Grumpy Farmers

After finally finishing the West garden beds Friday and Saturday, Saturday afternoon was potatoes, potatoes.

Most store potatoes are sprayed to not sprout, but your normal, non-agribusiness mutant potato, you just cut a piece off with 1-3 eyes in it, plant it 4" deep with the eye pointing up, tend, and voila! A potato plant with little clones of your seed potato underground.

Even though you should have a decent piece of potato to feed the eye, my book says many an impoverished farmer has pulled a potato crop from peelings alone. Now there is proof of a God.

We planted the first half too close together before I read further. Oh well, I anticipate a lot of learning the hard way this year. When they pop up, I'll see if I can carefully thin and transplant. Intensive gardening (rather than row gardening) is a little different on spacing.

Saturday found mom and I up late with a camping lamp putting in onions, bush beans and peas. In my typical obsessiveness, I was sure they would certainly die if they had to wait until Monday. Mm, probably not.

Sunday started off ok. I went to Sacrament meeting where David was sustained as a Gospel Doctrine teacher and I was put in as (as David calls it) "co-assistant to the primary pianist page turner," which really is a calling to be one of two pianists (too many people in this ward).

There were more of our weekly tears over how the church is less true here and how we totally love Utah six out of the seven days, but that is more for missing the enthusiasm, unity and love of East Pas more than any poor reflection on here. Well, I guess I don't really need to say that, since no one here reads my blog but Paw-in-law, and he's already told me to "get over it." :) I love my grumpy Paw-in-law, must be that same gene that makes me love my grumpy husband.

Anyway, things went downhill from there when I found out my mother's day present was a stomach flu and there was various unpleasant barf-related activities the remainder of the evening.

But really, my mother's day present was a fabulous, hand-made compost tumbler from my husband. He explained that I should see it as a symbol of our relationship--an unattractive thing filled with garbage and other things no one else would want ("Why would you want to keep that?" They would say). Yet, I am strangely compelled to love it and be excited about it. Oh, David, you don't stink that much.

Today I went to add more chicken litter to the bin (Elaine still has 'em, but is bringing me the poop), and it was actually hot and steamy! The little microscopic critters are doing their business and it should be ready to put on the gardens in two weeks.

Monday I was in bed all day, wrote half a book on the computer while lying down, then decided it was lame and dispensed with it. Baby didn't feel well either, she was whining or laying on me most of the day. This stomach bug has run through or is running through most people we know.

Much more stress was piled on both Monday and Tuesday relating to non-blog-appropriate concerns, which kept me up until 2:30 last night trying to find solutions. Calling all prayers!

Today I still felt queasy, but stumbled through the day, finishing the onions, putting in carrots, and preparing to do beets and chard (mainly for Aunt Anita and Uncle Bob, who bought the seeds) tomorrow. David is still working on the coop and almost finished framing today. Elaine also came over today and we talked logistics and commisserated on the joys and sorrows of living with the Saints in exile (no, this is not Zion, remember? We're in the wilderness here).

The West garden is almost full, but the pasture hasn't been plowed and we are having a hard time finding a tractor to do it. Since I'm sick, I'm not caring as much as I should. Things need planting in the next two weeks and that's the only place they can go, but I feel weird asking strangers in the ward for such a big favor, renting is just too expensive, and the tiller will take a full three, laborious days and risk of loss of toes (versus one hour with a tractor and fewer limbs lost).

I know I owe everyone pictures, David will be out of town this week so at least one night should be free to blow on my own pursuits. This is a very rambling post, but that's what you get for reading my boring journal. How about I end on a more elevating thought?

"We are instructed to 'come unto Christ, and be perfected in him, and deny ourselves] of all ungodliness' (Moroni 10:32), to become 'new creature[s]' in Christ (see 2 Corinthians 5:17), to put off 'the natural man' (Mosiah 3:19), and to experience 'a mighty change in us, or in our hearts, that we have no more disposition to do evil, but to do good continually' (Mosiah 5:2). Please note that the conversion described in these verses is mighty, not minor--a spiritual rebirth and fundamental change of what we feel and desire, what we think and do, and what we are.

Indeed, the essence of the gospel of Jesus Christ entails a fundamental and permanent change in our very nature made possible through our reliance upon 'the merits, and mercy, and grace of the Holy Messiah' (2 Nephi 2:8). As we choose to
follow the Master, we choose to be changed--to be spiritually reborn."

David A. Bednar, "Ye Must Be Born Again," Ensign, May 2007