You’re feeding them WHAT? Well, antibiotics, hormones, and — HEAVY METALS?

Manure fr

Source: Bloody Brilliant!

It’s spring, time to dig in the composts and pile on the mulches, so the blogging world is full of advice and debates about manure. Stuart of Gardening Tips and Ideas has just weighed in on the side of sheep manure, while Elizabeth and Michelle of Garden Rant defend manure against all comers.

Me, I can hardly bear to think about the stuff. The minute I hear the word “manure” I start to twitch and moan; observers report having heard mutterings of  “No, no,”  and “Tell me it isn’t true.” I wanted to post on this topic (the manure, not the moans) weeks ago, but after the incident with the broken blood-pressure cuff, my doctors warned me not to write about it for at least a month.

It’s all about the stuff they add to animal feed. I stumbled over it when researching the compost article (how else?) and haven’t entirely recovered. Here’s what happened.

Continue reading

You're feeding them WHAT? Well, antibiotics, hormones, and — HEAVY METALS?

Manure fr

Source: Bloody Brilliant!

It's spring, time to dig in the composts and pile on the mulches, so the blogging world is full of advice and debates about manure. Stuart of Gardening Tips and Ideas has just weighed in on the side of sheep manure, while Elizabeth and Michelle of Garden Rant defend manure against all comers.

Me, I can hardly bear to think about the stuff. The minute I hear the word “manure” I start to twitch and moan; observers report having heard mutterings of  “No, no,”  and “Tell me it isn't true.” I wanted to post on this topic (the manure, not the moans) weeks ago, but after the incident with the broken blood-pressure cuff, my doctors warned me not to write about it for at least a month.

It's all about the stuff they add to animal feed. I stumbled over it when researching the compost article (how else?) and haven't entirely recovered. Here's what happened.

Continue reading

Product evaluation: stepable lawn aerator

Put on your thinking caps, people, it's quiz time.

Study the picture below, then select the answer that best explains the little turd-like objects in the grass:

Lawn aeration plugs

a) Kate has acquired a dozen constipated Corgies which all became unconstipated at precisely the same time and in precisely the same place.
b) The dispute with the neighbor has become serious.
c) She’s been aerating the lawn.

Continue reading

They found me!

Snowdrops
______________________________________________________

I’m not sure who "they" are, but they’ve definitely found me.

Recently, I’ll go to my TypePad page in the morning and see that I’ve got a bunch of new comments, which are meat and drink–nay, the very nectar of life–to most bloggers. But when I look at the comments themselves they’re mostly nonsense, except that each contains the url for a site having nothing to do, trust me, with gardening.

Continue reading

GBMD: somewhere i have never travelled

Johnson's g


somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,  mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

–e.e. cummings

I will admit to having a quite personal reason for treasuring this poem: back when I was madly in love with my husband and he was not in love with me (that would be our sophomore year in college) he gave me this poem. Now, I know a love poem when I see one, and I refused to believe it meant nothing. Maybe that's why I was able to outlast the others who had designs on his heart. 

The photograph is of what I believe to be a Johnson's geranium, growing wild near an abandoned settlement in Newfoundland.