10-10-10

Now I know how to read a bag of fertilizer. (Experienced gardeners, go ahead and snicker.) The vastness of my ignorance was the catalyst for applying to the DeKalb County Extension Office's Master Gardener program. My yard and vegetable garden are testament to the trial and error approach that has resulted in more errors than I can count.

One class and I decided:

1. I need a tiller. Because unless I'm going to landscape the yard in raised beds the whole thing needs churning and turning.

2. Learning soil science in two and a half hours is like drinking from a fire hose.

3. Pressure cookers have come a long way since my grandmother's day when explosions were a real threat.  (I got that gem from a lifetime canner/preserver who lives on a family farm. She could TEACH the master gardener program but thought she still has much to learn so she signed up.)

During class, I ignored the edict to turn off my cell phone (it's never off since my kids have to be able to reach me in an emergency) and instead silenced it and set it next to my iPad.

While we have lost much of the intrinsic lore related to self-reliant vegetable gardening (my grandparents KNEW when to plant, where to plant, when to harvest, how to can/preserve, and how to enrich soil without chemicals ...) we have gained amazing tools giving us access to a plethora of knowledge via the internet.

When the Soil Science Master opined on chemicals to balance alkalinity and acidity for various plants, I consulted an organic gardening website to see the alternative methods available because I prefer a more "natural" approach.  I snapped photos  of graphs and data I couldn't transcribe quickly or neatly enough with note-taking or the Penultimate app. I looked up a gardening book recommended by another intern and ordered it with my one-click account on Amazon.  And I used one of the breaks to review flash card apps I'll utilize to master the vocabulary and concepts I need to know to pass the final exam (it's a certification program).

The only thing my electronic tools couldn't do was prevent the mid-afternoon sleepy slump that unfortunately coincided with the basic botany lesson. Note to self: extra Diet Coke in the lunch bag for that post-prandial lull.

My bucket list has a new check for "Learn something new every year."  The Master Gardener class is intellectually stimulating, evocative, and physically challenging (thanks to the 50 required volunteer service hours in the field), so it's a great foundation for 2012.

I love the library.

When I was a kid, the library was my best friend. We moved from one Air Force base to another, changing schools, homes, and cultures at the whim of the military powers-that-be. There were constants, however: a commissary, base exchange (glorified general store), dental and hospital facility, cafeteria, and a library.

I loved the library. Children's books were always an afterthought on military bases, so I was drawn to adult literature, poring through classics by Jane Austen, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Sir Walter Scott, Louisa May Alcott, Willa Cather, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Charles Dickens. Consequently, my vocabulary was fairly precocious, though my pronunciation left much to be desired. (If you'd only read "preternatural" but never heard it spoken, you may, too, pronounce it "pre-TER-natur-OWL." Wince.

I walked or rode my bike to the library on Saturdays and spent a few happy hours choosing that week's reading. Then I stayed up late at night, loathe to put down a particularly good story (and they were ALL good), happy to pay the price the next day of sleep deprivation and dry eyes.

Since I could roar through a dozen Cherry Ames and Nancy Drews and two or three thick classics at a time, I always ran out of reading material before the next Saturday. Resigned to the fact that new books wouldn't appear, particularly when we lived on Okinawa, I just re-read the same favorites over and over again.

Today, someone said she hadn't stepped foot in a library in YEARS and wouldn't know where to begin looking for a collection of books by a famous children's author. Astonishing. Now, I do understand that there are many other ways to discover and enjoy great books. But the library is basically FREE. And if you're patient, most popular books will appear on the shelves for your reading pleasure. Plus, the DeKalb County library lets you reserve books online, so you don't even have to look for them. The system pings you when they're in and you pick them up, scan them in the self-checkout station, and move briskly on to your next stop.

There's just one problem with our library system, though. They really don't like knitting books. They add one or two with some disdain. The latest Nicky Epstein finally showed up in the catalog and I pounced. (Too late, though - dozens of other knitters noticed before I did and put in their reserve first.)

I love the library. I think I'll go right now.

Hilarious.

What happens when three brainiacs decide it would be really, really funny to open up a series of fire hydrants in the middle of the night during an arctic temp blast? Subsequent hilarity includes thick ice around a high school, through a neighborhood, and across a major thoroughfare for residents going to work. Added bonus: coverage by a local news crew.

What happens? They get caught. They are arrested and booked. And their mugs are posted on the county's website.

Not so funny after all.

Since they have so much time and energy available, I extend a cordial invitation to use that creativity at Dunwoody Nature Center. We have lots of opportunities, including mulching trails, clearing invasive vines, moving rocks, keeping the creek clear of trash and debris, preparing for some upcoming festivals, and raking the entry lane. Added bonus: fresh air, sweat equity, and a sense of accomplishment.