Warming Up For Spring

Posted on April 5, 2021 by Ann Lovejoy
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Sheep pretending to be Easter eggs (the farmer says that the dyes are harmless)

When Gardening Is A Pain

This weekend, I joyfully took possession of a new-to-me P-Patch, a modest plot in a community garden just a few blocks from my home. A recent reorganization of the garden to a more collaborative, cooperative model opened up over a dozen beds to new people, including me. My plot of about 200 square feet had been badly compressed by piles of building materials, so I spent a few happy hours going over the soil with a garden fork, gently loosening the soil without turning it over. Like tilling, turning the soil releases stored carbon and brings nutrients to the surface inches, where they are quickly devoured by plant roots, leaving soil depleted. Opening the soil loosens it without the havoc of tilling, preparing a more hospitable environment for plants and soil dwellers, from worms to friendly fungi and bacteria.

My fork work exposed a handful of small potatoes and a dearth of worms. Obviously, the soil can use some feeding before anything gets planted, so I hauled and spread ten barrowloads of compost, which amounted to a layer several inches deep overall. Raked smooth, it made a temptingly tidy bed, but the last few weeks have been drier than usual and the soil was barely moist. Careful watering left the compost crumbly and receptive, drawing curious birds to investigate. Now all I need is plants, and somewhat warmer night time temperatures. However, another result of all this carefree labor is that I’ve been more muscle sore than expected. The restrictions of this past year definitely put a crimp in my activity level, and though I’ve walked most days and gardened weekly, I’m clearly not in my best shape ever.

Be Prepared

After the sunny, mild weekend, a number of my friends are similarly afflicted with self-induced strains and pains. Hearing these distressful tales, I’m reminded that the wise gardener does some stretching and warm ups before starting a vigorous gardening project. Next time I garden, so will I. Fortunately, a friend gave me a comforting cbd salve for sore muscles, which is also awesome for arthritic hands. As I continue to mature (at least technically), I find that arnica gel isn’t quite as effective for arthritic joints as topical cannabis lotions and potions.

Sadly, the days when I could garden for hours at a stretch without uncomfortable consequences are long gone. I’m also not as strong as I was a decade or two ago, nor as sure-footed on ladders or when climbing up in trees. These days, I have to pace myself, remembering my changing abilities and limitations. That’s not a very pleasant realization, but accepting reality turns out to be less painful than denying it. I’m fairly fond of denial, at least at times-I always remember a favorite counselor saying “Denial is an underrated coping skill.” Still, there are times when realism is the path that gets us no-longer-young people where we want to go.

Tai Chi In The Garden

Over the years, tai chi has played an important part in my life, and it’s been especially helpful during recurring bouts of vertigo. Tai chi is an excellent practice for gardeners, as it’s all about balance, pacing and a realistic understanding of what your own body is inclined or able to do on a given day. Walking attentively, dropping the center of balance, keeping the lower back open, all help stiffening backs and knees. Whether we’re bending and stooping or kneeling or crouching awkwardly, any such stretching and balancing exercises will stand us in good stead.

Sitting (which most of us do far too much of) compacts the spine and causes a lot of lower back issues. Standing around (usually mainly on one foot) isn’t much better, but tai chi offers a useful move well known to pregnant women; the Pelvic Tilt. It’s a little forward tuck of the tailbone that involves the abs and core muscles in a small adjustment that shifts weight downward to the lower belly, dividing it evenly between both feet and making our stance more stable.

Simple Warm-Ups For Gardeners

My best advice might be, don’t try to make up for a winter of neglect in one day. Divide projects into small parts, change tasks every 10-15 minutes, and always start by warming up your neck, shoulders, arms, and hands. It only takes about ten minutes and the results are rewarding. Begin with 8 neck rotations (the magic tai chi number), avoiding the backward position: Drop your right ear toward the right shoulder, letting the shoulder slope away earthward. Roll your chin to your chest, then repeat to the left. Return your chin to your chest between each side, but don’t roll your head backward, which can strain neck muscles.

Next, circle both shoulders 8 times, forwards and backwards. Raise your arms and rotate them at shoulder height 8 times in each directions. With arms at your sides, lightly clench your hands and circle your wrists 8 times forwards and backwards, then squeeze and release your hands 8 times. Shake out your hands lightly; they should tingle just a bit. To loosen the waist, do 8 hip circles forwards and backwards (like using a hula hoop). Shake out each leg for a few seconds and jump almost-but-not-quite off the ground on both feet together 8 times. End up by shaking out your hands and arms again for a few seconds. Now you should feel brisk and warm, with all joints loosened up and ready for action.

Aftermath

To prevent soreness after working, stretch your arms skyward, then do some hip rolls and pelvic tilts, gently rocking the spine forward and backward. If your back feels tight, lie down on a yoga mat or rug and press the small of your back to the floor, holding through five full breaths before releasing. Do that gently a few times and then take five minutes to reverse the blood flow to your legs; relax against a wall with your feet up, heels pointing toward the ceiling, and your legs supported by the wall. Onward!

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Know Your Neighbors

Posted on March 29, 2021 by Ann Lovejoy
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Mother of Thousands makes herself at home in damp shade

Recognizing Native Plants In Youth

The coastal Pacific Northwest is home to a treasure trove of plants, from tremendous firs and cedars to Bear Grass and Paintbrush. Though much of the coast has been developed over the past 150 years or so, the soil remembers when dense forest stretched from Alaska into Northern California. Disturb the soil in your garden and you’ll get weeds, for sure, but almost as certainly you’ll find seedlings of a wide range of native plants, from annuals, perennials and shrubs to those towering trees. Before yanking up unknown volunteers, take time to familiarize yourself with some of the most attractive natives in their youthful forms.

One good way to do this is to visit local nurseries. Many independent nurseries carry garden worthy natives, especially as gardeners’ interest in supporting native birds and pollinators increases. Naturally enough, native critters prefer native plants, though many are quite happy to move on to visit imported bloomers when the native flowers are spent. Fortunately, natives can coexist easily with other plants as long as they all enjoy the same conditions and care. Where native plants are sold in small pots, you can learn to recognize their form and foliage as youngsters. When you bring a few back home, you may discover that what you thought were weeds were in fact hopeful seedlings of handsome natives that will be very welcome in your garden.

The Native Returns

In regions that were forested for millennia, many of the returning natives will be shade lovers. Indeed, after sheets of ivy are removed from woodland areas, it’s quite common to find colonies of long-suppressed natives returning to their traditional homes. I recently visited a woodland garden where the well-meaning gardener was upset by persistent “weeds” which he was removing to make way for ground covers. It turned out that many of the “weeds” were Saxifrage cousins, native kin to coral bells (Heuchera). It took a lesson from the pages of Plants Of The Pacific Northwest Coast (by Pojar and MacKinnon) to convince my friend that he was ripping out hundreds of dollars worth of native ground covers that are every bit as lovely as the ones he wanted to plant.

Ironically, he had actually bought starts of some of the very plants he was uprooting, not recognizing them as younger version of his chosen replacements. Among these were a similar looking trio of perennials often called the Three T’s of the Northwest (Tolmeia, Tellima, and Tiarella). Tolmeia menziesii, aka Piggy-back Plant, may be better known to many people as a houseplant. It’s also called Mother Of Thousands for its habit of producing tiny plantlets at the base of older leaves. These babies will produce roots and transplant themselves as the fading foliage falls to the earth. The heart-shaped, palmate leaves are softly hairy, as are the stems decked with small chocolate colored flowers. Tolmeia is very apt to appear in damp shade, tucking its evergreen clumps comfortably between other plants.

Fringecup & Tiara Plant

Equally robust, Fringecup, or Tellima grandiflora also has hairy, heart-shaped leaves and flower stalks, but its flowers are larger, showing their relationship to coral bells (Heuchera). Pale green or rosy, the little bell blossoms are deliciously fragrant and quite long lasting in little desktop bouquets (and May baskets!). When well suited, Fringecups put on a significant floral display from mid spring into summer and the semi-evergreen foliage holds its looks well into autumn. Fringecup is one of my favorite “fillers” for informal woodland beds and borders, making attractive clumps under and between Oregon Grape, huckleberries, and rhododendrons. It’s also a good companion for snowdrops, snowflakes, and other spring bulbs, spreading its rounded skirts as the bulb foliage fades.

Fringecup

As the name implies, Tiarella trifoliata, or Foamflower, has divided leaves that come in threes, causing my friend to think it might be poison ivy. (“Leaves of three, let it be”, right?) As it happens, quite a few plants with leaves of three won’t cause your skin to break out, and Tiarella is among them. More delicate than its cousins, Foamflower produces clouds of tiny white flowers that sparkle in shady settings. A hardy perennial, it pops up in moist shady places, much to the delight of native bees and butterflies.

Inside-Out Flower

Though not related to the other three, another excellent native was among the uninvited guests in my friend’s garden. Inside-Out Flower (Vancouveria hexandra) is a charming, delicate looking perennial ground cover with sprays of tender green leaflets and wiry, arching stems tipped with bobbing white flowers like tiny birds on a wire. These are deeply reflexed, with petals bending backwards like shooting stars. Totally deciduous, the dainty leaves appear in late winter, making carpets of fresh, light green. A happy healthy plant, Vancouveria spreads companionably (never aggressively) between shrubs and larger perennials such as hellebores. It moves most quickly in damp soils but more slowly in summer-dry situations and transplants very easily.

By the time we sorted out which plants were actually weeds (notably ivy, holly, shotweed and stinky Bob) and which were little treasures, my friend had accumulated a pile of pictures on his phone for future reference. This is a great way to learn to recognize our native neighbors so we can appreciate them instead of ripping them up. It’s also a good way to make sure that we don’t hoe up clumps of seedlings that we carefully sowed last autumn; always plant a few in a small labeled pot and leave it where you scattered seeds. When they start coming up, take pictures every week or so at first, then every month to record the various stages they pass through on their way to maturity. Onward, right?

Vancouveria

 

 

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Why Anemones Will Always Win My Heart

Posted on March 22, 2021 by Ann Lovejoy
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This simple form attracts me because I’m biased.
In a good way.

Thoughts On Bias

The other day, someone asked me about a coppery red, spotty evergreen shrub, was there something wrong with it? I made a face and said “No, it’s a Photinia that doesn’t like the maritime Northwest, they color up and get those spots every winter up here. I HATE those things!” She said the plant looked weird, that color jut looked wrong in the spring when everything else is fresh looking. I agreed; I’ve always thought that if Photinia x fraserii turned those bronzy colors in autumn, I’d probably love it. But I was also interested to note that we were both revealing our biases about what looked “normal” and what looked “weird.” Bias is often hidden and can work both for and against: For years, I disliked variegated plants because they looked diseased to my eyes (and indeed, some of them are). On the other hand, I instantly adore any flower with that classic anemone form, from hellebores and pasque flowers to clematis and aconites.

Recently we’ve all had many opportunities to notice how biased our culture can be about people as well as plants, whether it’s expressed as racism or instant unconscious acceptance of people who look like us. Many researchers have pointed out that it’s far easier to recognize other people’s biases than our own. Lately I’ve been studying bias as a topic for the Inclusion Study Group of the Senior Community Center. Our next conversation will be about bias, and here’s what I’ve learned: Everyone is biased.

Yup. Here’s How It Works

Implicit Biases are biases taught directly and/or indirectly through our lifetimes through parents, teachers, neighbors, friends, advertising, media, etc. The term “implicit bias” explains how our attitudes towards people or stereotypes we associate with them were formed without our conscious knowledge. Bias ‘Blind Spots’ are places where we can see bias operating in others but can’t see it in ourselves and our own worldview. To sum it up, “Everyone thinks they are less biased than their peers.” This article on blind spots made me chuckle, then made me think again.
https://www.cmu.edu/news/stories/archives/2015/june/bias-blind-spot.html

Want to explore your bias? Check out these interactive tests:
https://implicit.harvard.edu/implicit/selectatest.html

Who Knew?

The first test I took reveals how we feel about old people and younger people. The results suggested that I am strongly biased towards young people. I didn’t think so, but now that it’s been called out, I’m noticing that I do feel especially friendly when I see young people out and about. I asked my daughter what she thought and she said that, in her experience, I have always had special warmth for young people, more than most of her friends’ moms. Huh. Who knew indeed?

The second test indicated that I have a slight preference for dark skinned people over light skinned people, and the third, that I have a moderate preference for gay people over straight people. Again, I’m not so sure about that, but it’s certainly possible. Though I’ve been friends with gay and queer and BIPOC people since my highschool days, I’ve definitely done a lot more stretching since my daughter came out as transgender. The more I learn about how difficult life can be for anyone who is not straight and white, the more I am able to empathize and the more I want to help.

Confirmation Bias

Theologian Brian McLaren believes that confirmation bias is the most powerful, and works like this: “We all have filters, [such as] What do I already believe? Does this new idea or piece of information confirm what I already think? Does it fit in the frame I’ve already constructed? If so, I can accept it. If not, in all likelihood, I’m simply going to reject it as unreasonable and unbelievable, even though doing so is, well, unreasonable. I do this, not to be ignorant, but to be efficient. My brain (without my conscious awareness, and certainly without my permission) makes incredibly quick decisions as it evaluates incoming information or ideas. Ideas that fit in are easy and convenient to accept, and they give me pleasure because they confirm what I already think.

But ideas that don’t fit easily will require me to think, and think twice, and maybe even rethink some of my long-held assumptions. That kind of thinking is hard work. It requires a lot of time and energy. My brain has a lot going on, so it interprets hard work like this as pain…. Wanting to save me from that extra reframing work, my brain presses a “reject” or “delete” button when a new idea presents itself. “I’ll stick with my current frame, thank you very much,” it says. And it gives me a little jolt of pleasure to reward me for my efficiency.”

We Are Wired Like This

Rev. Dr. Jacqui Lewis says confirmation bias works like this: “We are all wired by what we’ve experienced to be in search of a story with an ending . . . that feels like it has a completion. And the stories that we gravitate to are the ones that make sense to us, stories that fit, stories that feel like they have continuity, connection to the past, where we’ve been. . . . Those stories that we will follow are the ones that feel true, feel like they have continuity to our past and that resonate with the trajectory of our lives. So, we’re looking for the story that doesn’t necessarily change our minds; we’re actually looking for the story that confirms what’s in our minds.”

As far as interactions with people, I’m definitely open to learning more about my own hidden assumptions and leanings. The deeper I dig, the less I feel fearful of what I might find out. After all, if we don’t look, we’ll never know (though I suppose we can always ask our friends…). As far as my interactions with plants, I’m pretty happy with my bias towards the simple, beautiful form of an anemone, or a buttercup, or a single rose. For one thing, bees and other pollinators love that form as well. But I don’t really need a “good” or logical reason, I love them and that’s reason enough. In fact, I’m off to the nursery now!

 

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A Cautious Sense Of Hope

Posted on March 15, 2021 by Ann Lovejoy
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Grateful faces wearing hand made masks

Mask On, Mask Off?

A few days ago, a (fully vaccinated) friend gave me hug, saying, “I’ve been wanting to do that for way too long!” Though we turned our faces away from each other, we leaned into the deep embrace as slow tears rolled down our cheeks. Even if you’re not a super huggy person by nature, the past year has taught us all how much loving human touch can contribute to emotional wellbeing (and how badly out of balance we’ve grown). With vaccination availability on the rise and more and more people qualifying, there’s a sense that a corner has been turned and we’re on our way out of the pandemic dark. The feeling is partly encouraged by improving news and weather, and even by Daylight Savings. When covid numbers are stable or even sinking, and it’s sunny and not freezing cold, it’s easier to feel optimistic about pretty much anything.

Many of my friends are already starting to gather in small, cautious groups, celebrating our new freedom. If the groups are meeting outside, I’m happy to take part, but I still feel wary; it’s not yet clear that vaccinated people are 100% safe or even safe to be around. Someone’s in the 5% of people the vaccines don’t help. Some evidence suggests that we might be asymptomatic carriers/spreaders. Is it safe not to be scared? Yesterday, I entered a friend’s home and, since we are both fully vaccinated and several weeks out, we decided that we could remove our masks. We looked at each other a bit nervously and Laura said, “You are the first person to be in my house without a mask on in a year.” I’ve been thinking about how we’ve taught ourselves to be afraid of human contact. As the country slowly opens up, it might be difficult for some of us to find our way back to the old norms.

Mask Making As Covid Craft

Personally, I plan to keep wearing masks even when the pandemic is past, at least in some situations. Our county posted zero flu cases this year, an unprecedented situation. Hardly any of us have had winter colds either, and in my family, seasonal allergy symptoms have been impressively reduced. I’ve even noticed a line of grime on my favorite gardening masks (which I wear when gardening in public places); dirt and pollen that get trapped before it gets past the mask nosepiece is dirt and pollen that isn’t going into my lungs. I’m partly influenced by having a luxurious number of masks in many colors and styles. Many have been made by my friend Laura, who has made “somewhere between 1,000 and 1,500” masks over the past year.

Pike Market Pig

Laura is an accomplished fiber artist who turned her skills to mask making when the pandemic was first declared. Early on, she made masks for local volunteers through a program at Bainbridge Artisan Resource Network (BARN). Next, a relative asked her to make masks for the Pike Place Market Foundation, a nonprofit that provides assisted living/low-income housing for seniors, as well as a food bank. Laura found some patterns, dug through her fabric stash and produced about 70 masks for food bank and office staff and others. Then she made about 150 more for a local YWCA. Then her sister in Green Bay Wisconsin asked for some for a women’s shelter and 50 more for her grandkids’ school classes. When the Yakima Valley was hard hit by the virus, she sent hundreds of masks for farm workers and their families.

Mask Maker Mask Maker Make Me A Mask

Bling And Zing

Pretty soon, all her friends were emptying out fabric stashes, looking for tightly woven cottons, good lining material, and fun fabric patterns for kids. We all handed over cloth and elastic and when Laura figured out that closure tabs for coffee bags make the best-fitting and longest-lasting moldable nose pieces, she bought a bag of 1,000 from a local coffee packaging company. (It definitely helps to live near Seattle.) Some of the most fun challenges were making festival bling masks for family and friends in New Orleans, as well as form fitting masks for the iconic Pike Market Pig and one of Bainbridge Island’s famous Frogs (though not Frog Rock).

New Orleans Bling Masks

Working several hours a day, Laura can make a batch of 70 masks in 2-3 weeks. Once the pandemic was in full swing, she felt pressure to do something helpful and she started sewing 4-6 hours a day, as well as knitting mask extenders. Now, she’s starting to wonder if she should back off a bit, as requests are slowing down. Does she foresee an end to the ubiquitous mask? “I can’t help but think mask wearing has come into the culture; some people will likely continue to wear masks in public, perhaps in stores,” she says. We may not achieve the casual acceptance mask wearing has gained in much as Asia, where pandemics have taught hard lessons, but Laura thinks, as I do, that not catching colds and flu presents a compelling reason to keep our masks around.

Recycling Masks Into Quilts

She does think the day will come when many people are ready to toss their masks, but she hopes at least some will come back her way. She has plans to recycle them into quilts, or pillows, or wall hangings, silently retelling the story of Our Year Of Masks. I’ve started shredding my oldest masks into the compost bin; they’re all made from natural fibers and full of protective energy to boot. Now I’m thinking about sewing some still-sturdy masks into a vest as pockets, keeping hankies and chapsticks safe from loss. Mask on, mask off, I think they’ll be with us for a long time to come.

Wear a mask so you don’t croak

 

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