Well, they do call them diaries, no?
Hard to remember quickly too much before Japan, which has captured much of my attention. But today had some highlights.
I finished the project of starting up about three dozen four inch (or so) pots with homemade potting soil and seeds. Lots of heirloom tomatoes. I made the potting soil out of coarse vermiculite I bought from a dealer who guarantees it's asbestos free, and sieved finished compost.
Compost is all about what you put in it. Mine has a certain amount of yard dirt, a fair amount of fine wood, and humus from the greener stuff that rotted into it. It makes a nice mix with the vermiculite, and hopefully it will pan out all right.
Three dozen doesn't seem like anywhere near enough, but since I've gotten myself more wrapped around the idea that I have to stop being here all the time, if at all, it's more of a way to keep myself in the game.
I'm running out of books to throw away, which is cheering. Throwing books away feels like lying, cheating, or stealing might; should I find myself compelled via necessity to engage in such activities. i.e.: just wrong. Last resort.
As I get more on top of this book overpopulation problem, I'm finding myself more and more with unoccupied bookshelves. This is kind of interesting, working out what to do with them. They vary widely in quality.
Today, I took one of the worst ones out to the street. Pressboard with a cheap white veneer; the kind of thing one might be able to purchase new at Wal-mart for $20. Crap bookshelf.
Several hours later, I was perambulating about and otherwise perusing my yard and ran into my neighbor across the fence. She is an 80 year old Chicana lady who is very tough and complains a lot, but I like her. She informed me that she wanted that white thing I put out on the street, but her back was out because she'd been transplanting canna, and "cleaning up" (that's how she refers to yard work, generally; "cleaning up.")
She keeps her gates locked (as do I) so it was a little complicated for her to go find the key to the gate and let me in so I could bring the cheap pressboard POS in and lean it against her house...I offered to take it anywhere she wished, but that was where she wanted it, so that was where it went. I felt kind of guilty about making her go get the key, she was holding herself so hard...but I couldn't have gotten that thing over the fence, not with my recovering sprained ankle.
This of course immediately made me think that I should give her better bookshelves, if bookshelves is what she needs. It wouldn't take much to be better than that one. I can do that. I will.
In return, she gave me two packets of ramen noodles, beef flavor. She told me about how her youngest son (now deceased) gave her two big boxes of these, and how much she misses him. She does this; gives me odd food. She always gives me something back.
Once she gave me a plate of menudo with lungs in it. I thought it was pomegranate pith at first. But now she's more reduced than she was ten years ago when my mother bought me this place.
I met her youngest son once; he seemed nice, but wild. He was in his 40's. He bought a few of my books. He told me he was working with people on eBay to drive cars from seller to buyer.
But then he disappeared, and flyers appeared with his photo at La Tienda Thriftway, asking anyone with information to call the police. People wrote on the Topix forum, spreading rumors, wondering.
Some time later, my neighbor told me that she had gotten phone calls about her son, from people who said they had cut his arms, they had cut his legs. "Drogos," I heard her say one day, talking about her son to a visitor (we have no serious fence between our yards, and I can understand a little Spanish).
Today, she asked me if I knew how he died. "You told me a little," I replied. "I can't imagine how hard this must be for you. I hope you can try not to think about it too much."
"Yes," she replied. "I think about it too much."
Otherwise, I've been looking at what's going on with my trees and shrubs, after the terrible cold spell last month. I already figured my fig tree would die back to the ground, but I hope it will come back from the roots. Now I'm finding that my pomegranate probably will too, and that my Vitex (Chaste Tree) is likely whacked badly.
But the Chinkapin Oak I bought and planted last fall has very promising buds on it, and that Zumi crab apple? I planted it in November, and it started budding out in December. Oh boy, not good.
It went on its merry way until the terrible cold, upon which all the little pink flowers it had produced in January withered sadly.
But after the terrible cold, it came right back and now has lots of branches with happy green leaves. I've never seen anything like this before. Wow. I think everyone should have one of these. A strong new tree can help to make up for a lot.