Your Mouth Says “No,” But Company Policy Says “Yesssssss”

Eeep!

My Most Excellent Starbucks nearly let me down today, the encounter being saved by a partner whom I have heard the big bosses discuss in positive terms.

(Hey, when you do back office business out in the store, the privacy-of-stranger-anonyminity we grant each other is just not the same as a locked door. I broke the social rules, and listened to the animated conversation occurring 18 inches behind me instead of tuning it out! Sorry.)

It was a perfect day for a renewed challenge. I was the only customer in the store at Foothill and D Street in La Verne, California. four Partners were on, and I only recognized two of them.

"May I have a venti Fair Trade drip?" I asked perkily of the boy at the register.

"Uhm. A what?"

Damn. Feelings of disappoint, embarrassment, horror (how could I been so wrong about this store?!?) flash through my mind. Do I march over and pick a pound of the Cafe Estima prominently displayed at the entrance to the store, and grasp the teaching moment?. No. Again I cave; sort of:

"Never mind. Can I have a venti cup of the Mexican Shade Grown Organic that was Coffee of the Week last week?"

"Uhm, were not brewing that right now."

Silently I look the register boy square in the eye and smile. And wait. He looks nervous. Confused.

"Would you please press me a venti Shade Grown Organic coffee?"

Momentary terror crosses his face. I have used some of The Words from the training manual, he has recognized that. But he has no idea what to do. Confused, he turns to read the coffee listings that day.

Mexican Shade Grown Organic decaf is brewing. I clarify: I would like the regular coffee, not decaffeinated. More confusion.

"I, uh I don't know if, uhm, uhm, I don't know if we have any!" he finishes in a rush, relieved apparently at having found an out. I point out that there is a large display of it up front, and that if he doesn't' have a five pound bullet open already, he can use a smaller one.

Oh oh. I have used more words from that long forgotten training. Slightly misused, slightly out of context, true, but my use of the Words of Power makes him look nervous again. Who are you? I can almost hear him thinking, looking for an out.

Register Boy (his obvious fear negates calling him "man") turns to the barista pulling shots: "He wants the regular Organic Shade Grown. Can we do that?" "What?" she says. "Press a cup of that. Can we? " "Sure," she says after confirming that Register Boy has not simply misheard my request for the already brewing decaf. (A not unreasonable assumption, actually. Partly why I threw that twist in.)

Register boy asks the Positive Evaluation girl if they have the regular version; she takes pity on him and says "I've got it."

And she does; she presses my coffee, promises to bring it to me in "about 3 1/2 more minutes" and apparently teaches a different, un-aproned new partner how to do it. Whew.

This encounter, though, underscores at least one non-neferious reason for the uniformity of negative replies. People everywhere want to seem competent and knowledgeable, even if they aren't. If the person doesn't know what Fair Trade is, it can be short hop and skip to "if I don't know about, we must not have it." Similarly during the "will you press a cup" press, if a barista has never been asked to do this, either because they are really new or no one has challenged them, the odds are fair that they will say "Oh I'm sorry, no can do" as a face saving tactic.

This is not an excuse for making me squirm to get the fair trade stuff, just an observation that might help one work helpfully through future challenges.

This, by the by, is probably my last (reported) challenge unless I am in a different Starbucks and feeling really snerky. (Grin). Although I do like coffee, it is not my intent to make this Kitchen Calendar into the "Asking the Hard Green Questions" sort of blog that greenLAgirl and others do so well. And this close analysis of Fair Trade and (for me) organic issues does not fit into the Easy Green format, 'cause, well, it isn't Easy.

I may, however, link back to the Starbucks Challenge as an example, later, of how the simple actions of one person -- aided, abetted and amplified by the marvelous communication facilities of the internet -- can move the immobile, and evoke positive response from even a relatively huge corporate juggernaut.

Furnace Fun & On and Off the Wagon

Mid-fifties over night -- chilly for SoCal -- and the new furnace has me all confused. Ours was broken for a couple of years, and although it ran, it stank, so we didn't use it. So when the weather started turning cool, so did our house.

Even on the coldest nights (high 30's) the house never got cooler than 60 or so overnight, and we got used to piling on the winter blankets and saving on natural gas.

Last winter it got SO cold for SO long that we finally caved and got a new furnace. Now with the new baby, it was good timing to have done so. But I still can't quite get used to the heater, and we keep the overnight temp around 65-66F as it is.

"Why?!?"

Last winter, for one holiday or another, we went to visit Grandma and Grandpa, who keep the thermostat at 72 or more during the day, and cool it down to 70 at night. The kids -- used to bundling up and a cool sleeping temperature -- were tossing and turning in the barest of sleep wear.

"I'm hot," the oldest complained, "I can't sleep."

"Well, Grandma and Grandpa have the heater on," I explained reasonably. Without even a pause, the indignant reply came back "Why!?"

Broccoli, On the Wagon

Broccoli is sprouting; I was lazy and planted from seed outdoors. None of the lettuce is showing up yet, and if THIS whole crop goes south, I am going to assume it is the horse trough and give it away. It should make a nifty little planter, especially now that I have found the drain plug and it does not stay wet.

More garlic has come up; no sign of the chives, but they were planted later.

Leslie spotted a cool garden wagon as we drove by a garage sale, and picked it up for a mere $15. One of those lovely, heavy gauge wire things, fold down sides, sliding trays and tool holders. Looks like a real boon for doing front yard work -- hand tools and planting stuff can ride out, debris can ride back.

Maybe this will be the toy that helps us set up the Xeri-Native-Scape in lieu of a lawn we've always wanted to do . We'll see.

Off the Wagon

I have promised myself that I would put down our hard cider every weekend for the last several -- and then, like now, I remember that our online yeast purchase hasn't arrived yet. Apparently the cider yeast we ordered happened to be out of stock, but nobody mentioned it. So now it is coming November 1, but with free shipping. Yay! But really, I just want my cider down!

Which is too bad, too, because starting the cider was going to be my bribe to myself for finishing up the yard work.

Me Pick Up

And so it is out back to remove some more of the trash and debris that is driving our fence-neighbor crazy, and to make a home for the wagon. Just as soon as I finish my coffee . . .

More (Coffee) Pressing Business, and Diaper, Diaper, Who's Got the Diaper?

This morning Hannah and I stopped at our usual Starbucks in La Verne, at D Street and Foothill. I was kind of interested in having that Organic, Shade Grown Mexican coffee, but was disappointed to see that it wasn’t brewing, even though I understood it to be the COW from my Pasadena store.

“Oh,” I said “isn’t that shade grown coffee supposed to be the coffee of the week?”

“Yes,” the girl at the counter said “We don’t have any brewed right now, but I can press you a cup. What size would you like?”

Oooo. Cool, thought I. I didn’t even have to ask, and wasn’t going to, I had just expressed my spontaneous disappointment – and she offers to make it all better without even a blink. This store has *definitely* read the email!

Hannah and I find our seat, and endure the usual round of moms and grandmas and at least one dad cooing at and talking to Hannah. I start doing some writing, when I realize that I am sitting next to a Big Boss (some sort of regional boss, I’d guess) and the store manager in a big confab.

Coffee Command and Control

I eaves-drop shamelessly, but hear nothing at all about Fair Trade, or pressed-cups or the like.

Eventually, Hannah is a little fussy, and food isn’t working, toys aren’t working, The Blanket isn’t working – and then it dawns on me, she needs a diaper.

Starbucks (I have now learned) does not install diaper changing tables in restrooms as standard equipment. As I am changing the baby on a chair in the middle of the store, as per my usual, I turn to the Big Boss (who has been cooing at the baby) and say “Man, you guys could really use a diaper changing table.”

A short discussion ensues regarding same, in which I point out that many older DINKs (Dual Income, No Kids) are having children late, but still want to come for coffee, and that any store, like this one, with a kids' table and chair and some toys is going to attract patrons with poopy diapers too.

Now That's Customer Service

Big Boss tap-taps on her laptop and says without missing a beat “we’ll order you one.”

Buzz-whir click. The mind is busy boggling. I consider asking if it will be a Fair Trade diaper changing table, but figure the joke will be lost on her.

“Don’t forget to put it in the men’s room.” I quip instead.

“Oh, that’s right. We’d need to order two,” Big Boss says. After a few more tap taps on the laptop, she says we can do one right away: "Would you be able to use one in the women’s room.?"

Now I guess she didn’t see the irony: Here was a dad asking for a diaper changing table, which Big Boss assumed (in a fit of unconscious sexism) needed to go in the women’s restroom.

“Well, you might not want to do that, my wife in particular will give you grief for that,” I say. “She even had these special postcards printed for sexist managers.” [Click the Photo at right for a readable view]

“Would you use it if it was in the Women’s room?” she asks, determined to stick to her gender-biased reality.

“Sure,” I say laughing.

Now in fairness, their restrooms are of the one-room, lock the door type. But still I want to add “of course, your women customers will hassle me; I will need to knock on the door each time and might find it embarrassing to disturb a female potty user, and therefore will continue to use the chairs out in the main part of the store, and other dad's won't even know it's in there. And of course you are sending a subliminal message that diapers are women’s work."

But I can’t; she has been so nice and so unconsciously clueless at the same time, making her really aware of what she was doing would be pretty rude. So I give her one of our postcards (hoping she will think about it), and in a further fit of cowardice, give her the URL for this blog and greenLAgirl’ s Starbucks Challenge.

Maybe she’ll put the diaper changing table in the men’s restroom first.

Mandarins & Odd Fruit

Recent rains have got everything sprouting again. The lawn we don't water -- especially in the dehydrated and heavily trafficked front parking strip -- has started to sprout, like so much green hair on a shaved head.

The weed-lawn will start to grow to, so it will be time to whip out the ol' solar-powered, electric lawnmower and chop 'em down.

The forecast of 75F days 58F at night has been pretty off base. It has been overcast much of each day, with a little drizzle or fog. I used to love rain and fog and cloudy days in fall and winter, now I just see it as wasted electricity because the solar cells don't put out much juice on a cloudy day. (We do get from 1/4 to 1/3 or so of normal, even in the rain, but I really want to see a surplus so we can have a ZERO electric bill come April 7. )

Meanwhile, the Mandarin Orange set its winter crop a couple of months ago, and the first hint of orange is showing through the green fruit. By Christmas these will be bright orange, and may even be ripe enough to enough to eat. Certainly by January or February. Always love grabbing one of these intensely sweet oranges -- or two -- off the tree for breakfast on the way to work.

The loquat is also flowering. It will take a long winter's effort to produce fruit in spring, around March or April. Very sweet, large pit. Interesting but not compelling fruit. Makes a fair ice cream sauce, but that's about it. The tree was here when we moved in, and we hate to cut down a fruit tree, but the tree is in conflict with another, and the fruit, while prodigious, doesn't do much but feed the yard squirrels.

All the sprouting and budding and ripening put me in the mind to go check on the salad garden. Nothing is up yet. Nor would I expect it in three or four days. But all the little buds made me so hopeful, especially in light of the complete death of all the seedlings planted in the horse trough for the summer.

Speaking of the horse trough, I found a drain plug and removed it, so over winter the water can get out instead of filing up and creating a bog like happened just before I replanted it. Hope that does the trick.

Starbucks, Breastmilk & Me

I like coffee. But then you might have guessed that, given all the coffee cup graphics here. So I have been watching the Starbucks Challenge over on greenlagirl with some interest, and think the idea of Fair Trade products is not so bad. I wanted to play too, so today, when I stopped for coffee, I resolved to ask for a Fair Trade cup. Here's what happened at the store in La Verne, California at the corner of Foothill and D Street today:


SBX Challenge: My Turn

The line was out the door – nearly 20 people – so I had plenty of time to screw up my courage to ask for the Fair Trade drip. And I was really going to do it too, long line or not. I felt like I could because I kind of know this crew because I come here so often.

“Can I get something started for you, sir?” the counter guy asked as he worked his way down the line. I was six patrons away from the register.

“Yes. I’d like –” I began, thenhen silence: Tic tic tic, the quiet stretched out longer than the line. “Uhhhhhm, a venti mild drip, please,” I finished, caving to the self-imposed pressure of the line behind me. And a venti hot water, half full, please. ”

“Yes, sir,” he said, “The mild is almost finished brewing, I’ll bring it over to you; here’s the water.”

“Uhm, thanks. Say – oh never mind.”

Just Like Mother Makes

See, I’m a stay-at-home dad this semester. My four-month-old daughter Hannah and I drop big brother Spencer off at 5th Grade down the street, but the traffic home is abysmal at that hour. So I stop at the nearby Starbucks for an hour or two, writing, using the WiFi to email, etc. And I order Hannah her “mama latte” – a venti cup half full of hot water.

The half-cup is just exactly right to float a four ounce bottle of frozen breast milk in. With the lid-on, the bottle floats so that the hot water covers the entire bottle, with the hot water just a fraction of an inch below the screw top, which is important because, frankly, all baby bottles seem to leak a little. In about 10 minutes a frozen bottle is warmed to perfection, a thawed bottle in about three.

The baristas all know Hannah, and greet her by name. If I order an espresso drink, they have taken to writing “The Dad” on the cup in place of my name. In fact, I don’t think they know my name anymore.

A man with a baby is apparently such a novelty, in fact, that every mom with older kids at home and any grandparent with a grand-baby “just about her age” feels compelled to say hello.

To Hannah, not me.

Inevitably they coo at the baby, smile, and wave and say “Hi!” in a goo-goo voice, and then they make The Statement.

“Oh, having a day out with Dad, hmm?”

Okay. They know she can’t answer. I know she can’t answer. They know I know they know she can’t answer. So even though they also know that it would be impolite to say “So, first time out with the baby?” to me, they get to ask anyway by pretending to ask her.

I have considered taking ventriloquism lessons. “No, you sexist pig; dad is my primary caregiver," she would say, in a cutesy-falsetto preternaturally mature baby-voice.

“And if you don’t believe it just watch how fast he can change the nipple on a bottle one-handed, and see if he doesn’t unconsciously do the “mommy mambo” swaying back and forth to comfort me (even if I am asleep in the stroller) while he talks to you.

“And don’t even get me started on this man’s skill as a diaper slinger.”

But no. Usually I smile and say something benign yet subtly cutting: “Yep, just like every day.” (“Aha! Sexist pig!” is the subtext of course, but I smile nurturingly, and coo at the baby. No one can accuse me of anything!)

So this day, we’re settling in to our usual spot in the corner at the table with the computer plug, and the perky counter guy brings my mild-drip over. Maybe three minutes have elapsed, but the rush of 20 people is down to 2 people in line. I am emboldened.

Really Going to Do It This Time!

“Oh, hey, uhm, excuse me. “ I say, calling him back to me from halfway back to his station. “Would you be able to get me a Fair Trade drip?” I ask. He looks puzzled. “Uhm, a second cup,” I add lamely.

“Sure. I’ll hafta brew it; it’ll only take a minute.”

I’m floored. I had my “didn’t you read the email” shtick all practiced. I was prepared to politely but firmly grasp the teaching-moment and point out the fair trade label, explain the best way to “say yes” and see if he put his foot in it.

A perky “Sure!” was not in the script.

“Uhm, no, that’s okay. Next time. I didn’t want to ask before with such a long line,” I explain sheepishly. “No worries,” he says, more puzzled than before. “Just ask!”

Guess he read the email.

Way to go greenlagirl and cityhippy! Way to go Starbucks!

Salad Down, Garlic Up, Compost Gloriously Rotten!

Saturday, lazy Saturday. Overcast this morning; the high temperature for the next five days is forecast at 75F and the overnight low at 58F. No really, those exact temperatures, every day, for five days. Even the weather guy was a little taken aback. Given the fog earlier and now the overcast, I'd be surprised if we hit 75F. Either way, I'm done outside. My broken toe hurts from too much urban homesteading. Time for coffee and the newspaper -- both paper versions and electronical blogs and newspapers I like to read.

For all my pain, the Broccoli is finally in the ground today. Planted in the side yard planter -- a 4 foot wide by 20 foot long raised planter bed -- on the south side of the house about two feet from the house. It gets full sun, especially in the winter, and heat and light is reflected back onto the plants by the house wall. Should have the effect of extending even our extended growing season. Broccoli is said to be frost hearty, so should be fine over there all winter.

One catch: The roof drip-line is square in the middle of the planter box. May have to work up some sort of silent drip deflector. (Could do a rain gutter, but that sounds like so much work right now. )

Garlic is Up

Several garlic plants are up, grown to about 4 inches, but not always where we planted them. The rows are all off, and thus far there are some bare spots too, so we may replant more later when it is clear those spots are actually bare and not just "late sprouters." A couple of shallots up too, similarly skewed. (Our grub-hunting critter friends dug up and deranged our fresh planted garlic and shallots.)

Salad is Down

The endive, radicchio and escarole are in the dirt, along with red and green romaine lettuce and corn salad (mache). Planted in an old horse trough I got free on Freecycle. I had originally intended it for a water garden addition, but it was just too shallow. Tried to grow lettuce in it over the summer, but (1) ants colonized it and ate the seeds and (2) the topsoil I bought to fill in with had so much hot compostable material that it was actually hot, and drew flies, for weeks. The heat may have killed the seeds as it would in a compost bin, or the ants may have enjoyed them, or both. But not even a sprout.

Compost is Well Rotten!

The summer compost bin is closed for the nonce; we have two small ones, and it is time to let the spring and summer material finish, and spend the next six months filling the second one. I should have (once again) made the swap over to the other bin a few weeks ago, and stopped adding kitchen scraps to the summer bin. Ah well. Guess I need to get at the heavy grass growing there too.

There are other ways to do compost. For example, we could just keep adding fresh material to the top and, using the sliding door on the bottom remove the finished stuff, but I like to clean the bin out completely at least once a year. No good reason, just like to see what's in there, and if I don't like it, send it home.

Worms, Spiders, Redwoods & Politics

Clear and 55F this morning, on its way up to 80F. Hannah and I will do some more precinct walking this morning. Then home for household chores and, with luck, time to finish the winter garden.

Interesting observation walking door-to-door in San Marino for a political campaign:

1. An amazing number of people in this affluent community are apparently not registered to vote, or don't vote regularly. On my list of registered voters, sometimes there will be one house out of four with a registered voter.

2. When the incumbent has been in a not-very-sexy community college board position for a long time, people are really interested to hear about a new candidate. We will see how that translates into votes.


The Redwood Forest

The Sequoia (giant redwood) saplings in our backyard have enjoyed the rain and cooler weather, have turned a deep green and are sending out new healthy growth. Overall, our SoCal winter is much more agreeable to them, as it is more than a little hot and dry for this coastal rainforest tree. But I am a bit sentimental about them, as I picked them up in Big Sur, one of my favorite childhood vacation and camping spots. I will have to wax eloquent one day about both the Big Sur Lodge and the Big Sur River Inn, as well as the tent camping.

Ah, see? These two little five-year-old saplings are another vehicle in my little time -machine garden. (See Night Blooming Jasmine, previous.)

As The Worm Turns

The worm bin needs to be revitalized, cleaned up, fixed up for the winter. Perhaps some castings harvested and some new bedding material added. Need to swap out either the base or the nozzle for the worm tea, but will try to outfit it with a strainer. A certain amount of the castings fall out into the tea, and run through the spigot, and cause it to work only with difficulty and eventually to jam and break. Until today I hadn't found a source for the spigot, but may have today while looking for worm bin graphics.

I will have to do an Easy Green screed on simple worm composting.

Spiders
We don't use pesticides or chemical fertilizers on the yard. So we have a lot of creatures -- the good kind and the bad kind, but mostly the good kind. We have some amazing outdoor spiders, with a body as big as the tip of a man's thumb. They spin webs that span 20 feet from a tree to the house, classic circular spider webs. On a misty morning they are fascinating. Every now and then a person will look overhead and see one of local pest-catchers working overhead. Although they are mostly benign, spiders still have an effect on one. Here is one of our big boys found the other morning.

Electricity Doesn't Grow On Trees It Falls From the Sky

Today dawned crisp and clear and cool and sunny. Ooooh bright it was, and the ol' solar panels were cranking away, putting out nearly 1500 watts at 9:00; we are back to partly cloudy now (sigh) but it is still a pleasant day.

On today's agenda: Hannah and I will be precinct walking for Hillary Bradbury-Huang, a candidate for the local non-partisan community college district with good green ideas mixed with a corporate sensibility. (Should have finished two weeks ago, but various maladies interfered.) Then back to put in some of that winter planting this afternoon and finish securing the back yard against the rest of winter.

In summer the backyard is our outdoor living/dining room; winter here is enough like winter that we mostly move indoors, especially for meals. All summer, we have a tendency to eat outside under the tree with the big light in it -- what we call the moontree.

Speaking of the moon, last night was intensely clear (no clouds, rain washed air) and the moon only a little past full. No stars were visible in the city competing with the very bright moon, but Mars, alone with the moon, shone out just below our near neighbor. And it was oh-so-clearly Mars, for it was big and bright as stars go, and red. Yes, mars is distinctly red when seen with the naked eye. Tonight, if it is clear, I think we will have to track down the ol' telescope.

If there is a chance, we will stop for tea or a little fair trade drip coffee at Starbucks, and make use of the WiFi link to update the Easy Green blog. There are ten articles in the draft cue that need to be polished up. and published!

Rain Grows the Garlic-O!

Over night we had another .3 inches of rain for a total of 2.6 this three-day storm. Whew! But this morning is overcast and essentially dry. And the good soaking has pleased the garlic and shallots which are poking their heads up out of the dirt a good inch or more since I last ventured out to have a look. Yay!

We need more garlic, planted in a couple three weeks, so the next bed comes ready later than this bed. Garlic dries and stores just fine, but green garlic -- fresh from the earth -- has less bite and a more subtle flavor.

Also garlic greens make a sort of garlic flavored chive or green onion type vegetable. Very nice on salads, in stir fry etc.

Also, would like to avoid eating all the crop this time in order to let some go to seed. (Grin.) I have read that the flower tops when young are excellent stir fried.

Today: Overcast, threatening but not raining. Temps in high 50s, 67 in the house all day without heat on. On the broadband: Celtic Radio http://www.accuradio.com/celtic/

October is a Crazy Month for Weather

October is a crazy month for weather in southern California. Scorching heat, hot dry winds one day; torrential rain, hail, flash flooding the next. Unless the whole month turns out to be a scorcher, which does happen, although just about as often as its opposite: temperatures in the 40s and 50s straight through to Thanksgiving.

This year is a flip-floppy sort of year.

Friday was clear, hot, very dry (down near less than 10% humidity). Saturday morning was hot, but by noon a cold south wind (!) pushed the temperature down below 70. By Saturday evening and Sunday, spectacular thunder and lighting, buckets upon buckets of rain.

Monday, even more intense rain; clouds so dark it looked like night. The streetlights actually turned on, it was so dark. Then sunny. Then crashing thundering buckets of rain.

In the 48 hours since the rain began we've gotten 2.3 inches in my backyard, which does not include the 45 minutes or so of marble sized hail splattered all over.

Now for people with regular weather, this may not seem like a big deal. But this is Pasadena we're talking about, Southern California, where it never rains on New Year's day for the big Parade to celebrate the great year-round growing climate. Hail, indeed!

Summer's End / Winter Planting / Heat

90F + today, hot hot hot dry wind. Forecast? Flash floods and rain! We'll see.

Summer Debris, Winter Sowing

Meanwhile, the last of the summer garden came down today. Dried cornstalks uprooted and added to the compost pile, dried sunflower stalks likewise. Crunchy sugar pea vines threaded out of the chain link fence-cum-trellis, a last grope for rogue potatoes that might have been missed. Also weeded out first of the winter garden last weekend and put in garlic and shallots.

Garlic is amusing as "seeds" come from the produce department. In this case, organic garlic from Organic Express. And Von's. Took the largest cloves from several bulbs and sowed them. Learned with last crop that size of the starting clove is a big factor in finished clove. Shallots also came from produce department. Not organic, so not as excited about those.

Mid-week our Marauder -- probably a skunk, but could be a possum or even raccoon -- got into the water garden. He loves to shred water lilies while fishing. The mosquito fish, fortunately, breed prodigiously, and in the four years our water garden has been up, we've never had a 100% die off. Or any mosquitoes.

Marauder also had a dig in the garlic bed, disturbed a few, but was probably looking for grubs or earth worms in the turned dirt. (Once I left the lid on the worm bin too loose, and someone had a feast. The worms are back, but I keep a brick on the lid now.)

Salad Days of Winter

Sometime this week will get the rest of my winter "Salad Garden" in the ground: Chives, Broccoli, endive, escarole, radicchio, corn salad (aka mache or valerianella locusta), green and red romaine lettuces, Italian arugula. And French carrots.

It's a lot, I know, but if half the crop does half what it should in the temperate fall here, we will do okay. 'Course, these should have gone in the ground three or four weeks ago, but that just wasn't possible due to various maladies.

I went kind of crazy at the Renee's Garden display at the hardware. Some great seeds that are hard to find, and it made me happy to put back all the "Miracle Gro" seeds I had reluctantly been gathering, and go with Renee's.



Summer Finale

For the past several weeks, the Night Blooming Jasmine we planted two years ago has been in crazy-bloom! Intense, lovely perfume drifts for blocks when the plants are blooming, and of course they only bloom at night.

The scent is a little heavy, almost cloying, but I love it -- probably the only thing of that kind that I do. It reminds me of later summers and early fall as a boy at the Great Grandmother's house on Balboa Island. After a long walk around the island, we'd get within a 100 feet of the house and there would be that smell; and my mother would say, sniffing the air vigorously "Mmmm. Night blooming jasmine!" And we would breathe deep as we passed through the creaky old wooden gate, and in a few seconds we'd be indoors, getting ready for bed in a house that smelled of ancient mildew and salt spray as only a beach house can.

Night blooming jasmine is my own little time machine.

Just Like the Great-Grands

When I was a boy, my Great Aunt and her sister, my Great Grandmother, kept daily notes on a kitchen calendar or calendar book. They would make observations about the weather, who they saw, what they did, and, most interestingly to me, notes about which plants had come into bloom and what had been planted or taken up.

This is my version of the same thing.

I could keep it in a private book in my house, but I have tried that before and find that I give up. Not sure if I will give up here, but I hope I will not.

This is mostly trivia, encompassing the afformentioned garden notes, weather observations and natural history. I will probably also include periodic posts in Journal form that will be duplicated to my "Easy Green" site.

You are welcome to comment, ask questions, offer suggestions. On the other hand, I do not expect anyone really to read this but me.