This morning, on Public Radio's Garden Talk (which happened to be on when I was driving Millie to doggie daycare), the person interviewed was the author of the new book, Home Greenhouse Revival -- Leslie Halleck. Talk about dangling temptation in front of my nose! Imagine, if I had a small greenhouse, I could continue garden work even on the coldest day in January! Then I googled the price of putting up something that was well ventilated, heated, insulated, etc. I do not have a spare 10k waiting to be spent and that is the absolute minimum you can expect to pay for such a structure.
Ed and I had once talked about putting up some winter growing shelter by the sheep shed. It didn't make sense to me then and there. Not enough sunlight for one thing. Sure, you could put in plant lamps (which you may have to use in any greenhouse anyway, depending on what you want to grow). And not easy to get to from the farmhouse, if there's snow. Sure, it would cost next to nothing (built by us, from scraps), but it would look miserable and probably it would not function well. In my imagination, a greenhouse would have to serve at least two purposes: one would be to continue growing things all year long, and the second -- to have the whole project be a pleasurable experience. Trekking to the sheep shed in the dead of winter, into a DIY structure, built without proper materials or heat sources or anything at all really -- well, there's no beauty in that. At my age, beauty is an important component of a day.
But isn't extending the growing season in this way a fool's errand anyway? Doesn't a garden person need the winter pause to think, rest, reimagine how it all will come together next spring? I don't know about that. I find winter to be long because we spend too little time outdoors. What would you do for four hours outside, especially if there is no snow and especially if you have a little pup who probably would hate the bitter cold? Wouldn't a greenhouse bring you closer to nature?
I used to have a lot of plants indoors, in the house. I'm not keen on that anymore in part because Millie eats the soil, the fallen plant debris, really pretty much anything. Most houseplants are toxic to dogs and she would surely chomp on it, if only to test you -- to see if you are paying attention. Too, house plants tend to be... boring. Same old stuff that you'll see in shopping malls and offices. Stuff that survives the inhospitable conditions of a dry warm underlit house (most homes are suboptimal in one way or another). Stuff that you'll see in Miami and Maine. Just plain boring. It seems that at one time or another, I've grown it all. Or seen it all. Or yawned at it all online.
All good reasons to contemplate life with a greenhouse. Except of course the cost. And it probably would not satisfy my HOA. I dont think they like additional structures on wee properties. Still, I can dream! A greenhouse big enough and warm enough, so that I can take a cup of coffee in there and admire a blooming plant or two. Doesn't that sound grand?
Breakfast...
Millie then goes to day care, I work on planting three very little roses (no wonder they were discounted). And I notice in my master plan that I've mixed up two big ones: Windermere was supposed to be by the drain pipe and Emile Bronte was supposed to be in front of the white fence. Somewhere along the way I switched them. Does it matter? It's a question of color: I liked the first set up better. But this will do.
And then I pick up the boys and the girl at school. Well, not exactly that: the boys are coming home by school bus, so that I actually pick them up as they get off the bus.
It saves me a whole 45 minutes to do it this way and so far, they seem to like the bus.
(what the boys like to snack on after school...)
We all then go to pick up Snowdrop. By car, because Friday is the day of the Great Adventure. Their mom tags along for this. We had wanted to go to a nearby pumpkin patch (for the annual pumpkin acquisition), but it turns out the patch is only open on the weekends. To tame their disappointment, I offer to take them all to Bruce landscapers. They usually have seasonal merchandise. Something small for their rooms.
Everyone is in a happy mood -- Snowdrop had had some extraordinary test results in school, Sparrow was deconstructing a crush entanglement in his class (not his own!), and Sandpiper just loved the idea of getting small weird pumpkins (I'm told the boys went to bed with their choices tonight).
From there, to Clasens for a treat, and then the young family goes to their various places and activities and I pick up Millie (actually, Snowdrop does the "picking up")...
... and my pup and I are off to pick up tacos for dinner for Ed and me.
I remember when he and I used to take these same tacos to various outdoor spots in the county and watch the sun go down. These days, the sun goes down long before I ever sit down to dinner. Still, it's good to have Ed here for the evening. Over tacos.
There is a beautiful full moon out tonight. Ed takes Rosie, my moped, for a spin around the new development. I'm thinking of letting Rosie go. She wont bring in much, but someone will surely love her as I did in the years I rode her, sometimes early in the morning to watch a sunrise over Lake Waubesa, sometimes to the market to pick up veggies and flowers. Now, with Millie here, I can't imagine I'd use her enough to justify the cost of keeping her. Sigh...
A late night tonight. This will be the pattern in the net week or so. Lots to do, and too few hours to fit it all in. But then, isn't this true for everyone? We are a harried lot. Maybe that's a good thing. I doubt it. Far better to step outside and just look at that full Harvest Moon (unusually bright at the September Equinox, hence the name -- giving off prolonged light, once needed for the harvest) and to gaze at it for a long long while.
with so much love...
