Handz N Dyrt Chronicles||Golden Hour Moments

The day is at its newest in its first daylight hour.  

I am unable to sleep past 4:30 AM. I am awake with my first swig of cool water from the bottle on the nightstand and on my feet, my legs shaking off the stiffness that comes with age. 

After the necessary ablutions, the next couple of hours are all routine; a hot cup of tea, a morning stretch, prayer and meditation. By the time I am done, the light of a new day creeps through the tops of the trees I view through my windows. It is my cue to go out to the garden.

My morning trip outside is more unstructured; sometimes it begins with a thorough watering of the raised beds and flower boxes, other times it is a walk-through inspection, and still other times I carry out a basket of freshly washed laundry to hang to dry before the heat of the day becomes too intense. Summers are for clothes hung on a line, left to rise and fall in the warm breeze.  

The world is just starting to wake; intermittent traffic sounds of a few cars whooshing by the neighborhood begin and the roar of a trash truck making its way up the block, yet I can still hear my own breath, the echoes of my own thoughts. There is not enough noise in this moment to drown out the peace and quiet that is big and new, and sadly, fleeting. 

The usual visitors always stop by to say "Good Morning". First, there is Fella, an American Shorthair who is dressed in his gruffy tuxedo coat. He sometimes sleeps in my strawberry bed, and scampers away at the first sign of me. Next, there is Skippy, who loves to hang out in the tree above the hammock. I prepare small cuts of fruit and vegetables for him so that he is able to easily find food that is safe and healthy for him to eat, and he grabs pieces to carry into the tree to enjoy. I am sometimes greeted by the Great Dane who looks over the fence and barks at me. He isn't a vicious dog. Just lonely and needing affection. 

As I stroll about the landscape, I admire the blooming flowers and the colorful little fairy homes tucked away in corners of the yard. Staring at the colorful little dwellings makes me imagine who might live in such a house; a tooth fairy who is also a dentist, the wise librarian who manages books on building bridges, herding grasshoppers or legends of giants who make the rain come and go, or the shopkeeper who runs the general store...there is a whole world of fantasy hiding in the bushes of my garden. 

Taking tea in the greenhouse is the best way to bring my Golden Hour rituals to a close. A hot cuppa, steeping a favorite brew of ginger turmeric or lemon hibiscus helps to balance my system as I sip and listen to the early morning jazz show on the speaker tucked away on the shelf. The volume is low enough for my ears only, the music a perfect backdrop for the rising sun, painting everything in warm, deep ambers and oranges. Light dapples through the windows, creating shadows through the leaves of the seedlings rising from the starter trays. I mark dates in my gardening journal for when to transplant these newcomers into the raised beds, the steam from my cup ascending in winding curls into the air. 

Light becomes morning that will soon turn into day, the temperature no longer cool. It is time to move on with my day. 

Like an unopened package of a thing most anticipated, most special, the Golden Hour morning is the moment when the seal has just been broken, the contents within unspoiled. You are the only one to witness the unfolding of all of its beauty; the new songs of the birds, the smell of breakfasts being prepared, and the coolness of the freshly watered grass beneath your feet, all while the deep, rich yellow light bathes the scene before your eyes. It is a blessing to witness a new day, fresh with hope and promise of great possibilities that are within reach. We can be the authors of our own story for the next 24 hours. 

Have you ever awaken to welcome the new day during the Golden Hour? What is your early morning routine?

Handz N Dyrt Chronicles: Musings of a Suburban Gardener || Seed Collecting

Show me your seed and I will show you your harvest. - Matshona Dhilwayo

All Things from a Seed

One day, I had the privilege of personally speaking with "artivist" Ron Finley, urban gardener and community agent for change who is leading the movement for sustainable neighborhood gardening practices.  And he said one thing: "A seed contains infinity." I have come to this conclusion many times myself, and have thought about how one tiny structure contains the genetic material to create a living organism, in a continual repeating cycle that in turn, creates endlessly. 

As the seasons come and go, my observations of the many changes that occur within my garden have been close; in some cases, I have jotted down detailed notes and have taken pictures of each stage of onions, carrots, collards, cilantro, and poppies that have been allowed to go to seed. 

Sorting onion seeds

First, the most obvious reason is to collect seeds to sow for upcoming growing seasons. The second is to simply appreciate the cycle that all living things go through; birth, life, reproduction and death. The life cycle repeats itself in every corner of my garden, and I have learned to embrace the beauty of each phase. 

My collards. 

As the summer ended last year, I began to sow collards and cilantro, along with other seeds, in starter trays in my greenhouse. The greenhouse has proved to be a valuable asset to my gardening because seasons can be extended by providing optimal temperature  conditions for sowing seeds that will grow into seedlings for planting. It is not recommended that plants like cilantro and collards are sown directly into the ground; temperatures in zone 8b are very hot well past the end of the summer. Planting leafy greens in such extreme conditions will cause them to bolt, resulting in poor growth and no leaves. Cilantro is particularly temperamental, flourishing in cool, shaded areas. Both plants are best served by starting with seeds in trays within the controlled environment of the greenhouse, where there is cool shade and no strong wind. 

Cilantro flowers.

In the fall I got a lot of greens, and even a sufficient amount of cilantro that we used for tacos and Indian dishes that I love to make. When the plants went to flower, both produced the loveliest of flowers. The collards, with their bright yellow blossoms attracted the pollinators early in the season long enough that they stayed to visit the other flowers in the garden such as the lavender, coneflowers and purple sage. The cilantro's lacy, delicate blooms were perfect for rounding out handpicked bouquets for the kitchen table. Eventually, flowers turned to seed pods which when finally dried, were picked and patiently sorted and stored to be started for this year's crops. 

Cilantro seeds are actually the spice known as coriander. Did you know that? I didn't!

The sorting of seeds takes a tremendous amount of patience, and should probably not be endeavored if your anxiety is at a high or if you have other pressing matters to attend to. Or maybe it may be just the thing to help one to focus on the present and quietly engage in repetitive work. It was both for me. Collecting collard seeds requires that you open each pod and collect each seed into a small envelope or container. Cilantro seeds (known as coriander) are easier, only calling for using small scissors to cut the tiny buds from the flower once dried. I used small sauce cups like my friend, Marina did when she gave me my seeds for the first time, then stored them in the greenhouse in a tea tin. It will be time to get started with sowing in only a few more days. 

Sorting seeds for planting. 

From the Gospel of Matthew in the Bible to the practice of the teaching profession to the role of parenting, we can see the parallels of the seed in our daily lives. A childhood friend of mine recently lost her mother. As most of us have experienced that painful time of loss and grief, we also are lovingly reminded of the impact our mothers make and how as we grow, they not only plant seeds in our lives, but in the lives of our friends. I remember her mom, along with others who have been a part of my life journey and the happy seeds of memories they have helped to create for me that I constantly am able to reap from as an adult. These seeds planted in my life have yielded positive and abundant fruit. 

Within that miniature, perfect structure, there is the promise of growth, there is potential for big things, powerful things. There is hope. 

As a pot of carrots grew in the garden, one of them was left to go to seed. I wanted this process to take place with me as an active witness to the cycle I began last summer, with no expectations that any carrots would grow. And what I got was more than I ever imagined: A bunch of brilliant, orange carrots, ready to be pulled for stir frys, stews and even smoothies. Sweet, crunchy jewels; buried treasure in the rich backyard soil. By July, the flowers came, and with the flowers, a plethora of tiny seeds to carefully harvest and store in an envelope. 

Now, the cycle is on its return, and the flowering has begun. 

When we plant seeds in belief and hope, and rest in faith, they take root and grow into good things. It just takes time. What results are blessings beyond our expectations with infinite possibilities. Let's plant seeds of love, kindness, joy, peace, patience, goodness, faithfulness in our lives and the lives of others and wait together for a harvest of happiness. 

What seeds have you planted in your garden, literally or metaphorically? Leave your comment below!

 

Handz N Dyrt Chronicles: Musings of a Suburban Gardener || The Perfect Getaway - My Own Garden

 I had a difficult day at work. The type of day that compels me to let out a primal scream in the main hallway after all of the students have been dismissed. I chose to holler at the top of my lungs in my car instead, as though I had been set on fire. Then I drove away from campus to the local garden store. I needed to spend the remainder of the day in the garden. 

I knew I needed to decompress in a big way. Retail therapy does not always have the favorable turnout you'd think; buying shoes and clothing that I do not really need can sometimes bring on more stress later. But visiting the garden store with a small, intentional budget, I was able to choose 4 pots of purple daisies that were on sale. Driving home from the shop, the jazz playing quietly through the car stereo speakers, my anxiety slowly began to diminish and my excitement for spending time in my happy place exponentiated as I got closer to home. 

Ranunculus add joyful bursts of color to the garden. 

I didn't bother to go inside; I carried my plants and other belongings to the yard and immediately got to work. I took a look around the cutting garden and noticed that my ranunculus had all began to die. What happened?! Did they they get too much water, or not enough water? Did they need plant food? Did they need more sunshine? I had so many questions, because my ranunculus added so much color to my garden, and now the beautiful, bright hues were now dull and dried blossoms like thin shreds of tissue paper. It seemed their time had come, their season run as quickly as they arrived, the opulent bursts gone too soon. There had to be a reason. 

My ranunculus in the nascent spring was full of beautiful blooms, 
perfect for cutting. 

As I had researched, I was relieved to know it was not an aberrant thumb that caused my ranunculus to shrivel up and whither away, but the change of the seasons that told them, like Persephone's brief return, that their visit had come to an end. Their time is for the cooler season, around late winter into the earliest of spring. I am in Zone 8ish or 9ish, so they bloom brilliantly for a fast stint and then go back into hibernation, waiting for the next blooming season the following year. 
I noticed this from a ranunculus corm that reappeared from last year's planting in a garden near the side of the house. This flower pushed its way out of the mud and grew strong and tall this year, producing five very full flowers in pink and orange. I did not think it would ever grow again, but here it was, showing off among the rose bushes that had just began to bud. Seeing this made me hopeful, and it kicked me into high gear to decide what to do with the ranunculus corms that would be left from these flowers I now witnessed undergoing their own transformation.

Ranunculus are only around for a short part of mid to early spring. 

For now, I left most of the plants alone, giving them time to fully run their seasonal course until it is time for them to rest through the year. A few fresh buds were found on a couple of my plants, so I will get a few flowers soon. It is best just to wait until the ranunculus cease flowering, and then, either dig up the corms and store them, or trim the flowers down and let them stay dormant in the ground until next season. 

Pots of purple daisies ready to plant. 

I picked up a few pots of purple daisies to add the pop of color that was lost from the fading ranunculus. Although the color does not stand out as much, the deep, rich purple is an elegant addition to the landscape. Most of my flowers are purple, anyway. 
After I planted and worked on the flowers, I tended to seedlings in the raised beds and in the greenhouse. They sure are growing fast, and I hope to have flowers emerging soon on the zucchini, watermelon and other cucurbits. To my surprise, the carrots I transplanted are growing new, healthy green stems with leaves, and onions are beginning to show their slender shoots. 

Last year was quite a struggle with all of these crops, but because I began early in February, it is my hope that my growing season will be significantly extended, and that I will have a bumper crop of healthy fruits and vegetables. 

As the sun set, I enjoyed a quiet time in the greenhouse with a cup of tea, and let my thoughts melt into the peace and quiet while candles and fairy lights flickered, transforming the tiny shed into a beautiful lantern from outside. The wind began to bellow up, slightly rattling the panes, but no chill seeped through. It is a cozy respite in the cold and a cool shelter in the heat. All it takes is preparation and creativity to turn this simple dwelling into not only a safe harbor for growing and protecting plants, but a tranquil hangout to sit with a book and listen to your favorite tunes. 

A cup and a teapot are always at the ready in the greenhouse. 

Twinkle lights add nighttime magic.

Having a garden is the perfect way to care for your peace of mind; when I am tending to my plants, making plans, digging with my hands in the dirt and finding the wonders of growing things, I think of nothing else, for there is no time to do so: All that matters in the garden is the present. From watering thirsty seedlings to finding ways to prevent pests, everything is immediate, yet everything requires patience and waiting. One simply has no time to concern themselves with whatever troubles existed before entering this wonderful place where the clock stands still. People say, they go into the garden to lose their mind and find their soul. I like to say, my garden is the quickest getaway I can ever have. Just by walking through the gate, I am in a new place that seems far away from all of my cares and concerns. The garden is the place where hope lives. 

Do you have a garden? What is happening there as spring changes begin?

How is your garden your private getaway? Share in the comments below!

Handz in Dirt Chronicles: Musings of a Suburban Gardener || March 2022

 I have been avidly gardening for four years now...

...and keeping a journal about everything that grows, develops and dies in my garden. As the garden moves and transforms, so does life, and the ebbs and flows of time have become intricately blended in all that is sown and gathered in the soil. 

There was definitely the COVD-19 experience, along with social unrest, political upheaval and now a world in which democracy is once again in danger. But the garden remains constant; delivering lessons of hope, change and optimism. The magical and spiritual intertwine among the beauty and mystery of this heavenly place where flowers bloom and things, once thought lost to death, suddenly reappear with strength and brilliance. All beauty lives in the garden. 

It is Spring as I begin this entry. Spring is 4 days old in 2022, and my garden has grown from two small raised beds and few pots to a sprawling plot that now covers the entire south side of the backyard, with spots of raised beds in various areas near the patio and terrace (terrace-to-be). The grandest feature is now the greenhouse, where my son and I enjoy starting seedlings and plants and an occasional cup of tea. In the winter, it is a cozy refuge from the craziness in the world, a place to sit among the greenery, keep warm and listen to music flowing from our bluetooth speaker, sometimes well into the night. In summer once all of the seedlings are planted, the shade cloth, fan and cold mist keeps us cool as we sip rosè or lemonade to beat the heat.

March 23, 2022

We are ready to introduce our tomato seedlings into the newly turned raised beds. Because the soil had been so depleted from previous crops, these beds had to be completely pulled of old plants, the dirt sterilized with hot water, and new, fertile soil added. Vermicomposting is also a handy method for creating your own nutrient-rich soil by providing worms in a controlled location a variety of appropriate kitchen scraps and biodegradable materials. I have grown many of my worms this way; their casings are filled with plenty of nitrogen, making excellent food for plants. For the first time, I am using a worm composter to create worm tea. 

My husband built extensions to place on top of the short beds to make them taller; this way, the new seedlings will have more room to grow downward, making the root systems stronger and the tomato vines more able to climb and produce more fruit. 

As companions, tomatoes grow well with carrots, and since my bucket of carrots was turning into a crowded mess of twisted roots, I thinned them out, gently pulling them from the ground to transplant them in the new bed next to the tomatoes. I was surprised to find a red one and a few white ones growing. With the newly dug dirt, I hope they can find enough room to grow larger and deeper so that we can have a few delicious heirloom carrots. 

Seed: We all need room to grow, whether it is physical, spiritual or mental. Crowding only stunts development. If you want to root deep where you are planted, you must demand that space in a nurturing environment. It is a birthright. 

March 24, 2022

I told myself I would not spend too much time out in the garden this morning, but it can never be helped. When I returned from getting additional soil, I started on creating space for the pollinators to grow. Although I do enjoy picking up flowers from the store to plant, this time I spread quite a few seeds in the pollinator bed: Wildflowers, sunflowers and zinnias. This way, they can start growing in the ground. The other potted plants on the other side of the garden are beginning to bloom and attract a few friends. Bees love sipping a bit of water from the bee baths set up among the flower containers as they fly from bloom to bloom, and return each day to bury themselves into the sunflowers, purple sage and mint blooms. 

There was also quite a bit of watering to do, since spring temperatures are warmer and the sun now is higher overhead. With all of the colorful beauty and the warm spring weather, moving on to other responsibilities can be hard. I can easily find other ideas and motives that will keep me in the garden all day!

Seed: When something brings you pleasure, it is very hard to stay away. Run toward what brings you joy.

Being in the garden is always the best part of spring for me. Do you have plans to grow things this season? Share some of your ideas!