Plant a Row for the Hungry: Wrap Up

Yesterday, I gave my last donation of homegrown produce to Harvester's, our local food bank. As I reported last May (before my life got flipped upside down) I rented a plot in my community garden with the intent of growing food for the hungry. The local foodbank has a program called "Plant a Row for the Hungry," which is a national program/movement/whatever. The idea is that home gardeners plant an extra row of produce to donate.

I have been giving all season. I planted items that the foodbank recommended as good to donate. I had more success with some things than others.

On 10/15, I harvested 15 beets from the plot.

Initially, I planted mustard greens, peppers (banana, jalapeno, bell), parsley, green beans, and zucchini.  Later in the season, I did a second planting of greens, Red Sails lettuce, and beets. I had the most success with the greens, lettuce and beets. Next best were the parsley and banana peppers. The bell peppers really started to produce after the heat of summer was over. I only started getting jalapenos since the end of September.

The green beans and zucchini were a bust. The beans were attacked by some kind of bug that chewed holes in the leaves, and those plants got overwhelmed (buried!) by the giant zucchini plants. The zukes got attacked by vine borers as I knew they would, but I hoped they'd produce before they keeled over. I think I got 4 fruits before a mouse family moved in, and I never saw another zucchini, baby or better.

I did grow some impressive zucchini plants, though.

As you can see, the beets were extremely successful. I have such giddy delight when I harvest!!

Bundled in bunches of five.

Beets are doubly good - you can eat the greens and the roots.

I donated about 20 pounds of fresh produce to Harvesters this season. I hope it went to good use. Next year, I will try to build a team for this project - it was a lot of work on my own and I think I'd feel more accomplished if I could enlist a group to help tend the garden and deliver the produce.

So...

I came back to work to find a message on my voice mail. A recruiter for IT in healthcare. I wonder what job they want me for?  Is it time for a change?

Looking at their website, there's a nursing informatics position in Oregon.

Really, it doesn't suck *that* bad

I was feeling a bit raw when I wrote my previous post. It's really not that bad, and eventually I'll be fine. I'm home now and this time, my flights were perfect. No delays, no bumps, no bad weather. I'm glad to be home and have two happy dogs awaiting my return.

I had a lovely diversion while driving from the Asbury Park area to our hotel near Dulles airport. We popped off the highway to stop at a fabric shop that I had found on the Internet. Read all about it at my crafting blog rikrax.  Now I have some new projects to work on!

Dad seemed OK, a bit lonely, but generally doing alright. I got to visit with my Mom's long time friend at the memorial service. I have lots of thank you letters to write. Nevertheless, I'm really glad to have this weekend behind me. Back to work tomorrow!

A difficult week, by any standard

I want to give witness to this week. It's one of those weeks that seems statistically improbable. It feels unbelievable.

I have been on the east coast for the past 5 days conducting the last events related to my mother's death. She had asked for some of her ashes to be interred at a memorial garden in her former church, back up in the northern NJ church where she still was a member, officially. Mind you, she'd retired to Virginia about 15 years ago. But, she never quite let go of the church, the Presbyterian Church at Franklin Lakes. They have since built a memorial garden for members.  The church was kind enough to allow us to hold a memorial service. We invited the local friends. It was a nice service much like the one back in June, although, this one had more of a Presbyterian focus. We buried one third of her ashes in the garden and planted a purple mum on top.

Afterwards, we had a reception at the church. That also went well. We had too much food, and they were supposed to set up the coffee makers, and they just dropped off a bag of ground coffee. Whoops.  The food was excellent (The Market Basket was the caterer - of course it was top-notch).

One third of her ashes were in Virginia, one third at the church, we had one more portion to take care of. At her request, the last third was to go to the Atlantic ocean.

Next day we took the final third of the ashes to Asbury Park to set free in the ocean. Asbury Park was significant to my mother because she grew up nearby and worked at this beach summers, as a teenager. It was lovely weather, and it was not too hard to find a quiet spot to sprinkle the bag of gray ash into the cool clear waters. 

What was unbelievable was that while we drove to Asbury Park, the vet where our cat was being housed called. Dmitri, our kitty, was not doing well - difficulty breathing with swelling of the tongue and throat. They gave him a shot of cortisone and oxygen. I told them no heroics...after all the cat was 16 years old and had not been doing all that well at home. Forty five minutes later, the vet called back. No improvement; it was likely he had a tumor pressing on his throat. So, I took a deep breath and told the vet that it was time.

So, I buried my mother, I put my cat down in the last few days.  

How shall I top off this wonderful week?

With a mammogram.

Can't get better than that, I tell ya. 

I got away, and I'm back to a mess...

I went to a conference for 4 days last week. It was wonderful - I was away from the normal stresses of life and I could forget about all of it for a while.  I really did! I was not so sad, I ate well, I didn't feel like I wasn't doing enough, I didn't have to go to rehearsals, I didn't have to exercise.  I visited with an old friend who lives near the city where the conference was held.  I had wine. I could think about things on my job freely and creatively. I could read my O Magazine and dream.

I come home and all the stresses are here waiting for me.

Sometimes I hate fall. It's a lovely time of year but everything is crammed into fall. My next post will probably be at Christmas, just because this time of year flies by too fast.

My house is cluttered, the native stone I purchased to do some landscaping with sits in a pile, my mother's memorial service is coming up and my brother and father can't make a decision on their own. There are a dozen cool things to be involved in for my church, my community, and both of my quilt guilds. I think up some awesome ideas to build something of consequence, like a clarinet choir, a professional organization for nurse informaticists, a local user group conference for Epic software.  I'm pressured to join a bell choir. I'm pressured to lose weight. I'm pressured to stay home and watch TV with my husband to maintain my marriage.

I have no doubt I could do any of that stuff.  I am merely overwhelmed with what to do. Jeez, and I don't even have kids to add to the mix.

Be calm.  Breathe. It is not the end of the world if I don't do any of it.

Where I am now...

I am still here and I'm working through the cloud of sadness. This makes it sound like I'm walking around with a grim expression on my face, on the verge of tears all the time. I'm not...in fact I laugh, and I socialize, and I create, and I cook, and all those normal things. It just takes a bit more energy to do every little thing, and that wears me out by the end of the day.

I had made a resolution to start going back to the gym in September. It has been so dreadfully hot here and I was exhausted, and there was yard work. I found a lot of comfort sitting stupid in front of the TV. Having new episodes of Burn Notice and Project Runway available made it that much more comfortable.

I started following The Free Motion Quilting Project blog by Leah Day and I read her series of posts on her sinkhole quilt. I am not alone in depression and a difficult childhood. This I know already...but I found it inspirational and courageous. I appreciated that she shared her issues with the world. Made me want to write a bit today.

Music. It seems odd to me that music would, given my upbringing because I was not raised by musicians. I was not taught to view life through music. Somehow it grew in me. Becoming a singer probably accelerated the process - the clarinet speaks for me in one way, but it's so personal to me when I use the physical instrument.

This past week I purchased The List, a collection of classic heritage music by Rosanne Cash. When she was 18, her father, Johnny Cash, gave her a list of 100 songs that he considered to be essential literature for any American songwriter or musician. It is a collection of country, rhythm and blues, Appalachian, folk, gospel and Southern Blues. She chose 12 songs from this list for the album. She interpreted them anew.

Right now, I am taken by the second track, "Motherless Children." Sure, the connection is obvious. The phrasing is simple, but the words are profound in their simplicity and they resonate with me.

I keep thinking I should write a resource list for the grieving with all I'm learning.

Grieving takes energy

This grieving is so strange. I am exhausted and I have little energy to blog. You'd think blogging just flows naturally as life goes on and you find things to write about.

But it doesn't.

Guilt, self criticism. I should blog more. I haven't written on rikrax, my project blog, in weeks. I have been sewing, but I can't get the energy to take a picture and post it. I guess it's the grieving, the depression, the lack of interest, the feeling of exhaustion at the end of the day.

And this morning, I completely forgot a rehearsal. I just didn't show up...they called and looked for me and I was fresh out of the shower not ready to drop everything and rush to join them. I just told them I wouldn't be there. It's terrible. I take my music very seriously and I don't just skip rehearsals. More guilt.  I have let them down.

I'm trying to be patient with myself, though. They say you're supposed to be scattered and tired early on in mourning a big loss. "Early on," they say, is the first 3 months. It has been seven and a half weeks since Mom died, and to me, it feels like it's been a long time. I should be "back to normal," I think. But by the calendar, I'm barely half way in the first stage of the grief timeline.

It seems like I should be over it by now. Apparently I'm not.