Just a Finger

Sunlight drenches and soft music fills room, finally- quiet rejuvenation.
Weary eyes and blurry head strain to re plan to-do list, re-sort the day's priorities.
That dull throb and those heavy eyelids ache for rest, defying midday brilliance of spring sun.
Small boys don't understand sleeping in. Burning candles at both ends takes creative restoration these days.
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Husband has been on vacation this past week, and we have been knocking one project after another off the list. Late nights and early mornings and plan plan plan and then, a saw blade and a fingernail pull us to a halt.

We stay up late, he with pain piercing hand, me with worry and fret. We pass the hours of early morning, debating a midnight trip to the ER. Eventually the pain subsides, and husband reassures that the finger will be OK.

He laughs, "just a hangnail" as I dab blood away from and wrap gauze around 3/16 inch puncture wound in his fingernail (only a carpenter measures injuries in sixteenths.)

And as the moments pass through the night it strikes me anew- the ever present danger of his profession, the inherent perils of our lives on the farm. A split second changes lives. Such an encounter only serves as a reminder of how fortunate we are each day for the limbs we have, the hands and feet and ears and eyes and oh, what would we do without? Certainly life would be changed.

My offer of chore duty for his recuperation is met as if it were a challenge. "Oh, I it's just a finger," he assures me, pulling on those boots and winning that race to the barn.
And so he heals, still stubbornly hauling buckets of water to animals under this nurse's protest that he just rest and get better. Taking trenching shovel and post hole digger to soft ground, gingerly holding out that poor finger with the half-torn off nail, wrapped and taped. That warm day calls to him louder than that throbbing hand, and he will not be deterred.

Certainly a farmer he is becoming.

Starting Seeds

This past week has been so beautiful that we could not stay indoors. On days like these I feel like the oft-depicted weary sea-traveller, so elated with dry land that they stagger in from the salty sea and revel in the feel of sand. We winter-weary Iowans throw open windows and make sweet tea. We walk a few feet out the door and can't help but close eyes with face pointed sun-ward, inhaling spring- glorious, life-giving spring.
To my delight, when Ryan has asked if he can go play outside, I can once again say yes, rather than reasoning with him that it is really too cold. David, intent on being right behind that big brother, finds any shoe he can (dad's, Ryan's, whatever) and follows me, holding it as high as possible, saying "boot" repeatedly, until I relent, find his boots, and we all make our way outdoors.

The average last date of frost for Iowa is in mid-may- quite awhile from where we are now, with many a-frost likely in between. So, Phil built me this cold frame from a salvaged sliding glass door and some wood. This way, the seeds stay warm and protected from the cold at night, yet benefit from the sun during the day. I was delighted with the idea of starting seeds now, rather than having to wait. So, yesterday, on a particularly calm, warm, delightful day, the boys and I took off in the truck in search of gopher holes.

Yes, gopher holes. Phil had heard that, before fancy potting soil came in bags from Lowe's, one would go in search of gopher holes, the dirt from which would be extra-fluffy and *ahem* fertilized, is perfect for starting seeds. I had also read about using egg cartons for the planters, because they are biodegradable and can just be planted directly in the ground when the seedlings are ready for transplant. We have an abundance (read, 30) of these egg cartons, so it sounded like a perfect plan to me.
We planted mostly flowers in this round- zinnias, bachelor buttons, marigolds and sunflowers. Even some heritage seeds (meaning, from grandpa and grandma and uncles, passed down and saved carefully in envelopes). I love the idea of having a "frilly" garden (as my Aunt Sydney describes her beautiful garden) and this year I am determined to line those practical plants that fill tables and tummies with beauties that stir hearts and lift spirits. We also started zucchini, beans, bell peppers and peas, not so much because they need help getting started (we all know how well zucchini grow here!) but because Ryan remembered a stash of seeds from last year that we had kept in the garage, and brought them out to add to the stack. He really enjoyed this project.

Those egg cartons were nice, too, because after each one had been filled with seeds, it could be closed - protected from tiny hands until it was ready to be opened and placed in the cold frame.

Do you realize how much dirt a gopher can throw out of his abode? I had no idea. I pulled 10 gallons (those two buckets there) from one hole, and it still looks like I barely scraped the surface. Here you can also see the cold frame and the patches of old garden space that will soon be turned over once again.

We have one more door that we hope to make into another cold frame, and if that happens this year I plan on starting some seeds directly into the ground- like lettuce and spinach, and a few herbs. This type of planting suits me really well- keeping the garden dirt in the garden, and taking advantage of those first beautiful days of spring.

Now, it's a waiting game- how well does this work? Will they come up too quickly? Will spring not set in by the time the seeds need to be transplanted? This is certainly a trial run- but oh, what fun! To think, flowers!