Yes, yes, I'm a terrible blogger; yes, I've kept you all waiting; yes, OK, you want pictures of chickens. Have we covered all the bases now? I apologize for the wait; we had some camera issues, and some work issues, and some (let's be honest here) laziness issues. But I'm back!
Shortly after my last post, the Chicken Man called me and told me I could pick up my birds! Amy F and her daughter Caroline accompanied me to the farm, which was jam-packed with birds, sheep, dogs, rabbits, and the ugliest freaking ducks I ever seen. (Seriously, they looked like they had leprosy, which is apparently exactly what Muscovy ducks are supposed to look like.) Chicken Man had six lovely little pullets corralled for me, so I could pick the five I wanted. I grabbed one, which freaked out, flapped at me, and ran away. My first act as a chicken rancher, and I failed miserably. I am so ashamed.
So while Chicken Man caught the pullet (it involved using a very long rod with a hook on the end that he snagged around the chicken leg) and loaded the rest into a box for me (because if I had to do it, he would spend the entire day chasing chickens), we checked out all the other animals. We fed baby goats (far cuter than pushy adult goats) and cuddled rabbits. Then we stopped at Tractor Supply for some extra bedding, and at Dunkin' Donuts to fortify ourselves.
Back at the farmstead, Caroline helped me unload the chickens from the cardboard box. They were just fine, even though they had made some pathetic noises while in the car. It turns out that freaked out chickens in a box = a lot of smelly liquid poop. The girls checked out their new digs, but we had to lure them out into the run with food trailed down the gangplank. Once they discovered the feeder hanging out there, though, nature took over.
The girls were about ten weeks old when I got them. Today, they're about 26 weeks and considerably fatter than in this picture (taken by Mr. Roy). Rhode Island Reds are a large breed.
And also, tough to tell apart. Their names are Nettie, Belva, Esther Mae, Pearl, and Bernice, but I couldn't for the life of me tell you which is which. My mom suggested I paint each bird's toenails a different color so I could tell them apart. I told her I'd be happy to, if she was up for holding frightened, flapping chickens while I gave them a manicure.
Mostly I just call them "the girls" or "the ladies," as in, "Good morning, ladies; what is that god-awful racket you're making?"
Once the girls arrived, the daily question of "Do you have the chickens yet?" was replaced by "Are they laying eggs yet?" RIReds don't start laying until about 22 to 24 weeks of age. In the meantime, they mostly eat. A lot. I give them pelleted food, with weeds (we call pulled weeds "chicken salad") and sometimes overripe tomatoes from the garden. So far I haven't let them out to peck in the yard; they're still too excitable. I'm hoping that by next summer they'll calm down enough to be allowed out to forage when I'm gardening.
I'm happy to report that today all the girls are laying beautiful, brown eggs. They're pretty small; young chickens lay little eggs, while older hens lay bigger ones. But I'm getting on average four eggs a day, which translates to a lot of French toast and some happy friends and neighbors. The girls don't make a whole lot of noise, but when they're pissed off, they are very vocal--especially when I've opened the nest box door to collect eggs while one of them is in there. Then they give me a very "Do you mind?" look and scamper outside to squawk about the nerve of that girl.
Our other addition here at the farmstead comes in the form of a black kitten. I did not need another cat. I did not want another cat. But Amy F and I were at Greencycle, where we dump all the organic matter from gardening to be turned into compost and mulch. Amy, duplicitous wench that she is, stuck her head out the office door and told me to come in. She was holding this tiny, tiny all-black cat. The kitten had come in when she was three or four weeks old on a semi full of pallets destined to be shredded for mulch; no one has any idea how she got on the truck. The lady in the office had been taking care of her, but she needed a home.
I held this little ten-week-old cat, who looked at me so seriously, and I knew I had to take her home. I named her Fiona. I later learned that Fiona means "fair" or "white," so let's just pretend that I meant to do that.
The other cats, not so thrilled. This sweet, quiet little kitten has become full-on ornery. She loves chasing Ace and Miss Kitty and climbing into places she's not supposed to be. She currently approaches everything with all her claws extended and fangs out. Ginny and I call her Ferocious Fee. But she's learning. She and Ace have come to a sort of agreement; they chase each other and wrestle all the time. Miss Kitty mostly does the cat equivalent of rolling her eyes. She will also whap Fi in the face repeatedly, as if dribbling a basketball, to remind her who is top cat. Miss Kitty and Ace are enjoying snacking on the kitten food, though.
So that brings you up-to-date on additions to farmstead. Updates as they occur. Or, you know, as I get around to them.
Every time I talk to someone I haven't seen in a few days, the first question I'm asked is, "Do you have the chickens yet?" Apparently, half of Indianapolis is invested in my search for chickens. The good news is that I have tracked down a farmer (Code name: Chicken Man) who confirmed he would sell me Rhode Island Reds of the right age. The bad news is that he hasn't answered his phone for a week and a half. Either he's found a chicken-sitter and gone on vacation, or, more likely, he's neck-deep in county fair stuff and is ignoring all calls.
Either way, I'm frustrated. I need chickens. I have the most unbelievable chicken coop in America and NO CHICKENS. Those of you who have been following the blog know that my dad and his BFF (Mr. Dan and Mr. Roy, respectively) offered to build me a coop. The result--well, it kind of defies description. So I present to you, "The Chicken Palace: A Pictorial Essay."
The run is the outdoor element of the coop. It allows the birds access to fresh air and sunlight while keeping them safe from predators. And in this case, it's the fanciest damn bird cage you've ever seen.
Why yes, that is constructed from 4x4 set into poured concrete. And yes, the hardware cloth is buried a foot below the ground to keep digging raccoons and the like out. But hardware cloth is pricey, so the top half is covered in 2"x3" metal mesh. The roof is translucent plastic; it will keep the rain off the birds and their bedding.
I was planning to use an old screen door, but Misters Dan and Roy were convinced their creation needed a custom-made portal. So they created one that has the same half-and-half construction. It could take a hit from an enraged bull.
I had very little to do with the construction of the run, except for minor toadying duties. I did paint the sign, though.
The little door is called a pop-hole. Dan and Roy custom made this ramp so the birds can get in and out eaily. I was going to recycle the climbing wall from the triplets' playset as the ramp, but this one is better. So instead, I set the climbing wall in the run for the chicken exercise. You can see it in the first picture. Why yes, I do believe that these chickens might be the only ones in the country with their own climbing wall.
Before, I had to go around to the automatic garage door to get in. Now I can go straight in from the back yard. This is a recycled door, and I'm planning to paint it the same blue-green as the potting bench. The trim will be cream. Why yes, Dan and Roy built the steps too.
Once you enter the garage, you are greeted by the glory that is is the henhouse. Dan and Roy have a friend who buys and flips buildings. He offered them anything they wanted from his latest acquisition, so they snagged a bunch of materials--which is why I now have what is likely the only henhouse anywhere made of cherry wainscoting. These are some lucky freaking birds.
In fact, this henhouse so classy that the door is actually hidden. It swings outward to let me into the house for cleaning. My neighbor asked me when I was going to open the nightclub, seeing as I already had the bar built.
You may have noticed that the henhouse is pretty short. There's this frame on top that keeps the birds in. When I need to get in, I pull on a cord attached to a pulley on a rafter beam (no, really) and the lid rises. I clip it to a ring to hold it in place. Seriously. I wonder if Dan and Roy were inspired by Rube Goldberg.
Here you see the outside doors to the nest boxes (hidden, naturally). To collect eggs, I drop the doors open and reach in. I don't have to walk through the coop. Are they good or what?
Here you see Dan risking his neck to install a vent fan in the garage. Without airflow, we'd be looking at some broiled chickens. So this attic fan kicks on whenever the temps get about 80 degrees. One of the windows has been replaced by a hardware-cloth-covered screen for the summer to permit the breeze in.
With the vent fan installed, the last task was lighting. Track lighting, also salvaged from Dan and Roy's friend. My chickens will have track lighting. CAS thinks we should name them all "Steve" in honor of Steel Magnolias.
So as you can see, the coop is ready for its occupants, if the farmer would just call me back. In the meantime, the only resident of the Chicken Palace is this guy, donated by yet another friend of Dan and Roy's.
Thank you, thank you, thank you to Dan and Roy. Once the girls start laying, it's all the cream pies you can eat!
it's a steamy Saturday here at the Fraudulent Farmstead, and as we speak Dan and Mr. Roy are outside working on the run section of the Chicken Palace. I truly can't call it anything else, as the run alone is about 8' x 10', made of treated 4x4s sunk into concrete and corrugated roofing. Or as my boss Terry said upon viewing it, "Damn, Amy, I think that's better built than most of the garages in Irvington."
I spent part of yesterday afternoon digging a trench around the run so that we can sink hardware cloth down about a foot to prevent raccoons and other undesirables from digging their way into the coop. Today, the crew is attaching the hardware cloth to the top half of the run and 2" x 3" fencing to the top (that hardware cloth is expensive stuff), then installing a pedestrian door into the garage so that I will be able to tend the girls without having to use the automatic garage door opener.
It promises to be an interesting day. Updates as they occur!
Happy May Day! Traditionally Beltane is a holiday celebrating fertility in all its stripes, which makes perfect sense when you take a look at what's happening in the garden. Plants are unfurling left and right, promiscuous weeds are attempting to take over, and the promise of warmer (and hopefully drier) weather is lurking on the breeze. So here's to "the lusty month of May," and the chance for us all to go blissfully astray!
In my garden, the tulips are in full bloom, including some gorgeous ruffled purple "Backpacker" tulips I bought at bargain basement prices at S&H last year. I also bought some fancy daffodils; they opened later than the others and are still blooming their heads off even as the geraniums are opening. The peonies are budding, the lilacs are starting to open, and the strawberries are blooming.
I've created the new vegetable bed in the front yard with newspaper and compost. I think I'm probably going to have to weed along the path, though; I can see grass coming up there. All my fruit shrubs are in, and I'm going to fill in the maple tree/aronia/goumi bed with yet more strawberries. The fruit sticks are starting to leaf out, and once I get more mulch I'll circle them to make mowing a bit easier. I'm scouting for recycled brick to make a mowing strip around the big round bed too; it's tough not to fling mulch everywhere when I run the mower.
I've started a load of tomatoes inside; they'll be ready for transplanting in a few weeks. I've also just started melons and summer squash inside. I've never managed to get a ripe melon by direct sowing, so this year I'm trying to get a head start.
In other news, Ginny's bathroom is finally functional! I have to add one more bit of trim, a threshold where the new tile floor meets the vinyl, and install a shower rod (as soon as I find one short enough), but then it's done. Huzzah! She's been really patient.
The Chicken Coop Caper begins this weekend, with Dan and Mr. Roy coming out to kick a few tires and maybe get the framing done. Updates as they occur!
So despite the fact that I spend a goodly part of my week working in other people's gardens, I spent last Sunday...working in other people's gardens. Granted, I did get in a little time in my own in the morning, which was a novelty. I spent a few hours digging up and rearranging plants in preparation for the Chicken Coop Caper, which is scheduled to begin this weekend.
(Side note: I had planned to spend Friday morning in my garden, but instead spent it cleaning out the garage, which was--how shall I say?--disgusting. I was briefly convinced I had contracted the Hanta virus thanks to all the mouse poop, but the wheezing has pretty much subsided. It is now as clean as it's going to get and full of coop building materials.)
So Sunday morning I dug up two caryopteris from the site of the coop, rooted out a couple of fairy roses and Knock Outs that encroached on the newly established vegetable bed in the front garden, and gathered some clumps of geranium. Then my pruners, plants, and I hit the road.
I started out at Amy F's, where I dropped off the caryopteris and the Knock Outs, despite the fact she tried to kill me with a shrub earlier in the week. (We were digging a large shrub that wasn't coming out gracefully, and she repeatedly knocked me over while attempting to both keep her footing in the mud and sever the roots. There was no joy in Mudville that day.) But being a big person (not literally, of course, I'm actually a small person, which is why she was able to knock me around so much) I overlooked her homicidal tendencies, donated to her ongoing garden redesign, squinted at the garden for a bit and brainstormed plant placement, and hit the road.
I drove north to Christy and Tim's (parents of the fabulous triplet three-year-olds) to drop off the fairy roses and geraniums. They're selling the house, so I accompanied Tim to the nursery to buy some hydrangeas for curb appeal. Tim took over child care while Christy and I planted, then the girls took turns watering in the new bed. Slightly wet and muddy hugs all around before I got back in the car.
Then it was off to a client's house to do some garden coaching. We walked around to identify the many, many shrubs previous owners had planted and talked about what she might keep and get rid of. I taught her how to make pruning cuts and we limbed up the tree that kept smacking her in the head when she mowed the lawn. I was attacked by biting ants while pruning an overgrown shrub next to the house, so I ended the session barefoot, hosing down my legs and shoes to drown those little bastards.
I finished up the day in squishy shoes severely whacking back the euonymous shrubs in front of my BFF's house. CAS's ex had sheared them for the last couple of years, and shearing just encourages huge, hairy growth at the site of the cut. When I was done with them, they looked pretty sad, but they'll leaf out again soon and be considerably better behaved. Two-year-old Calvin asked me thirty or forty times, "What are you doing?" and was somewhat displeased I would not allow him to handle the pruners; but he helped drag sticks to a pile in the backyard. CAS fed a me dinner, and I drove home to a hot bath and an early bed time.
It was a lovely, muddy, satisfying day, but I think I'll spend this Sunday in my own garden.
Which is what I've been saying to myself for three weeks. I was running sound for West Side Story at Civic Theatre for three weeks, which effectively took up all of my free time. But I've been theatre free for a week and racing to fit farmstead chores in.
We had a gorgeous March, which has been followed by a (so far) rainy, cold, blustery April. A few days with the Spotts crew have called for long underwear, two pairs of wool socks, and about six layers of clothes, but mostly we've been fine. I'm planting lots of vegetable gardens for customers this year, which naturally makes me think of my own garden...
Peas and potatoes are in the ground. I'm forgoing lettuce crops this year, mostly because Gin and I get such great salad greens from Farm Fresh Delivery, and theirs are all clean and stuff. I'll make up for my skimpy spring garden by planting in midsummer for a fall harvest--I've read that spinach, carrots, and beets are all actually sweeter if you leave them in the ground for a few frosts, so I'd like to try that this year.
The front garden expansion is making slow progress. I've planted two dwarf apple trees and a dwarf cherry. Right now they look more like fruit sticks than fruit trees; they are unbranched whips, and the stakes I used are taller than they are. My new blueberry is in, as is the Nero Aronia. I still need to plant the goumi.
In an embarrassing twist, the lovely large shrub that I thought was a blueberry revealed itself to be a thrice-damned honeysuckle. So I cut it to the ground and grubbed the roots out. I will replace it with a potted Northland blueberry as soon as the weather warms up a bit.
My giant load of compost is due to come in next week. I'm hitting up all my friends and relations for their stacks of newspaper so I can prepare the front yard vegetable bed the lazy way: I'll dump a thick layer of wet newspaper on the grass to smother it, then put compost on top. I'll plant transplants by shoving the compost aside, cutting a hole in the paper, digging a hole in the ground, and filling with compost.
On the chicken front, Mr. Dan and Mr. Roy are scouting for additional recycled materials for the house and brainstorming engineering designs. So far I have a very nice coop door I found on the side of the road, a bunch of pine panelling Amy F and her husband Kirk donated to the cause, and the disassembled pieces of the Christy and Tim's girls' playset. Thanks to their generosity, my chickens will be the only ones in America with a pop-hole gangplank made out of a climbing wall.
Right now, Gabby is glaring at Ginny for daring to bathe her, Ace is attempting to launch stealth attacks on my bedroom to harrass Miss Kitty, I have the squirt bottle handy to remind Ace he's not allowed in my bedroom, and dinner is in the oven. Yep, it's just another evening at the Fraudulent Farmstead.
Ginny, Gabby, and Ace are all moved in. Gin's still getting the basement studio arranged to her liking. Gabby is a little creakier than when she last lived here, but she's still getting up and down the stairs no problem. Ace thinks he's gone to cat heaven--windows! With ledges and seats in front of them! Birds and squirrels to watch! And--what's this?--wet cat food? Good lord, it's like kitty paradise.
Except for Kitty, who treats Ace much as a cranky seventy-year-old lady would treat that doofy thirteen-year-old kid who keeps cutting across the lawn. Or in Kitty's case, trying to lounge on her bed.
The bathroom walls are up, and the first two coast of drywall mud are on. The shower's installed and the electrical roughed in. I'm hoping to get some paint on the walls next weekend, then focus on installing the flooring so Mike can do the sink and toilet. Then Ginny will have a fully functional bath of her own. In the meantime, we're tracking a lot of drywall dust around, but otherwise the mess has stayed pretty confined.
Thanks to the run of unseasonably gorgeous weather, I got quite a bit of spring cleanup done the last few days:
Pruned the lavender.
Pruned the roses.
Cut back the Annabelle hydrangea, caryopeteris, and butterfly bush.
Limbed up the maple tree in the parking strip so people can walk under it without clocking themselves.
Turned the Biostack composter, uncovering a live, small, grey mouse in the process.
Took an old can of spray paint and marked out the new front yard potager beds and planting locations for apple and cherry trees.
Started yet another new garden journal with the hope that I'll actually keep up with this one.
Saw my first crocus today! None here at the Fraudulent Farmstead yet, but my neighbor's rock wall was sporting a cluster of bright yellow ones. We do have lots of daffodil and tulip foliage, though, so I'm hoping for blooms soon, even though the temps are supposed to drop again this week.
We always celebrate Gabby's birthday on the Ides of March, but Dan's traveling next week. So we moved it up a week, invited my parents and their friends Roy and Sherri, and combined Gab's b-day with chicken coop brainstorming. With Dan and Roy on the case, this will probably be a seriously engineered structure, and will likely cost more than I want it to (I want it to cost $50, so I KNOW it will cost more than I want it to). I have taken to haunting freecycle and craigslist in hope of scoring some free materials to recycle for the chicken palace.
AND I start with Spotts tomorrow, and this is dress rehearsal week at Civic for West SIde Story. So probably I'll collapse into a heap by Friday. Stay tuned!
As we speak, three very nice men are heaving crap around in my basement, updating the bathroom down there. After my initial estimates came back at about three times what I had intended to spend, I downgraded my wishlist. I'm keeping the same footprint and not moving the drains, which means that the bathroom will continue to be miniscule.
On the upside:
--I found a great handyman (Mike) who can complete the job without my having to sell a kidney to afford it.
--I have pulled out two layers of soggy, moldy vinyl flooring, so it smells better.
--I have pulled down cardboard-thin paper walls and composite board studs that were attached to the concrete wall, both of which we also holding moisture. Removing them also helped the smell.
--Mike is replacing any rotting or moldy studs.
--The new shower is mold free and will have actual water shut-off valves (two niceties the old shower did not have).
--Upon further inspection, Mike discovered that the homeowner from hell who installed this bath the first time did it by cutting through a return air duct, which he did not reroute or replace. This explains why the office is always so cold. So an HVAC guy is down there right now, figuring out a way to fix this inexplicable remodeling decision.
--The HVAC guy also informed me that the booming noise I hear every time the furnace fan cuts out is called "oil canning," and is the result of the metal ductwork popping in and out based on air flow. He's going to fix it by reinforcing it with a bar across the duct.
--We will be installing a panel door and replacing the vanity with a pedestal sink (both of which I've already purchased), so even though the bath is still going to be small, at least it will be easier to maneuver in.
--Today's goals are to fix the HVAC, pull up styrofoam basement insulation on the exterior wall (which Mike had to go to three different Lowes stores to find), replace some studs, install the pocket door, and install the shower. Mike will then call the drywall guys. Once the drywall guys are done, I'll paint and install floor tile (tune in for future hilarity, as this will be my first tiling experiment). Then Mike will come back and install the sink and toilet. He'll also finish up electrical and install a wall cabinet and medicine cabinet.
Ginny moves in on Saturday, so obviously the bathroom won't be ready. I'm hoping to have it all done within the next couple of weeks. Stay tuned for further adventures!
I've spent parts of the last few days refining my ideas for this summer's vegetable garden. I have seed from last year, and even though you lose about 10% germination each year, it's worth using it again. I have a lovely color-coded plan for the front yard, and I've ordered fruit trees and shrubs.
Here, then, is my first go-round on this year's edible garden:
Fruit:
Dwarf Liberty and Redfree apples (6 to 9 ft tall at maturity, 2-3 years to harvest) Both of these are recommended by the extension service for the home garden, thanks to good disease resistance. You need at least two for pollination.
Dwarf Lapins sweet cherry (6 to 7 ft at maturity, 3 years to harvest). A calculated gamble, because late frosts often kill the blossoms. But I love sweet cherries, and they often do better in the warmth of urban gardens than elsewhere.
Patriot blueberry (4 to 6 ft at maturity, 2 years to harvest). To replace the dwarf blueberries that didn't survive last summer. I do have three other blueberries out there that seem to be doing ok, so I'll see if I get berries this year.
Nero aronia (3 to 4 ft at maturity). A fruit-bearing shrub from Eastern Europe that's super-hardy and great for juice and jam. So I thought I'd give it a shot.
Sweet Scarlet goumi (4 to 6 ft at maturity). Another unusual fruit-bearing shrub. The fruits look like small cherries with "unique sweet-tart flavor that hints of cherries, apples, and black currants," according to the catalog. I've heard good things about this one.
Strawberries from various plantings already in the garden.
CAS said "Where on earth are you going to put all those fruit trees?" The answer is that the dwarf apples go on the south side of the front yard, the cherry on the north side, the blueberry in the blueberry bed, and the goumi and aronia in the parking strip that contains a maple tree (both do well in some shade). The idea is to use productive trees and shrubs to frame in the garden, then use the space in the middle for vegetable crops. I'm also planning to underplant the trees with a mix of daffodils, comfrey, dill, and other plants according to permaculture principles (more on that another time).
Vegetables:
I already have seeds for:
Jewel Tone bell peppers
Little Prince eggplant
2 mixes of heirloom tomatoes from Renee's, plus a Cherry Sugar Sweetie
Cinderella's Carriage heirloom pumpkin (a flop last year, but worth another try)
Tricolor pole beans and Rolande French filet beans
Bush Blue Lake 47 beans
Sherwood leeks
Super Sugar Snap peas
Babette French baby carrots and Romeo round baby carrots
Crimson Crunch radish
Bush Sugar Baby watermelon
Cilantro, parsley, chives
So I'd like to add to my stash:
Baby Bear pumpkin (a reliable producer for me; I trellis the vines and get enough pumpkins for Halloween decorating)
Patty Pan squash (Renee's makes a tricolor mix)
Cabbage
Swiss chard
Cucumbers for pickling
Some Roma tomatoes for canning
Salad mix, possibly Little Gem lettuce (I have to admit, I'm not very good about staying on top of the salad crops)
Edamame (Amy F grew her own last year and raved about them, so I'm giving it a try this year)
Potato (Grew my own Yukon Gold last year and had a huge rush of accomplishment when I dug them up. I'm either going to grow some in a compost pile or use them to break new ground this year)
This looks like a lot, but once you factor in succession planning, the new growing space in the front yard, and the fact that I only plant a few of each thing (I am not, thank god, trying to feed a farm family of six completely from my garden or anything), it's a not-unreasonable mix.
Of course, I may be singing a different tune in August, so stay tuned for updates.
I have an excellent book called Gardening in the Lower Midwest, in which the author referred to Zones 5 and 6 as the Zombie Zones. Having lived and gardened here in zone 5 for a long time, I cannot help but agree when Diane Heileman says, "It's close to a certainty in the quixotic zones 5 and 6 that one year--or even two or three in a row--you may have winter lows so high that the plants think they've died and gone to Tidewater Virginia, and the next year you may have temperatures so low the plants just die."
This is the latter. We've had the bone-chilling temps, and now we've come in for snow I'm pretty sure was supposed to be delivered to northern Wisconsin, where they are prepared for this sort of thing. In about a thirty-hour period, we amassed about a foot of snow. I shoveled on Tuesday evening, and again yesterday morning. Choosing to shovel out the car yesterday was a good choice, because upon leaving my house this morning, I still had to shovel a path for the car to make it into the tracks other cars had worn in the snow. The city streets weren't too bad, but I managed to get stuck four times in my neighborhood.
On the upside, you sure see a lot of your neighbors when the weather is like this. When I came lurching down the lane this evening, many of my neighbors were out with shovels, occasionally stopping to help shove cars out of ruts. It was kind of nice--Rockwellian, even. My neighbor Jim even helped me shovel a path so I could get back into my parking space (I had shoveled the exit route this morning, but neglected to shovel an entrance route.)
Truth is, if we have to have winter, I'd much rather have snow on the ground. Not only does it reflect the light (and good lord do I hate the grey days), it serves as an insulating blanket over the plants. I'm sure that plants that would otherwise do fine here just can't take the constant freezing and thawing. Plants in Minnesota don't have to deal with this sort of thing. I bet they don't grow the kind of potholes we have here either.
So I spent the two days of the snow storm in my house, repainting the bedroom. I went with a soft blue green, Martha Stewart (I know, I know) Blue Agave, although I have personally never seen a succulent anywhere near this color. I made a headboard out of some old cabinet doors painted white; it looks great, even though it took me about two hours to get them hung straight on the wall. The new curtains look warm and cozy. I'm going to make a new duvet cover too, soft yellow I think. So however temporarily, one room in my house is clean and lovely and serene.
I hear we're due for another storm next week. I think I'll paint the office.
