Just Cuz I'm Getting Older, Doesn't Mean I'm Getting Dumber

I turned 46 on my last birthday; I consider myself on the young side of middle-age, but yes, solidly middle-age.  It's been almost thirty years since I graduated from high school (thank the Good Laura).  I've raised kids, built a career, traveled across the world, been published, and learned to use just about every type of computer and dozens of different software programs since the eighties.  I've kept up.  For some reason, however, I've hit the age when those under the age of thirty assume I must be unable to either understand or learn new things.  There seems to be a little confusion over what is youth and pop culture and what is actually knowledge...

I don't mean to sound cranky, obnoxious or egotistical, but just because I'm not staying hip to new bands and music artists,  doesn't mean I don't know how to Tweet or create an event page on Facebook.  Surprise!  And guess what else I can do?  I can create and manage a big 'ole budget, decipher financial statements, chair a board meeting, write and/or edit a book, write from just about any angle, point of view, style or "voice" imaginable, book and manage international travel for two dozen people, bake a pie, build a bookcase, change the oil in a car, and carry on an extended conversation without slang or curse words.  Truly.

I worked on my first ad campaign when I was sixteen and it was fine, probably even somewhat creative and sassy, but it was in no way the best work I've ever done.  I wrote my first grant proposal when I was 22 and it was definitely not the pinnacle of my proposal-writing efforts. I have had to morph, change, learn, and let go. I may not know computer programming, but I was working on web sites when it meant copying in html and codes and spending a day getting photos, links and texts to behave the way they were supposed to.  I learned then and I'm still learning.

Ageism is an interesting thing--I've definitely been that young person trying to carve out a place in work and the world. Strangely enough, I've always most enjoyed work scenes where there was the most age and other diversity.  I've worked with brilliant people who were much younger than I and those who were amazing and 80. They all knew things, they all had great talents and knowledge and experiences to bring to the table.  I would like to hope that as I continue to get older, there will be a place for the experience, knowledge and energy I've got as well.  If not, I'm going to get damn cranky...

Nature Ain't Reading My Calendar

This week has been a good reminder all around that all the lists, calendars and datebooks in the world don't exactly dictate the schedules or behaviors of the natural world.  We've got plants coming up in unsuspecting places in our garden, chickens working together to get through fencing to devour newly-planted cauliflower starts and our 3-month-long anticipated arrival of our well-researched new breeds of baby chicks has been upended by the mere fact that the eggs haven't hatched.  What?!  We've had the date circled on our kitchen calendar!  We did our part and got everything cleaned and ready!

I don't know if I speak for other gardeners and farmer sorts, but I think the unpredictable frustration is part of what gets us hooked.  We just never know what's going to happen.  This time of year always reminds me of my late Grandpa Darrell--he was a plant-early-take-risks sort of gardener and I remember many chats about frost damage, replants and battles with time and weather.  I must have got the bug from him as I am forever taking chances, wrangling disappointment and wondering what to try next. 

It is good to be reminded that I'm not really in charge--I may have bursts of control and the best of intentions, but in the end, there is a natural world that doesn't operate by my check lists and datebook scribblings.  Damn.

Gardening with Chickens?!

No one promised us a rose garden...or, more aptly, no one promised us that having a vegetable garden, a mini-fruit orchard and a free-ranging chicken flock would be an easy merging.  In fact, we read books, we debated, and we strategized and then we finally just took a leap of faith and decided we'd figure it out as we went along.

Well...we're going along.  Last year was easy peasy--first they were chicks and then by the time they were out in the fenced back yard, the garden was big enough that they couldn't really do much damage.  This spring is a whole different situation!  Now, our veggie garden is a series of grates, fences, plastic coverings and any other sort of barriers we can come up with to keep those persistent henpeckers from our tender plants!

Yesterday, as I was attempting to plant out the Brussels sprouts, and as I was getting one jumbo flat planted, I was not only pushing the girls away, but trying to keep them from devouring the other flat I had on standby to plant next.  Just so you know, "Shoo!" doesn't really work with chickens--especially tame ones who pretty much think they rule the yard.  They aren't dummies--they want the worms unearthed while I dig, the tender leaves of the sprouting plants and to get their big 'ole scratching chicken feet into the soft, yummy compost.

I remember  how adorably cute I thought it was last Fall when they followed me around as I did my garden clean-up chores--having them under foot, ready to snatch up a freshly planted onion bulb isn't nearly as adorable. So we're back to talking about whether to build a run--at least a temporary one while the veggies are getting started.  We love the idea of letting them free range and they've come to expect it; but we'd like to have some vegetables survive their feet and beaks too!  Meanwhile, we are facing off and we are two gals trying to outsmart a trio of determined hens...stay tuned!

Spring on our Urban Farm

Trudy--the Jersey Giant who has yet to lay an egg

The grass is getting thick and green, the Currant bush is leafing and the spring flower bulbs all seem to grow 2 inches a day.  Despite the fact that we have had rain, hail, frost and bouts of sunshine for our wacky weather lately, there can be no ignoring the signs of spring on our little urban farm on Cedar Street.

Our easy-going Buff Orpington hen, Hilda, is fluffing back up after a pretty raggedy moult that started after Christmas and our shiny Black Australorp, Ginny, has been laying now since late January. The wild card and severely late bloomer, Trudy, actually seems to be looking like she might figure out she has a hen's job to do pretty soon as well.


Hilda, our Buff Orpington who is on the upside after a late-Winter moult. Her comb and wattle are still a little muted and she's not quite back to laying yet.

 Meanwhile, we've got the brood box scrubbed with vinegar and ready for the arrival of the new babies this week. Brood box=big grey plastic tote! Our plan is to bring home three new ones mid-week so we can start this hen-raising ride all over again and see if we can't round out our beginner's flock to a respectable half dozen. We are choosing three more heritage breeds--although this time, we are going for medium-sized birds (our current girls are some of the largest heritage breeds available--Trudy being THE largest.)



Ginny--our Black Australorp has her shiny new post-moult fluff and she is up to laying about 4 big eggs a week.

Hyssop, Rosemary, Brussels Sprouts and Cauliflower awaiting their new home in our garden.

On the garden-growing side of things, we run out between rain showers and hail storms to prepare veggie beds, plant onions and work on the creation of our new herbs-for-bees beds in the front yard.  This time of year is always a mix of excitement, hard work and mud as we fight the urge to stay curled up inside for one more weekend, knowing full well that this really is the time to get a good start on the Brassicas and spring stuff if we want to have a good show of things!

And, in the window sills, our tomato, pepper and eggplant seedlings are, hopefully, getting a solid start.  We are tolerating the boxes and trays as part of our current decor in anticipation of a fat smattering of vegetables this summer.  I'm always amazed how no matter how much planning and plotting I do during the winter, the first of March comes along and I already feel like I'm behind!

Cracking Open Creativity

Two dozen herb-dyed eggs--dipped and dyed naturally with herbs like hibiscus, curry powder, cinnamon, calendula, spinich powder, turmeric, black & green tea, and chaga mushroom--all for an Easter-inspired article.

Up until recently, I was the executive director of a small, dynamic, financially-strapped, forty-six-year-old nonprofit organization.  My days were full and long--meetings, grant proposals, donor visits, personnel management, committees, task forces, work plans, budgets, etc.  It was great, hard and inspiring work and I feel privileged to have been allowed to do it; I got to work with some of the most amazing people in the world--but the universe has moved me in another direction and it is taking some adjusting of the creative variety...

I am now doing marketing and public relations full time as part of a young, creative marketing department at a very upbeat, very environmentally aware and mission-driven company.  I don't have to supervise anyone and there are no 7 am or 8 pm meetings--but what is required is an almost constant focus on communication and creativity--ideas, answers, angles, images, and words.  My creative capabilities have gotten a bit constrained in the past few years so I feel myself having to stretch, crack open, and get back in touch with fun, playful, exciting, expansive, and collaborative processes. There is a whole lot of saying "Yes" and "Let's" and that just hasn't been my world for a while!

I have had a few different models for getting older and I feel myself making some intentional choices as I'm solidly hitting middle age. There are those who want to move into authority, comfort, and being a solid and safe expert; there are those who want to settle in quietly among their peers, looking back at the collective "good old days" and reminding people that in their day, things were done a certain, perfect way; and then there are those who let themselves be challenged, learn from younger folks and newer ideas, reinvent, let go and start over--I'm pretty sure that is the tract I'm on!

I don't have a need to feel settled and while I've learned a great deal, I imagine there are always people with newer and better ways and ideas.  I don't mind admitting when I've failed or its time to step aside and let someone else make the calls and there are always so many different ways to tackle a problem or a challenge. But, while problem-solving is a form of creativity, it isn't the all of it!

So, while I'm getting used to working with new people in a new space, I'm also trying to get back in touch with the less serious and weighted part of me--I'm trying to dig around in the back of my mental and spiritual closet and find the sassy jeans and the big jewelry; the slightly irreverant and punkish gal who can turn products into stories and find themes and captivating images in the every day--she's there--she just has to climb out from under the stacks of budgets and bitterness!

Spoiled for Tea

For our Valentine's gift to ourselves, we spent last weekend at a locally lesbian owned day spa getting hour-long massages.  While we were waiting to be called upstairs into the inner sanctum of Yanni music and warm towels, we served ourselves up a cup of hot tea.  Teri turned to me and made a pinchy face after the first sip of ordinary tea bag tea and whispered "You've spoiled me for regular tea and it only took a few weeks!" True.  Who knew how quickly we'd become absolutely addicted to fresh, loose leaf teas?

In the matter of just a few weeks, we went from skeptical doubters, clinging to our grocery store bought boxes of chamomile and mint tucked in little paper pouches, to full-on adventurers--mixing pots of nettle root, dandelion leaf and spearmint.  Teri has collected a half dozen different types of tea infusers--including one in the shape of a tiny metal robot.  We've made it by the cup and by the pot and, I confess, I've even thrown a handful of herbs into a big beer mug and poured the hot water over; slurping in the floaty leaves as I drink.  Ah, what a slippery slope to strawberry leaf and dried hibiscus!

It's good stuff--the taste far surpasses anything we've had this side of freshly harvested from our garden, but I don't think that is the all of it.  We've been enjoying the experimentation, the ceremony, the opening up of jars and taking big deep smells of leafy, rooty, flowery goodness.  We've started to do a little research, trying to educate ourselves on what herbs are supposed to be good for what, but to be honest, that part hasn't really turned us on as much as just the flavors and feel-good act of sipping freshly brewed herbal tea.  We have become addicts and snobs all in a matter of a month!

Girl Scout Cookies!

 

It's that time.  No, not Valentine's Day or Spring or President's Day or even St. Patrick's Day.  It's another sort of celebration of the green--It's Girl Scout Cookie Time (GSCT--not to be confused with PST or any other ST--as in standard time). Today, we plunked down $20 for 5 boxes of Girl Scout cookies...and we did it for a dozen different reasons and without the tiniest smidge of guilt.

 

Yes, the cookies are yummy, but honestly, there is no other time of the year where I would pay $4 for 14 coconut and chocolate cookies (yup, the Samoas are my favorite) and there is no other time of the year where I will eat that entire box of 14 cookies in one day.  But, it feels like my duty; it feels like the most feminist, pro-lesbian, pro-free enterprise, loyal thing to do all around. 

 

Teri and I have both been Cookie Moms; we both have tales of stacking, counting, and selling cookies out of the backseat of the family car.  In the years we've been together, there has not been a GS cookie-free February.  We've driven around town looking for a card table and brown beanies, we've pre-ordered and, like today, we've rushed through our grocery shopping to make sure we got back outside to let loose of our twin tens in time to walk away with a few boxes of Thin Mints and Samoas.

 

It feels especially revolutionary this year as the Boy Scouts are finally getting their day in court (sort of) for some pretty intense homophobic and hateful carryings on.  While they've been busy with their hate and discontent, the Girl Scouts have always been pretty darn inclusive, empowering and not the slightest bit fussy about the Ls or the Ts in GLBTIQ--at least as far as I know.

 

My daughters went to Girl Scout camp, sold cookies and sewed badges to their chocolate brown Brownie vests but I don't think that's the only reason I still buy cookies.  Honestly, it just seems like an awesomely good thing to do.