Gardening roots and Leeks

Leeks!  Leeks in the garden!




The secret appears to be this: buy a pot at the garden center in spring. (I tried sprouting my own and they didn't do very well.) 
Plant them.  Leave them all summer and most of the winter.
Dig them up in February, and hurray!






The other kind of leak, an intermittent spin at the water meter with no corresponding cause in house or yard, is not so enjoyable. But we have one.

Quaker Midwife mystery #2

Called to Justice
by Edith Maxwell

My second Quaker midwife mystery and I'm still not sure if I like it. No, no--of course I like it. What's not to like about a lady dressed in a dull grey dress and bonnet who occasionally dons her bloomers, leaps on a horse and gallops across country to visit the seashore?  Everything about this book is engaging and she even introduces a subplot of a unfriendly mother-in-law to be, although that one was a little contrived and had a "too quick" resolution. But I'm sure the mean mother will come back next issue.

So I'll continue. Plus, this one had a better mystery than the last.

Mammoth Weekend Hiatus

                                                          I always wanted to use that word in a title
                                                                                                                      --me
When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for two people to get some stinking housework done, Mammoth RVs must sit idle. I can't say that much housework did get accomplished but Ed washed the windows and resupplied the consumables. And also flushed out the black water tank.

There were two weekends left before a big holiday that would necessitate us leaving Mammoth behind--along with the cats but we'll miss him more than them--and traveling up to Ed's mother's house.  I had been having trouble getting up the enthusiasm to book another camping trip on one of the weekends. For one thing, the housework still didn't get done. And for another, the weather that time of year is typically whacko.

Heavy rains were scheduled to start on Thursday and continue through Friday. After that the weather looked lovely...but what if we were on one of those dreaded "7-day weather patterns" that often plague this area of the country?  It rained on Friday night--would it do so again?  If only I could get an accurate 20-day forecast!

Mammoth got scheduled for her heating system repair. We weren't sure the man knew what he was doing, but he seemed to talk well enough to satisfy Ed (who's no mean slouch of a repairman himself) and he was willing to let Ed hang around and learn. If only that could be fixed, the only major hitch (pun intended) is getting the tow dolly worked out.






We might be trying it out in a week. Stay tuned.

What they wentX go through

Craig and Fred
A Marine, A Stray Dog, and How They Rescued Each Other
by Craig Grossi

so often people write fiction that jumps in time, alternating between chapters with "then" versus "now." And just as often, I complain about it.  But--here, it works.

Craig and his faithful mutt Fred met in Afghanistan. So that's half of the story--how they bonded, traveled together, and even patrolled together until a lucky escape made it clear that it was way too dangerous to walk around in the dark looking for enemy combatants with an energetic dog for a companion. And eventually--against all regulations--Fred got shipped back to the States.

But now they're traveling around the United States and trying to adjust back to living someplace where loud noises don't mean artillery fire; strangers don't need to be watched in case they pull out a gun or detonate themselves; thunder and lightning are just a pleasant show in the sky.

It's a great memoir starring some great people. And dogs. Of course, dogs are always great.  

Gardening Roots, mid-February and Wow.

Stuff is coming up. But it's so blasted chilly all I did yesterday was pounding a stake into the ground, to hold the circular trellis for the snap peas.  They're up--about two inches tall--but it's not a great germination rate considering how many peas I planted. But give it a week.

The other new arrivals are broccoli and kohlrabi or bok choy (they're all the same thing so who can tell?), spinach, lettuce and maybe a tiny amount of carrots. The carrots might be weeds. Or wishful thinking.

Here's the alleged spinach:

No, I can't see it either. But it was there before I took the picture.

Mammoth's Second Voyage, Part 2

                                                         Oh why do you walk through the field in gloves,
                                                                                    Missing so much and so much?
                                                                                                        -Francis Cornford
In the morning--I think it was that morning--Zack was feeling so good that he actually started supporting his hindquarters with his little legs. I still kept some tension on the sling/harness around his lower belly, but only the tiniest bit of tension needed to keep him from falling. It was beginning to look like he may someday walk again!

I'd reserved a different campsite for Saturday, and just as we were getting ready to fix breakfast--admittedly, it was near ten o'clock--we got a call that the other campsite was vacant. We finished breakfast, "packed up," and moved over. Packed up is in quotes because there's not much packing required for a 200-yard move on level ground between one well-developed site and the next.  We just had to toss the dishes in the sink, pick up Zack's cage and squeeze in Mammoth's sides.


Not so mammoth now!

The new site was a little nicer with maybe a little more room. You could see the lake--if you looked steadily in the southeast direction and stood on tippy-toes. The spot beside us was empty but we didn't expect it to stay that way. I could check reservations online, but what's the point? It's not like we were going to occupy their space.

So we pokied around a little, walked back to the entry gate to get our official windshield sticker, did dishes, did a little clipping on Zack's out-of-control mane. Then we took a walk down to the boat dock. It was ridiculously close by. Very pretty lake, very shallow--said with a hint of disgust in his voice by the man who'd come down to fish off the boat dock. He said it was only four-to-six feet deep throughout except for the creek channel.

For a man who seemed to spend his life hunting and fishing, he didn't seem very happy with the world. But he did speak with enthusiasm about the possibility of getting into a school of crappie in the early winter and pulling out one after another. I know that feeling--from a long time back--of having the fish biting so fast you never wanted to stop, even if you were going to have to clean them yourself.

Maybe he'd ask his wife to clean them. She--a solid, smiling sort of woman--came down with him, sat on her chair and proceeded to snap on rubber gloves. They were fishing for catfish and smearing dough balls with stinky stuff, so the rubber gloves made sense....

Except...they didn't. To be honest, the very idea weirded me out. The two worlds collided--one: fishing--with hook, bait, scales and guts and all that involves--and two: wearing plastic gloves. Sanitary, disposable, single use plastic gloves. It seemed as ridiculous as camping with a charcoal fire; cooking over coals and washing dishes in a sink; going to the wilderness but sleeping on a bed--

Ouch. That's a lot of contradiction to resolve. I'll think on it and get back to you.

We walked through a brushy woods to the end of the point and discovered a quiet, silver pool with a tempestuous surface--bugs floating on top and tiny, silver creatures underneath, hitting the surface so hard that ripples overlapped and dissolved into a confusing mess. With binoculars I could see the action well but not have a clue of the size or shape or even species of the water-dwelling denizens beneath.

By the time we mosied back home, it was time to start charcoal for supper. The only problem with Ed as a travel companion is that he seldom eats lunch. Me, I can take or leave supper, but I have to have my breakfast and lunch. So I snacked.

From coming in and out of the RV entrance time and again, I finally began to understand the purpose of the little four-shelf unit the previous owner had attached to the back of a seat, right beside the entry. It was too little to hold anything of consequence and and it was useless while traveling--anything you put there would quickly vibrate off. But here's the deal--it was right beside the door. Twenty to forty times a day you'll be entering and exiting through that door, usually with your hands full. The purpsoe of the shelf is for the stashing of temporary items you need to take in an out a lot while parked. Flip flops, dog leashes, coffee cups, cooking utensils....  It's a truly lovely little shelf!

Some notes to add to our records and possibly a review I'll post online. It's a very crowded campsite but the sites are laid out such that everyone has their bit of private space. The sites on loop H (30-amp) aren't great, but would be okay if you were simply coming here to spend the day fishing.  But some of the sites on loop P (50-amp) have great views--for a north Texas reservoir. Sites P-8 through P-15, excepting P-12 which is on the wrong side of the road, are on a slope directly overlooking the water.  They're spaced out, too, with plenty of privacy.  We're on P-4 and well satisfied with the best we could get on short notice.  But another time, go for the Big P's.

Other note--we had to ask for the firewood and the lady at the entrance said her husband would bring some by when he got off work. Of course, he never did. We weren't upset, but disappointed.

Still another note--not specific to this campsite--but it bugs the heck out of me--
What's with all the the Christmas lights?  It seemed like every other camper had strung up blue or white or multi-colored Christmas lights around his spot or else laid them on the ground. They didn't turn them off when night time came, either. Seems downright silly to me. I go out to see the lovely moon and the stars and the mysterious movement of tall trees overhead in a hint of breeze, whispering to each other as they stretch unseen limbs.

Christmas lights. I can see them by stepping out my front door.

Notes from trip two:

1. Wind from a Texas norther (cold front coming in rapidly) makes Mammoth steer like an arthritic elephant.

2. The temperature inversion that often happens in the evening really messes with on-air TV reception. But research indicates that doing a rescan will often help, because the digital receiver might locate a different signal source for the channel. Apparently it locks into the first strong signal it finds for a given channel and remembers that location, even if it later goes out.  Will try that next time and let you know.

3. If you want a fire, take your own (heat treated) wood for a backup because some parks--like this one--may not have any for sale. I understand the importance of not spreading disease or bark beetles, and I'm not planning to haul wood all over the country.  But heat treated firewood is considered generally safe to take anywhere, except possibly in the state of New York.

5. If you're walking a short dog with problems in his back legs that make him even lower to the ground than he normally would be, keep an eagle eye on his backside and don't step directly behind him. But if you do, don't leave your boots on when you climb into the RV to get his cage.

6. So far I've seen more wildlife and birds in my own neighborhood than in any Texas park. But it's nearing hunting season--maybe they're hiding out.

7. Always assume hooking up the utilities is a two-man flashlight-equipped job. Or maybe one man with a headlamp. I was out goofing off walking the dogs until I realized someone was going to electrocute himself by fumbling around in the dark. My Number One Job is designated flashlight holder.

Yet another Hollywood memoir--what's my deal?

The Girl on the Balcony
by Olivia Hussey

A little long, but always entertaining. The most unexpected thing about this television, Hollywood and theater star was her friendship with the guru she called Baba. He seemed to be the real deal--prayerful, insightful, loving and honest. I wish I'd known him.

If you're a person who is interested in Hollywood in the late 1960s and 70s, you have to read this book. Most of the name dropping was lost on me; of course I knew Dean Martin but not his son whom she married, and Elizabeth Taylor and Marlon Brando and the many, many other actors she worked with in her long career.  But there's much more to this story than, "I saw him," or "I worked with her, her and her." There's a true story of a flawed and wonderful human being.

Gardening my Roots, not Spring

Three really hot days followed by a supposed shower tonight and a severe dip in temperature. Tomorrow night should be below 30. If anything came up, would it survive?

Peas and spinach, yes. Broccoi and bok choy, probably. But carrots? Dunno.


Answer: peas were up, just a little. But nothing else.  I thought I took a picture but the camera disagreed.

But...peas are up!!!

Mammoth's Second Voyage

                                                               You Must Adjust Google Map Time Estimates
                                                                                                                 For RV Travel
                                                                                                                                  -me

On the Friday after Thanksgiving we undertook a journey that Google estimated at two hours fifteen minutes. On the last trip I had a gut feeling that this wasn't going to be accurate, but since I didn't measure, I didn't know. Now I do know:
         not accurate.
But by how much?

In future, I will know. Every trip will be recorded with these statistics:
1. Planned miles
2. Estimated time (google)
3. Adjusted estimate (mine) based on experience
4. Actual miles
5. Actual time
6. How come?

For tracking purpose, this trip was a washout. But here's a crack at the stats:

McKinney, Texas to Maudlin Lake Park on Wright-Patman Lake near Texarkana. Route: US 380 to I-30 to US 67 to SH 8.
1. Planned distance: 145 miles
2. Map time estimate: 2:15
3. Adjusted estimate: unknown
4. Actual distance: probably pretty close
5. Actual time: don't know
6. Stupid Iphone mapping app took us on a scenic route through Greenville. It might have been shorter, and maybe even faster, if we'd been in a car--but not in an RV. Stop at light, stop at sign, turn left, turn right, turn it all around....

We made three stops total--a bathroom break on the shoulder, a stop in Mt. Pleasant to get gas, and one at a Brookshire's Spring Market in Naples to pick up sour cream and bacon bits. Plus when we got off in Mt. Pleasant on 271, instead of getting back on the interstate, we continued along 67 to hit the park from the north side. The planned route had us staying on the interstate until 259 and then taking 77 east, which would have been straighter and taken us in from the south.

Now to the important stats, from my journal: East Texas is gorgeous this time of year. The trees are still hanging onto golden and orange leaves against a backdrop of huge green pines, jeweled in understory with the crimson of sumac.  I waxed poetic,
            Why are the leaves still hanging in colors?
            Shouldn't they be brown, carpeting ground
           And the trees all bare?
No matter--they are not. They were awesome.

We were heading east, and as the sun dropped down behind us, the autumn colors intensified. For a while we traveled through a swamp with that gaseous smell I always associated with the swamps on the west of Texarkana. From the map they might be part of the Red River...I'll need to research that.  Or maybe it's sulfur, since it's called the Sulfur River. That's the river that makes up Wright-Patman Lake.

The lake is huge on the map, but we didn't see it. We arrived sometime around four-thirty only to find our campsite was still occupied. The people who reserved it had accidentally left off a Friday right in the middle of a two-week reservation. Not knowing if we were going to show up or not, they simply left their trailer parked and headed off shopping in the nearest town.

The campground host called them and they agreed to return immediately, but that left us sitting in a parking lot at the gate for an hour. It may have been more than an hour--I didn't time it. We took a walk and ate some snacks; killed time. There was nothing to see and no birds to watch. I wish now we'd spent more time chatting with the lady in the office--she traveled fearlessly inside and out in a motorized wheelchair. An interesting job for a disabled person; I'd have liked to know her story.

So by the time we were parked and starting to hook up, it was dark enough to need a flashlight. And a flashlight holder--me. But hookups were accomplished without problem and soon we were fully functional. The furnace, of course, didn't work but a space heater kept Mammoth's inside warm and toasty.



We chose to cook outside over our darling little mini-grill, so I set up a grill basket of vegetables, made two skewers of veggies for Ed, set out marinated fish for me and rib-eye steak for him. We soon learned, however, that the grill basket takes up the whole top of the grill. The skewers, laying on top of it, weren't feeling the heat.  Another time we should just do everything together.

Other than that things worked out fine. What didn't work so fine, though, was bedtime. Zack realized he was in a lonesome place, hearing strange and unusual noises from outside, and not able to smell our body scents. He began to whine and scrape at his cage door; a yip was coming any minute. I lay awake feeling guilty because I'd forgotten his nighttime pain medication. (That's not as awful as it sounds--we were told to gradually taper it off and he'd had doses the previous evening and morning)

But after a minute of guilt I got up. Smearing the capsule with a dollup of wet food, I crammed it down him. Then I put on a hoodie and jeans and curled up on the recliner with him at my feet. Sadly, I'd forgotten how to make the recliner recline--after a minute of twisting and turning and completely failing to find a position of relative comfort, I felt down all over the outside, front, and footrest of the recliner.  No secret button and no Accio spell to summon it. I even fetched the flashlight to look.

Finally I sat back down and my sleep-deprived brain woke up enough to use logic. I'd checked every surface--right, left, up and down--excepting one. The inside crack. You that place where keys, remote controls, and bits of snack food always end up disappearing until they eventually drop on the floor when you move the sofa?

That's where the magic lever resided. With the footrest extended, I was able to contort my body into a sleep-capable position.  Not ideal, but it sure beat the airline economy seat I'd been stuck in one month before.  And whether it was the drugs or the nearby odor of my unwashed human carcass, Zack closed his eyes and worried no more.

Not so bad mystery--but not so good either

Tagged for Death
by Sherry Harris

Despite my lack of thrilled-ness with this book, I'm going to sign up for another one. This was a first in the series and had a Goodreads rating of 3.85, later books had ratings at about 4.0. That seems to be a pattern with series--the first book is tried by a lot of people, who then determine it's not to their tastes and so they neither read nor rate the later books in the series.  That's my theory, anyway,

So I'm giving this series a B for potential. Her writing is lively but not trendy; her characters all have a backstory but she doesn't bang us over the head with it up front; her situations are real. And her main character is considering making a living at helping people sell their stuff. She's absurdly nosy, but at least she has a backbone.

Meanders With Mammoth - A Maiden Voyage

                                                    I'm not sure that means what you think it means.
                                                                                                        -Inigo Montoya

The climate reverted from winter to fall and it was time. We decided on a Friday overnight for our first trial trip. But I soon found that Texas State Park campgrounds are all booked on Fridays, all Fridays. My park of choice--Lake Tawakoni State Park--had every Friday booked from then until December.

We thought about switching to a Sunday night, but there was rain in that forecast. Finally, about three days before Voyage-Day, I checked the reservation system again and found an opening had popped out.

So that was it. We were going to fire up the Mammoth Monstrosity and roll down the highway. Back it up into a campsite, shoot out the slides, and open the awning.  (We didn't need the awning--it was November and the weak sunshine at sixty degrees felt good on our heads. But we had an awning and were determined to use it.)

According to Google Maps, our destination was only about an hour away. The problem with Google Maps is that it shows you the fastest way to get to a place--by car.  Cars go from zero to sixty in ten seconds; they spin merrily around curves; they don't take up the entire space between center line and white line; and they typically have half of the overhead clearance requirement of an RV. My car's height is about five feet. Mammoth the RV: ten, maybe or ten feet six inches. Need to check.

What RV'ers need is an app that tells the best way to get there by RV. Or if not that, then by semi-tractor trailer. 
(I later discovered there are such apps; still working on picking the best one)

Anyway, we made it--despite Google's optimistic interpretation of route finding. There were a couple of times when I found myself all tensed up, expecting to feel the right-side tires hitting a hole and the whole creature flipping over on its side. There were quite a few places where we had to snake side-to-side to search out the highest spots of the overhanging branches.  And there were several occasions where I manually overrode Google maps--it kept trying to take us across shortcuts to get onto a faster highway--the faster highways wouldn't have been an issue, but the prospect of shortcuts on single-lane roads scared me spookless.

See, we're not at home anymore:

 

The campground appeared as promised and we were soon checking into site 53 with water and a 30/50 amp electric hookup. It was a very nice park with very nice campsites--we were right on the lake's edge. All that blocked us from a sublime view of the water was trees and a concrete pallet belonging to the neighbor's campsite.  They were nice neighbors and all they did was hang a hammock above the pallet and quietly snooze away the afternoon, but we didn't feel comfortable staring right past them in order to get the best view.  We politely faced our chairs to the other side.



 








Out goes the awning:

The hookups--water and electric--were masterfully mastered by Ed and soon we had a toilet that flushed, sinks that filled, and a television that--

What?  Camping--with television?  Are we total idiots or what?

Idiots. I'm not saying we turned on the television and watched it until nightfall, but after dark we did sneak in an episode of CSI Miami or some sort of cop show that Ed tends to watch. This was after building a fire and doing the requisite sitting around the campfire watching the flames dance. Dreaming the fire as Colin Fletcher says.

Our little dog Zack was confined to cage rest after surgery for a back problem that caused him to lose the use of his hind legs. We didn't know if he'd walk again, but at that point he was on so many drugs I wasn't sure if he even knew where he was or who we were. But so long as he could hear our voices and smell our bodies, he seemed content to be carried around in his little cage.



Mammoth the RV performed magnificently--until bedtime. Somehow we'd neglected to realize that the furnace didn't work. When we turned it on and set the thermostat, it came on and blew warm air for a few minutes, then stopped. It acted exactly as a heater would if its sensor was placed directly in front of its heat outlets.  But we didn't realize there was a problem, and went to bed assuming it was working despite the little chill in the air. And we went to sleep assuming we'd be fine in the night. We assumed, as you can guess, wrong.

Both of us woke up intermittently, freezing. Since I have hot flashes and am accustomed to intermittent spells of covers off/covers on, I didn't immediately realize what the problem was. I thought it was just me. I could have put on a jacket or grabbed one of the decorative comforters off the sofa. Not until sunlight sneaked in the windows did I wake fully enough to realize I was freezing.

Later we discovered that if you put the fan on FAN and not on AUTO, it blew heat constantly and warmed up the place from a chilly 50 degrees to a toasty 65. But by then it was time to depart and we didn't waste time to enjoy it.

Ed took the first shower in the new RV.   I washed the first--and second--load of dishes in the new sink. Also I got to use the stove first although Ed had to coax me in how to start the gas burners.  (Press in while clicking the sparker, then hold it in for a few seconds after it lights)
Dirty dishes:



It was a good trip despite the chill. We learned a few tips, which may or may not be helpful to share:

1. Floor space goes at a premium and should be fully respected. At home, you might take off your clothes, shoes, or coat and chuck them on the floor until needed next morning. If you do that in an RV, you'll find yourself tripping over them in the dark. I think that's the reason the previous owner had installed hooks on almost every surface in the bedroom and bathroom.

2. No matter how carefully you get into and out of bed, sooner or later you're going to whack your funny bone on something. There's about two inches of space between my pillow and the cabinet beside the bed. I've never been in the habit of tucking my arms close to my sides when getting in and out of bed, but I'm going to have to learn.

3. Izzy (our big dog) does not like sleeping in a cage. I promised to leave her loose in future and she promised not to shed on the carpet.

4. I'd have to be pretty desperate to go potty while the RV is moving. Hope that day never comes.

Gardening Roots, Does February Make Spring?

I did not plant rutabaga on Saturday, but this article made me want to:

Somewhere, in the misty meadows of Central Europe, a turnip got frisky with a cabbage, and the rutabaga was born.
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/kitchen-notes/what-rutabaga-does-better-than-anyone-else

I planted snap peas, spinach, lettuce, mesclun, bok choy, kohlrabi, and broccoli. The plants in the picture are from the store--I'd meant to start my own, but January bypassed my good intentions and I failed to start. The bok choy and kohlrabi were direct-seeded into the ground, which may have been a waste of seed but it's worked in the past.


I also loosened the soil in one of the other beds and spread compost. The soil had a very fine, pleasant texture, but on reflection that might mean anything good. That particular bed has been under cultivation longer than any others; last year it had lettuce, broccoli and okra and none of them did very well. Also, I didn't see a single earthworm. Last week, working a different bed, I saw loads of 'em.  More compost!



I found this masquerading as a noxious weed--
Is it my fault we have a certain weed here that looks a lot like carrots?

Meanders With Mammoth -- Still Stuck in Place

                                     No more than three of any implement are ever placed on the
                                                                    table, except when an oyster fork is used 
                                                                                  in addition to three other forks. .                                                              
                                                                                                                  -Emily Post

The only excuse I can offer for this lack of movement is that a massive vacation in South Korea occupied our thoughts and minds for about four weeks.  Or at least, my thoughts and mind. Ed seemed to be happily fitting Mammoth out--installing windshield curtains, picking out dishes, hooking up electronics and cleaning every surface in sight.



He was doing a great job, but I worried he was overdoing on the housewares. How many baking pans and casserole dishes and strainers and measuring cups do you really need in a motor home?  He seemed to think we were setting up for a trip around the continent, or a permanent relocation to the mobility lifestyle. Which would be fine except that I still had a full-time job paying the bills. I wish he'd redirect his efforts to the tool box and the engine compartment. We needed those things for any trip, short or long.













The tentative plan was to do a Friday overnight first, then think about a longer trip at Thanksgiving. But it was supposed to rain--a lot--on Wednesday. So maybe Friday week.