Sometimes writing is an old radish seed failure

Feelings of frustration

Everything in the garden is up and growing. Well, everything but the radishes!  They were supposed to be first. At 7-10 days to germinate, the plan was the first little buggers would be in my fried egg sandwich this week or next. Alas nothing came up. Must have been old seed. Sometimes a packet of seeds will get too hot or wet or be dried too warmly and they fail to germinate when planted. Bother. 

Sometimes writing is an epic fail. It just gets trashed. But if one really wants to be a good writer, one must write daily. So they say. 

Lately my writing has seemed a bit like venting my compost pail!

Though the vent in the greenhouse is a good thing, keeping a lid on the compost pail is a very good idea. The compost pail in the kitchen has little holes in the top for venting. It also has a charcoal filter in it that can be rinsed with lemon and dish soap. This keeps the smell from entering the room. I knew that I wanted to begin doing my own compost when we built the greenhouse. There are some plants that just love the rich soil of kitchen scrap compost.  

The vent in the greenhouse was installed the eighteenth of February.  My husband decided it was time when the thermometer read 100° F.  The photo above shows it opening on a day whe the outside temp was 34° and the greenhouse was 86°.  Getting more plants in there will also help cool it down. 

So I tried writing about our poor little ducks that the fox ate even though I tried to secure them in the safety of the barn. It ended up being just a vent session on the woes of all that work just to feed the neighborhood predator. Compost venting. 

Then I tried writing about my return to puppy camp training with Waldo. Turns out he is smart enough to be trained with consistency.  The behavior issues all come from his jealousy of me and the greenhouse. Well okay maybe he sees it as “me and Seymour time” in the greenhouse. Waldo has never liked the greenhouse. He whines and cries if I take him out there.  So I’ve taken to just leaving him in the eating and sleeping house. Well a jealousy dog isn’t very cute.  More compost venting. 

The struggle with coldness had begun much sooner than I recognized it. Feelings follow actions – I have always said this to my kids, to myself, to others. Now here I was-am living it.  My feelings towards Waldo were getting cold and hard. When a dog becomes all work and no joy, it’s time for him to be someone else’s pet.  Meanwhile, it gets warm and cozy in the greenhouse, and my joy there continues to shoe me out the door. More compost venting!

“My eyes are dry, My faith is old, My heart is hard, my prayers are cold / And I know how I ought to be / alive to You and dead to me

But what can be done for an old heart like mine? Soften it up with oil and wine / the oil is You, Your spirit of love / please wash me anew in the wine of Your blood”

–Written by Keith Green

The struggle to love my ornery pet continues.  I have not felt any emotion towards Waldo except frustrated anger. Can one fall out of love with your pet?  So  I repeated the phrase feelings follow actions, love is a choice. The decision to unlock the freezer of my heart has been made.  But pets need time, and he obviously isn’t getting enough. 

Like bad radish seeds, I keep getting heartburn just from boisterous puppy barking.  Back to basic training and the choice to take back my house from a 20 pound teddy-bear. It’s not working very well when he does things and I have no corner-of-my-eye to catch him in his act. Bother. I think this household is soon to be a one-dog-owner home. 

Meanwhile, the sun is doing its work warming up the greenhouse and the days the vent opens requires a little extra watering on the seedlings. I am so excited about the plants growing. With spring on it’s way, here are a few previews to the delicious produce soon to  come. 

Strawberry plants in hanging baskets
Now this is real baby spinach
Trees anyone? Brocolli tops to be!
Some heirloom lettuce soon

On the other side of winter

There lies a Spring

It is summer’s babbling brook

A fountains flowing stream

Of laughter’s refreshing spray

Leaping through the heart

Showers of blessings rain  

Falling down on open boughs

Soul and spirit melt

Buds and flowers burst 

Mind and body freeze

Captive in time and space 

Held in the sun’s prey

— written January 2017 on the coldest day of the year. 

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