Romancing the Storm

photo and image from Wikipedia Commons

Today we have the first tornado watch of the tornado season. So Lucy and I have been outside, watching.

When I was 12, I climbed up the television antenna tower that was attached to the back of our ranch house in Grosse Pointe Shores. My mom and sister and I had already gathered water and flashlights and taken them down to the basement. There was a tornado warning. A twister was spotted heading up I-94 and I desperately wanted to see it. I went outside while my mom was glued to Sonny Eliot on the console TV in the den. I climbed the antenna like a ladder and tried to spot a funnel, aware of the danger, but not caring.

I wonder why I am so fascinated with the idea. Even though tornadoes occur everywhere on the planet, except Antarctica, most of them occur in the United States, and though Michigan isn’t officially in “tornado alley”, we are in the active zone. I grew up with tornado warnings, so I’ve been waiting.

When I saw the movie Twister, I was enthralled. I totally identified with Helen Hunt’s character Dr. Jo Harding’s fixation. But she watched her father being sucked up by and F5. She wanted to develop an early warning system, she had a plan. I don’t have that excuse.

Me, I just want to see one.

In my right mind, I realize the pain and deaths that these terrors cause. I will never forget getting a phone call from my sister when I lived in New York. She was calling from her cell phone, driving on M-59 with the niece and nephew, then toddlers, in the car. In her always calm voice, she left a message saying she just wanted me to know that there was a tornado warning, the afternoon sky was jet black, that there was big blinding hail and the wind was moving her car.

The message ended abruptly. I remember hours of panicky dialing because the phone system went down. Everyone was alright, but the memory still makes me cringe.

Still, in my un-right mind, I continue to go outside looking for the funnels.

Why?

- - - David

The Crocus Rises

There they are, nestled in the back border by one of the Serviceberries, (Amelanchier arborea).

We have bloom!

It was nice to see flowers at Hidden Lake, but seeing growth in the vast brownness of the backyard is much more astounding. Yesterday, when I was outside for hours cleaning up some of the brown leaves, sticks and other skeletal remains of last summer, I kept walking over to this lone patch of color. I am amazed at the miracle of nature’s perseverance, not least that which remains safe from the yanking, digging and trampling of the wild beast we call Lucy.

For three years, the little outcrop of bloom always reminds me of my dad, and of the kindness of friends. The Crocuses are in a little planting that came as a pot of flowers sent to the house by Jenna, Audee and Laura when my dad died. (That was in late winter of 2005). The flowers lasted for weeks in the house. The greens lasted into the late spring. Then I took the mass out of the pot and planted the whole in the back of the yard right by the Amelanchier. That tree was one of three I got from the saint-like Mama Zahn (aka Sharon).

I remember not being sure the flowers would have the strength to survive the winter. I didn’t know if they’d be hardy. Now they are lasting for years in the yard. I cherish the flowers, the memories of my dad and my friends.

And now I celebrate that they, I, and everyone reading this, have survived another winter.

- - - David

Something IS in the air

The subject of my last Master Gardener class at Hidden Lake Gardens was Flower Gardening. Annuals, Herbaceous Perennials, Bulbs. Vines and Garden Design. The speaker was great, the slide show was intoxicating. But there was a side effect, it made my spring fever even worse.

I left the class, got in the car and immediately took off into the woods.

Hidden Lake Gardens, where the classes were held, is a 755 acre Botanical Garden and Arboretum near Tipton, on the eastern boundary of the Irish Hills. Driving in, off Highway 50 the drive curves around some very nice specimen trees. You get to see the pond next, and on Thursday I spotted the swan couple making their way to the water. The Visitor Center is a smallish 60’s building on the namesake lake. The three domed conservatory is modest but has been a warm retreat this winter. My favorite part of of the gardens, though, are the woods; a snaking drive, roller coaster hills and utter quiet.

It was driving in the woods when I spotted my first official spring flowers. A sweep of Snowdrops at the base of a tree. I stopped the car. I grabbed the camera and got down to snap the pictures.

My fever got a little worse, but now I was smiling.

Right now, it’s only 42 degrees, but sunny. The forecast is for 62 degrees this afternoon. I know I’ll want to go outside, grab the rake and try to wake up the lawn. There’s a long list of other yard work waiting. That noise you hear is me, chomping at the bit.

Outside, it’s actually warm in the sun. Could this really be happening?

--David

My way, or the Malay?

Photo: Wikimedia Commons

This morning, Brian got a RFP* (see ridiculous business lingo) from the Singapore Health Promotion Board National Health Portal, (SHPNHP?).

This means it is highly possible that Brian’s second trip outside of North America will be to that Malay Peninsula equatorial city-state. That could be as soon as he gets back from another trip to California, next week, (this time to a conference in Palm Springs.)

All I know about Singapore is what I read on Wikipedia.
I can only think of one person, Miss Sybil (?), who may possible have travelled to Singapore and could offer him some tips.

Anyone else?

--David

*request for proposal

orignally posted on iWeb

44 hours of class, 4 to go

11 classes down, one to go. 

My last class at Hidden Lake Gardens is tomorrow. But I won’t be a Master Gardener yet. First, I have to complete and pass my final. Then I need to complete 40 hours of volunteer work. (Digging in my yard, or yours, doesn’t count.) But I think I am having a fun.

When I was at the orientation I was a little concerned about my ability to sit through a 4 hour class. It’s been quite a while since I’ve tried to learn anything. Even back in college, the only 4 hour class I had was “studio” where I was on my own and could wander down to get coffee. But now, after 11 classes, I am amazed how fast it went and that I almost never fidgeted in class.

The Master Gardener Volunteer training program covers a lot of ground. This is the curriculum, in order of appearance:

• Plant Science
  
• Soils for Plant Growth and Backyard Composting
  
• Diagnostics and Plant Identification
  
• Tree Fruit Culture
  
• Small Fruit Culture
  
• Vegetable Culture
  
• Water Quality and Master Gardener Volunteering
  
• Woody Ornamentals
  
• Lawn Care
  
• Plant Health Care
  
• Indoor Plants
  
• Flower Gardening
  

The class comes with an 800-page manual and supplement. But not everything in the manual is covered in class. The MSU program offers some leeway to the individual counties on setting up their own class schedule.

Our county has a gem of a coordinator, Karen Gentry, left, who is on staff at Hidden Lake. Karen decided to let us read the information on  

• Household Pests
  
• Managing Wildlife and 
  
• Poisonous Plants. 
  

Thank you Karen. 

But if any of you have questions, I have the manual.

I had many AH-HA moments while I was in class. I discovered that I’ve made a lot of missteps in my 40 years of digging and planting, some very recently.

I’ll be re-reading the manual when I complete my final exam, thank the gods and Karen, again, that it is a take-home. While I am studying for the final, I will probably write a little about the lot that I’ve learned. And as I’ve said before, I now know just how much I don’t know.

Old dog, new tricks? Life is all about learning.

--David

Originally published on iWeb

Speaking of Hope

Every chilled to the bone Detroiter is filled with new hope today.

It’s Opening Day for our Tigers. And even though it will probably be in the 40’s, even though the forecast is for rain and even though we already have players out with injuries, spring is in the HOUSE!

It’s not easy to get tickets to opening day so I’ll be watching the game on TV. And while I watch the boys take the field, I am sure to be transported through space and time to a warm seat in the sun with a cold beer in my hand and I’ll immediately get a craving for a hot dog.


I grew up with Tigers baseball and I remember days at the old stadium with fondness. It was a great place made greater because I always went with my dad.

Now I have fond memories of the new park. In April 2000, our first spring back in Michigan, Brian and I got tickets to a Tigers vs. Mariners game. Our two home teams. It was cold, it even snowed. It wasn’t easy to get food, (the vendors were still getting used to the brand new park), but I felt like I was in heaven. It wasn’t heaven, it was baseball.


We eventually got to take the whole family to a game. We bought eight tickets and “gave” them to my mom for her birthday.


My parents came, my sister Karen, my Brother "in law" Steve and the fabulous, then pre-teen, niece and nephew, Ali and Jason, all cheered through a game in the bleachers in the sun. We were in the right outfield, right behind Magglio Ordonez. And even though my dad was already feeling the effects of Alzheimer's disease, he beamed through the game, I hope I will never forget that day, even though he did.

So here’s to the games, past, present and future. And here’s to the fans and the team and the roars of the crowd. Here’s to the all the memories of afternoons in the sun.

Here’s to everything that the new season brings to this baseball fan. 

Here's to you. The Beer is on me

--David

originally posted on iWeb

A Beautiful Morning

originally posted on iWeb
Friday, March 28, 2008

Another three inches of fluffiness was waiting to greet the dawn. No doubt moving us up even further in the top ten snowiest. Budding branches wrapped in white against a blue sky. Just lovely.

After I shoveled the sidewalk, again, we took an hour to play outside, the three dogs and I. What else can you do? With a day like this, who needs to plant?

Planting may not be advisable with Lucy around, anyway. Lucy is a dog’s dog. Well known as a lover of sticks, she has recently taken to the remains of an old Christmas tree. The needled branches are used to mulch the acid-loving perennials. The old trunk is left behind, waiting to be chopped up for yule logs. Odds are it won’t make it to the firebox. I hadn’t foreseen the new puppy, or that she would claim it as her own.

But she has other tricks that will probably prevent any attempts to spruce up the garden. Dog’s dog Lucy is a digger. So far this winter she had dug up many of the dead annuals we had left out for the birds. She also managed to dig out an old steel fence post. She has even taken to the bricks that edge the walk to the back door. Her deceptively “soft” mouth is strong enough to lift the bricks out of the frozen ground.

All these prizes become her playthings, including the bricks, which she proudly grips with her dainty jaws while running around the yard. Her act is cute now, but if she starts eyeing the good plants, I may have to find a cute little muzzle.


Not that I have anything to worry about today. All the investments are safely dormant under the fresh blanket. Maybe Lucy will lost interest in the beds once Spring arrives. Hope IS eternal. 


--David

Hope springs

Originally Posted on iWeb
Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Today I saw a daffodil bravely poking out of the cold soil. Last summer I transplanted a hundred of them from the front of the house. The new porch needed a new planting plan, so I dug huge holes and sifted the bulbs from the soil. I tucked them into the beds in the backyard. The little kids next door where enthralled with my days of labor. They promised to come back to see them blooming. We were full of hope.

Now, the bulbs I transplanted are the first ones coming up. Will they keep growing? Will they survive to bloom? There are no guarantees in the garden.
But I will keep hoping, keep waiting.

I have been taking the Master Gardener Class since January. Tomorrow is the 11th of 12 weekly classes. Deep in January, I remember thinking how glorious Spring would be by the time I was finishing class. By now the beds would be groomed, I would have planted the early crops. I’d be watching the pea shoots emerging. I was being overly optimistic.

March is almost done, of course I am behind schedule. The raised beds are still snow covered and too wet to dig. I can’t plant seed for peas and spinach in the mud.

Am I being delusional? Has our historically early Easter, the earliest one in our lifetimes, tricked me and filled me with false expectations? Mother Nature has been not been kind, teasing me with afternoons of warm sunshine and then dosing out one chill pill after another.

Will the snow ever go away? I am ready, willing and able to put my book learnin’ to good use. I wonder if I will ever be able to get my hands in the soil.

-- David

Hope springs eternal in the human breast;
Man never Is, but always To be blest:
The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.

-Alexander Pope,
An Essay on Man, Epistle I, 1733

Lucy is waiting at the Door

Lucy waiting at the Door
Originally uploaded by David Staskowski

It is Lucy's First Birthday Today. This rescued Weim seems to be waiting at the door for friends to arrive.
Poor Lucy. Maybe someone will wish her a happy birthday. Or maybe there will be cake.

Aniol is 17 today!

Young Aniol: New York City
Originally uploaded by David Staskowski

Aniol (her name is Polish for Angel) is a rescue dog from NYC. We were brought together when she was about 8 months old, for Thanksgiving, in 1991.

She had been abused, was very skittish, and an early infection had caused cataracts in both eyes. The two of us took care of each other and we're still together. Ani is 17 as of February 14th, 2008.

This is a old distorted scanned photo but it makes me smile, just like my dog.