late. So imagine my delight when he suggested it–until he added the part about wanting to drive the route for his upcoming fondo. (That’s cycling lingo for an organized endurance ride.)
SIGH. Road closed and barricaded.
“Did you want to go alone?” I asked.
“No, you can come along,” he said.
Sigh. Road reopened.
So the next day we headed to Defiance–town, not attitude–to the location where the fondo would start. Open road–check. Inspiring view–check. Soul-baring conversation with occasional nods from mostly attentive husband–check, check.
Finally we arrived at our destination, a parking lot that would serve as starting point for the fondo. Still conversing, I looked over at him midsentence, waiting for his knowing glance. He stopped and took in the area, then his eyes met mine.
“Here’s the route,” he said, thrusting a paper with street names toward me. “Keep up.”
Aha! It all made sense now. He needed me along to navigate.
SIGH. Okay, good attitude, good attitude. Sigh. “Sure.”
He drove on as I fed him the directions. The roads were curvy and hilly, winding in every which way. I took in the scenery between downward glances at our itinerary. This was fun.
Until a sick feeling descended upon me. Nausea. Me and winding roads have always had a temperamental relationship.
I dug into my purse for a peppermint. Out. SIGH. “Can you slow down? I feel sick.”
“Don’t look at the paper,” he said. “I can do it.”
He slowed down and opened the windows. I stared straight ahead and breathed in the cool spring air and let him know we’d need to stop for some peppermints.
“I don’t know where we’re going to find a place that has peppermints,” he said. “By the way, what’s for lunch?”
SIGH. “Cooking is about the last thing I want to do.”
After several more miles, we hit the interstate, the winding roads finally behind me. A few more miles and he turned off and took another highway, heading into a small town. I spotted a drugstore–peppermints. He pulled into a barbecue restaurant next door, the smell of grilled meat permeating the air. I gave him a questioning look.
“You said you didn’t want to cook. We can get the peppermints after we eat.”
Oddly, at that moment, I wasn’t sick anymore. After a plate of pulled pork, cole slaw, and baked beans, I was a new woman. Call it male intuition, but the man gets me. Sigh. We headed over to the store for the peppermints, anyway.
Just in case.
Update: A couple of pics from Mike’s (Hubs) fondo.
Cyclists line up for the Vino Fondo 2017. Mike’s bike taking a break.
Seedlings: The Sequel
What a difference a week makes! While I ended up losing many of the previous seedlings, I was able to save most of the tomatoes and some cilantro. I also managed to learn a few things in the process.
1) Follow the instructions. By placing the grow light three inches above the tallest seedling and leaving the light on for eighteen hours, the plants did much better. Some new sprouts have even popped their little heads through the dirt to take the place of some of the dead ones.
2) Try new ideas. I had read that running my finger over the leggy seedlings would simulate the wind, which triggers the plant to grow stronger stems. I had my doubts this would work, but I was pleasantly surprised! By the second day I noticed a difference in those seedlings that had survived. Yes, you read that right! By the second day!
3) Keep at it. While that tray of seedlings was discouraging, a little TLC can go a long way to bring plants back to life.
And not just plants.
More garden adventures to follow!
Related posts: Leggy Seedlings: Don’t Let This Happen to You
The Useful Art of Daydreaming
A writer friend and I went out to lunch one day, and the topic of daydreaming came up in the conversation. She told me how growing up her mother often scolded her for daydreaming because, from her mother’s perspective, she was wasting time. Not doing anything productive. I had to admit that as a child I frittered away many an hour lost in my own thoughts.
Still do.
Being a writer I have every reason in the world to daydream. For one thing, it’s important work.
What, you ask? Daydreaming?
Yes, I said it’s important work for a writer to daydream. Where else do ideas come from? Thoughts allowed to drift in every which direction help me write stories and poems. And blog posts. But more than that, it transports me from the everyday mundane to the land of possibility. In a real, practical sense, it stretches me to believe for what could be in my life and the life of others. Often, daydreaming sparks prayer.
Important work, indeed!
So next time someone in your life startles you from your reverie, kindly tell them not to disturb you. You’re working. Chances are your loved one will chalk it up to another one of those crazy things and promptly leave you alone!
Related posts: Gifts of an Introvert
Leggy Seedlings: Don’t Let This Happen to You
I was thinking of an alternative name for this post, like “Friends don’t let friends garden badly,” but the cautionary warning won out instead. These leggy seedlings look awful, don’t they? I’m embarrassed to even post this. I’ve been growing my own garden for how many years? Twenty-six seasons. And that doesn’t include my childhood spent learning from the voices of gardening experience–my grandparents.
The truth is I haven’t had my grow light out for a while–a couple of years now. When I did use it, I just sort of planted stuff and hoped for the best. Coming off of hard winters, a few of those fighting depression, those little seedlings gave me hope. So whatever I did worked then–and thankfully so!
I’m in a better place these days. Life is pretty good. But when it comes to gardening, what once came easily is a challenge. Time for this girl to read up on leggy seedlings and grow lights.
The problem with leggy seedlings is that they are reaching for the light, and the farther the light source, the quicker they grow toward it, resulting in a spindly plant that won’t usually make it. My light was about a foot away from the tray. What I learned is that the grow light should be positioned about three inches above the tallest seedlings.
The duration of light exposure is also important. From my research, gardeners recommend the light be turned on for about eighteen hours. Mine was on for about fourteen.
So what do you do with leggy seedlings? Gently running a finger over the seedlings a few times a day to simulate wind actually causes some of them to adapt by growing thicker stems. I’m trying this out to see what happens. Some seedlings, tomatoes in particular, can actually be planted deeper and often survive it. Most seedlings don’t.
Though it’s late for starting seeds, I’ll plant another tray and see what grows. I’ll keep you posted.
Related posts: Seedlings: The Sequel
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