Yesterday we stopped by the old house to make sure everything looked spic-and-span before the upcoming showings. (House update: we’ve had a couple of almost-offers, but nothing concrete yet.) I’d decided not to do any planting at the new house until we’ve been here a year, and for the most part am okay with that. But I really miss having either a CSA or a vegetable garden. I’m craving tomatoes and salads and squash and jalapenos and, most of all, beets.
So you can imagine how excited I was when I walked around back to our raised bed, which we’d dumped our compost bin contents into so we could dismantle it and move:
I also snapped a couple of funny “Scenes from the Compost Bin.” Here’s what remains of a cloth mesh bag Derek and his pal Christopher filled with barley and made a batch of beer with…at least a year ago now. The barley’s long gone, but the mesh is taking its time.
Remember those weird, sonic-boom-loud extra-crinkly Sun Chips bags that were supposed to be compostable? The ones they took off the market because they were too loud and didn’t compost? Here’s one of them, under the squash. We tried.
Today was so dry and unseasonably cool and all-around gorgeous that we went for a quick walk through the Pistol Creek Wetlands near our house. That’s Sophia pushing Jonathan, far ahead of the rest of us.
(Which brings me to: If I have to referee one more fight, kiss one more sibling injury, banish one more whine, or tell my kids YOUR BROTHER/SISTER/SISTERS/INSERT PROPER COMBINATION HERE ARE THE BEST FRIENDS YOU’LL EVER HAVE, SO START ACTING LIKE THEY MEAN MORE TO YOU THAN ANYONE ELSE IN THE WORLD BECAUSE THEY DO, I swear, I am going to just beat my head against the wall for awhile, pour myself a drink, and hope it clicks by the time they’re grown up.
Or not, because I want peace and quiet and a happy family in the meantime.)