Spirit Mound Hike

Last night at a party, a friend confided to me that she was so sick of canning and preserving, she just wanted to die.  I thought that might be a little dramatic until this morning, when I started going through the tomatoes in the house and realized I have about 3/4 of a box that needs to be dealt with.

Forthwith, I laid myself down on my bed and moaned.  The dog came over and made it clear that she thought it was awfully decadant of me to be lying in bed at 10 o’ clock in the morning, and that she’d had nowhere near her full ration of exercise lately.

“OK,” I said.  “We’ll go to Spirit Mound.”

I don’t usually hike Spirit Mound unless M is here–considering it a good way to give both the dog and the boy a good run.  My native Vermonter friends would snort at the idea that Spirit Mound is a “hike” at all–more like a leisurely walk to a slightly higher elevation.  But beggars can’t be choosers on the prairie.

The only part of the walk that could remotely be considered a hike is the final few feet up the backside of this chalky mound.

Then, once you hit the summit, you can look out over a vastly modified view of what Lewis and Clark saw when they ascended the mound in late August of 1804–no vast herds of buffalo, for instance, and the addition of numerous farmsteads, towns, and the shining hardtop of the Dakota Dome.

You can also see the Nebraska Territory–that dark line along the horizon that marks the bluffs on the south side of the Missouri River.  Lewis, Clark, and crew had a nine-mile hike from the Vermillion River to the summit, but we only have a 3/4 mile walk from the parking lot.

Big Bluestem--Spirit Mound Historic Prairie

As such, my dog suffered none of the ill effects of the journey that Lewis’ Newfoundland dog Seaman did.  And I always let her get a drink from the creek on the way back.

 

Quit the Bullsh*t–Public Option Now!

This is my seventh year teaching for the University of South Dakota.  I’ve taught every semester, summers included.  Last year, I finally got health insurance, which I’d been without for five years even while working full time.

I’m told it’s very good coverage though I wouldn’t really know–mostly because I don’t often have occasion to use it.  But last year, after my coverage started, I went to the chiropractor to have my neck and back adjusted.

I’d just started a full course load (all online), and returning to the screen for so many hours a day had cramped me up to the point where I could hardly sleep, work, or do much of anything else.

But now I had health insurance!  So I could go and get fixed up and get back to working normally!

It took several visits to the chiropractor–five, I think–to really get me back in line and back to work.  And then I found out that my coverage wouldn’t cover me because I hadn’t been covered before I got coverage.  And they called it a pre-existing condition because I’d had a neck/back adjustment before.

I called the insurance company. The receptionist at the clinic called the insurance company. The assistant called the insurance company.

Then, the chiropractor himself called the insurance company–all to explain to them that it wasn’t, in fact, a pre-existing condition.  That, in fact, it was a condition caused by the work I was assigned to do by the employer who was paying for my coverage.

Well, turns out my excellent coverage didn’t have to cover me at all–not at least for a six month window except in case of being smeared across the highway or some similar terrible accident (are you sure that’s not a pre-existing brain-splatter?)–all because I hadn’t had insurance before I had insurance.

This is the kind of thing that people who are fortunate go through with their insurance providers (or deniers, as the case may be).  Then there are those who have no coverage at all-whether they work full time or whether they’ve lost their job or whether they work very, very hard at their own entrepreneurial dream.

I’m sick of this attitude I hear from so many these days–the intense fear that someone, somewhere might get something for nothing, and that the only proper way to get anything is, of course, the way they got it, which is to work harder than anyone else on the planet to get what is now theirs and only theirs forever and ever.

I call bullshit.

We’re all working incredibly hard–look at the statistics.  We’re working hard for our employers; we’re working hard for ourselves and our families.  And if you’re constantly looking around for some example person or group to pick on for not working hard enough–then maybe you’ve got a little too much time on your hands.

And while we’re all busy working, we ought not have to worry so damn much about losing everything we’ve worked for because we got sick or because we got hurt.

Government exists, in part, to help us provide for ourselves collectively the things that are too much of a burden for us to get individually.  It seems a no-brainer to me that health insurance is one of those things.

The people who shout socialism about a public option for health insurance ought to have their nearby roads and bridges privatized, turned over to them, and then be fined every time there’s a crack or pothole–maybe then they’d get through their dense skulls what the hell government is for.

You know, By the People? For the People?

I voted for what I hoped would be some positive change in the way our country is run, but I also knew that there’s a lot that can happen between the ballot box and the change that was promised.

There are always a lot of other parties in the way–parties who will fight like hell against anything changing that might not turn out exactly perfectly or that they might get blamed for, or that they might not get enough credit for if it does turn out well.

We need to quit being too scared or too proud or too goddamned obstinate and petty to bring about the change we need–the change a clear majority of us asked for last November.

Instead of acting like a bunch of dysfunctional toddlers who won’t take our medicine, we need to stand up, be adults, and see that all of us get the medicine we need.  We need a public option for health insurance.

 

We Need Asparagus at the Farmers Market!

I posted this on the VAFM blog, but I’m posting it here, too.  If you are in the Vermillion, SD area and have a big asparagus patch (or want to expend the gas/bike power to harvest wild), customers at the market are paying up to $3/lb. for fresh harvested asparagus.

I’m unable to keep up with demand with our small patches, so I’m hoping we can find someone else to bring in a good amount.  See you at the farmers market!

Vermillion Area Farmers Market
Clay County Fairgrounds
Thursdays, 3-7pm
Vermillion, South Dakota

Vendor fees are $10/week or $150/season.

 

Volunteerism, Part Two

Since I was blogging about volunteer plants in my garden this morning, I thought I’d take the camera out and get a few shots of some of them.  I even found a new one today while weeding the spinach in the northeastern garden!

This bronze fennel was part of a failed seeding of fall salad mix.  I don’t remember ever seeing any of this fennel even come up, but here’s a plant that decided to make an appearance this year, and from which I’ll save seed. In the same bed, from an earlier sowing last year, a volunteer broccoli raab:

The thing is going nuts–it’s bigger than the stuff I have under row cover (because I’ve been cutting what’s under the cover–this is going to be for seed).  In the east garden, I’ve been working on mulching the aisles, but there’s a couple I can’t really mulch yet–here’s why:

All that feathery stuff along the sides of the row cover is volunteer dill.  Obviously, I didn’t have to actually plant it this year.  It’s also under the row covers amongst the cabbages, broccoli raab, and bok choy. Another herb that volunteers lavishly in my garden is cilantro:

The above shot is in the west garden, but it’s in the central and eastern gardens as well.

Not all of my volunteers get treated so nicely.  This volunteer Freckles romaine has had the hose dragged over it more than a few times:

A new one for me this year is the result of growing so many fingerling potatoes last year (and missing a number of tiny ones when I harvested).  I have volunteers of a couple varieties–this one’s an Austrian Crescent (which later got hoed, but the Purple Peruvians in the bok choy & raab row are safe for now).

The perennial green onions have been replenishing themselves via division and by volunteerism for years.  Because I let them flower for all the native pollinators, they also tend to drop a lot of seed.  What looks like grass in the foreground is actually tiny green onions.  What looks like grass in the background–well, that’s grass.  I’ll weed that row when there aren’t so many bees hanging out in it!

I don’t usually transplant or move volunteer plants unless they’re fairly high value and I have space.  This is one of the kale plants that volunteered in my window box at home this spring.  I moved them all out to the farm in order to have an earlier, bigger kale crop this fall.

The kale, I should mention, are volunteers of volunteers: a couple years ago I threw some kale seed in the north side bed of the home gardens–not to grow, but because it was old seed.  Some of it did grow, and one of those plants overwintered and produced seed. Not thinking the seed would be viable, I then tossed the seed stalk in the windowbox. Voila! Fifteen or so little kale plants!

Last but certainly not least of the volunteers is a given on Flying Tomato Farms:

This is probably a San Marzano or a Principe Borghese, and again, it’s a volunteer of last year’s volunteers based on its location in what is a yellow onion bed this season.  I’ve weeded around a few of these just in case I need to replace some plants on any of the trellises or in the landscape fabric’d bed, shown below:

This bed in the east garden is almost all shorter varieties of indeterminate tomatoes: San Marzanos, Principes, and some of the Zapotec/Marzano crosses I’m developing/stabilizing.  There’s a few open spots there (cutworms, probably, though I don’t usually have too much of a problem with them) that can host the volunteers from the west garden.

The idea behind this set-up is to allow the plants to sprawl over the top of the cages and onto the straw. The varieties are chosen both because they don’t get as tall/big, and they have thicker skin that’s not as prone to slug/insect damage. The landscape fabric both warms the soil and keeps weeds down (it’s hard to weed under the cages once the tomatoes grow through them).

Here’s the other set-up for tomatoes and pole beans on combination panels:

Tomatoes on the south side, beans on the north.  There’s just enough room between the tomatoes (planted 4 squares apart–a bit over two feet, I think) to put in basil, and there’s enough room behind the panel for a row of head lettuces.

This set-up requires pretty decent fertility–the beans will fix nitrogen eventually, and the tomatoes got some fish emulsion and compost when they went in.  The lettuce will get some love, too–though right now all I have for manure is chicken, and I read on the back of the Territorial seed pack of these Bingo shell beans that the salts in chicken manure aren’t good for beans (yup, learn something new every day).

In theory, the pole beans help to support the tomatoes–in practice, they need some help with that job.  I usually use either hemp twine that can be composted or re-used baling twine from the straw bales I get from Mike. It’s possible you could cant the trellis backward to let the tomatoes sort of lie on it, but that could cause some accessibility issues.

I also wanted to include this shot of the Prezzemolo Gigante parsley (seed from Pinetree Garden Seeds) in the northcentral garden.  It’s supposed to be very large and very sweet, and the flavor is very nice.  It’s also the biggest parsley I’ve ever had this early in the season:

How about one last image–from the farm looking south over the Vermillion River valley toward town (actually taken a few weeks ago, but it’s still pretty):

 

Here’s Winter!

The reason the WordPress geeks think it’s cute to have that snowflake motif on the dashboard is that they don’t live here.  They live where it’s warm and they hardly ever actually get snow.

They also don’t get windchills in the -20s like we have today.  At least our highs will be in the single digits above zero.  The highs today where my son and his dad live will be in the double-digits below zero.  Yes, I said the highs.  The wind chills there will be in the minus thirties to forties.

My truck broke down a couple days ago–this was pretty much directly after I picked it up from getting the oil changed and ended up replacing the battery as well–the old one was leaking so badly it was eating the side of my radiator.  Now the master brake cylinder is shot.  I’m hoping after this repair is done, I’ll get a little reprieve from high-priced truck updates.

So, dangerously cold temps and no vehicle (well, H has a couple should the situation become desperate).  I’m glad the pantry is stocked and I’ve got no real reason to go anywhere except a meeting at the library at 2.  I’ll put on an extra layer and pull my hood strings tight and it’ll feel like the years I didn’t own a vehicle and walked everywhere, no matter the weather.

 

Organizational Projects

I just spent the last two hours organizing my images folder.  Having started this blog not quite a year ago, my images folder has expanded drastically, and I haven’t really been keeping up with creating folders and socking them away.

Now that that is all neat and tidy, the next big organizational project is to clean up this very blog.  My categories have expanded into unruliness, so I’ll be going through the almost 400 posts and figuring out how exactly to categorize everything a little more tidily–the personal stuff, the community and sustainability issues, the political rants, and of course all the home and market gardening posts.

So, if you happen to notice that everything is suddenly an uncategoized mess, please bear with me as I get things straightened out.  It may take a number of days or even weeks, depending on other projects that come my way.

 

Holiday Potlucks

I’ve got two potlucks this weekend–tonight the English Department party at the Over Museum, and tomorrow night a private party at a friend’s house.

I almost always make a vegetarian dish for potlucks–though I’m no longer a vegetarian, I remember well what it was like to go to a potluck and have nothing to eat but what I brought.  That is not usually much of a problem anymore–especially at English Dartment functions, but I still think it’s a good policy.

You know someone’s going to bring a big bucket of fried chicken or a big crockpot of meatballs (usually a guy–Americanist or pop culture critic–see DeLillo’s White Noise if you don’t know the type), so it’s unlikely anyone’s meat cravings will go unsatisfied.

Today’s potluck creation was going to be vegan, but I succumbed to the call of the stick of butter on the counter and used it (not the whole thing) to saute the onions and mushrooms.  I think I’ll probably also garnish with cheese.  Once you break the dairy barrier, why not?

The final product will be a kind of crockpot barley risotto (which is not really a risotto at all, but it should have the same texture).  I parboiled the barley with a vegan bouillion cube, and while that was cooking, I sauteed a sliced yellow onion and some small chunks of those “baby bellas.”  Added some salt, pepper, and crumbled sage.

I set up the crockpot on low, and dumped in some frozen roasted summer squash and beans from this year’s garden.  When the mushrooms were shrunken a little and the onions lightly browned, I dumped a little red wine (maybe 1/4 cup) in to deglaze the pan, and scraped the whole caboodle into the crockpot as well.

Then, when the barley was about 2/3 to 3/4 done, I dumped that in, along with the extra broth in the pan that hadn’t yet been absorbed.  I put about a tablespoon more butter in there for a little more richness.  Then I used the wooden paddle to chop up the frozen veggie chunk in the bottom that was starting to melt from the added hot ingredients, and clapped the lid back on.

I really have no idea what this will taste like, but I think it’ll be OK.  I’ll check on it when I get back from the dog park this afternoon to make sure the barley got done and then mix in some grated Parmesan.

The nice thing about a potluck is that people only ask who made something if it’s good.  If it’s not great, you’re incognito.  We have a lot of fantastic cooks in the Department, so there’ll be something delicious to eat, even if I didn’t make it.

No plans yet for tomorrow night’s dish.  That’s thinking too far ahead!

 

Snowman Day!

With the warmer temperatures yesterday and the big, wet, thumbnail-sized flakes this morning, it’s a perfect day to make a snowman.

It’s also a perfect day to wage a snowball battle.

But alas, I won’t be doing either of those things.  I’ll be working on poetry essay draft critiques.  It might be a good time to get out and string the holiday garland and lights on the front porch rail, and wait to get my truck back from Bob’s this afternoon, so I can bring the snow-dog down to play with her friends.

Got a new pillow on which to rest my achey neck, and my newly-cropped now-auburn head.  Feeling a bit better-rested now and ready for this weekend’s first round of holiday gatherings.  What to bring to the English Dept. potluck?

 

A Wild Hair

A Lock of Love

This is thirteen inches of my hair.  Note that it is no longer attached to my head.

I’m having neck troubles again–spending so much time in front of the screen tends to make my shoulders tighten up and pull my neck out of alignment.  I’ve been having trouble sleeping, too, and I decided just this afternoon that it might help to have less hair pulling on my neck when tucked in a coat or  piled on top of my head in my usual bun.

So, I called up my favorite salon–Green Acres–and Rena got me right in.  I love that it’s really down-home, and usually it’s little old ladies and lots of friendly chatter.  None of that fashionista attitude of the more trendy salons (BTW–speaking of -istas, check out William Safire’s favorite word of 2008).

The hair will grow back as it has the last two times I had enough cut off to donate to Locks of Love–a very worthy cause. I still plan on being one of those old women with long, powerful hair.

Right now I just want to lighten the load on my neck and stop having to pull it out from under my head at night, tuck it under my coat (and try not to catch it in the zipper) when I go out, and continually deal with the knots and snags that mysteriously develop whenever I wear a hat or scarf.

 

Chicago

I couldn’t think of anything but this 1914 Carl Sandburg poem when I heard about the Senate-seat auction fiasco in that city.  Enjoy!

Hog Butcher for the World,
Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,
Player with Railroads and the Nation’s Freight Handler;
Stormy, husky, brawling,
City of the Big Shoulders:

They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I
have seen your painted women under the gas lamps
luring the farm boys.
And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it
is true I have seen the gunman kill and go free to
kill again.
And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the
faces of women and children I have seen the marks
of wanton hunger.
And having answered so I turn once more to those who
sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer
and say to them:
Come and show me another city with lifted head singing
so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.
Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on
job, here is a tall bold slugger set vivid against the
little soft cities;

Fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action, cunning
as a savage pitted against the wilderness,
Bareheaded,
Shoveling,
Wrecking,
Planning,
Building, breaking, rebuilding,
Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth, laughing with
white teeth,
Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young
man laughs,
Laughing even as an ignorant fighter laughs who has
never lost a battle,
Bragging and laughing that under his wrist is the pulse.
and under his ribs the heart of the people,
Laughing!
Laughing the stormy, husky, brawling laughter of
Youth, half-naked, sweating, proud to be Hog
Butcher, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with
Railroads and Freight Handler to the Nation.