Spring has Sprung! (At least for this week)

Before my sister and her family arrived & we debarked on our Northern Arizona Mini-Tour a week ago, I envisioned titling my post-trip blog entry "The Transcontinental Virus Exchange Program". This is because when our two families met each other, we were each in the end-throes of some pretty nasty colds and it seemed inevitable that we'd trade them. However, we somehow seem to have avoided spreading the germs, and had a really lovely trip together. We saw many beautiful things, experienced some dramatic weather changes typical of the Southwest (including a freak cold windstorm in the middle of an otherwise idyllic sunny day, right at the time that we attempted to hike a little of the way down into the Grand Canyon), and simply had a wonderful time being together. The four children (ages 5, 3, 18 months, & 15 months) played together the best we've ever seen them. It's always good to have wide-eyed guests remind us of how fascinating and cool our surroundings really are.

If you want to read more about our trip together, check out my sister's blog. Hopefully, she'll be writing more about it & posting some more pictures. The cool '98 Toyota Corolla pictured in this entry (named Lydia), with the San Francisco Peaks behind her, is our good and faithful beast of burden (and the extent to which we burden her, especially with the roof box attached, is truly outstanding). Despite our occasional abuse (such as letting her oil run out or switching to reverse instead of overdrive as we accelerated to 65 MPH while driving down the side of Second Mesa), she's gone from 80,000 to over 150,000 miles since we purchased her, without a single problem. We hope she continues to like us. We're not excited about buying another vehicle.

But I digress. Back to the blog title I did choose. When we returned to our house late Saturday afternoon, it felt like Spring had arrived in our absence! The sun was warm and bright, and the wind was slight. There was even a beetle (a warm weather bug) scuttling across our backyard. And even better - there was Green in our yard! (Unfortunately, most of it will have to be plowed up with our scuttlehoe, because it's completely undesirable, thorny, and invasive*, but at least it's Green!) Our mint is quickly coming back from its winter slump. The native orange globe mallow we noticed last fall is starting to return, and may even have flowers before too long. The trees planted last year have buds and I have high hopes of seeing real leaves soon. And - joy of joys - one of the bulbs we purchased from High Country Gardens & planted last fall is blooming - a gorgeous deep blue iris! I wish I had a camera so I could take a picture & post it (we will soon, but it may have wilted by then).

Part of the excitement of actually having something we planted bloom is that Papaya Daddy & I both have pretty Black Thumbs. Another is simply the enormous amount of work that went into planting the bulbs. The soil behind these health-center houses is not native soil (which is, itself, not super-fertile). Instead, it's thick, heavy clay that was trucked in for some indecipherable reason. When people try to dig it (unless it's soaked, an uncommon occurance), common tools used are (I kid you not) pick-axes & jackhammers. My strong husband dug down about two feet (with a shovel) before he planted the bulbs, mixed the soil with sand (to help it drain better) and soil conditioner, then put it all back in before he planted his bulbs. To see something actually come up is wildly exciting. We succeeded! Hopefully, more will follow.

If it seems like Papaya Daddy put a lot of effort into planting a handful of bulbs, you should have seen him set up our cold frame. After building it, he dug a hole, big enough to hold its area, and about 3 feet deep, in our backyard. Then he placed the cold frame in the hole so that it was angled towards the south and banked some of the extra soil around the sides & back to help maintain warmth. Then he got the soil ready. He drove down to the wash & filled our trunk with sand. We drove to Flagstaff & bought some fertilizer. He drove down to the local corral & filled our trunk with horse manure. We pulled out the leftover soil conditioner from the garage. Papaya Daddy mixed everything together with the leftover clay soil in an old plastic wading pool, then returned it to his 3-foot hole. Then he finally planted the seeds we had purchased - lettuce, arugala, and chard. After a week or so, beautiful little green shoots began to appear, and we felt flushed with success.

But do not forget that we are Black Thumbs. This past week, the one we spent away with my sister & family, we forgot to ask somebody to water our cold frame for us. Unfortunately, the lovely warm weather that worked such wonders for the mint, bulbs, and tumbleweed in our yard proved deadly for our poor cold frame plants. When we opened it up upon our return, we were greeted by the pathetic sight of brown soil. When we looked closely, we saw sad little wilted plants. It looks like a handful might have survived, and Papaya Daddy planted new seeds yesterday. But if you come visit us anytime in the next month, I hope you don't expect a fresh-picked salad.

I feel like I've rambled enough for one blog entry, so I think I'll sign off now. And maybe post news of my kids soon. They continue to do and say cute, hilarious, and sometimes completely exasperating things. Before I sign off, though, I'll conclude with a bemused rant that fits this entry's loose theme of growing things.

*I mentioned our yard being filled with nasty invasive species. The main offender is tumbleweed, also known as Russian Thistle (guess where it originated). It's one of the worst plants you could imagine - it completely takes over, it's covered with horrible, needle-sharp prickers that fall off everywhere and pierce your foot if you walk barefoot, and it keeps nice native species from growing. Which is why I was amazed to find this website and farm selling tumbleweed for high prices (especially to Japanese, it seems). What nerve! It's the equivalent of running a kudzu farm & export business in the southeast. The "farmers" actually live in a subdivision, and "harvest" their tumbleweeds by grazing fence lines, according to this article. I have to admit, though, that I admire them - it's entrepeneurship at its best. I wish I had the nerve to sell the tumbleweed around here for $15-$25 each, plus shipping. I'd be a rich woman!