During treatments, I was encouraged to live as normally as possible. Not that my life appeared normal from the outside looking in, but I tried. After all, normal is just a setting on your washing machine.
Sometime in March, after Claire returned to South Dakota, I mustered enough energy to start my seedlings. There wasn’t much hope that I would have the energy to do farmers market in the coming season. Since I had all the seeds and soil stashed in my old trunk, I did start my garden. Besides, someone would be willing to adopt my plants for their garden. Starting seedlings fell under my normal routine.
Growing seedlings required I retrofit my sun porch into a greenhouse. It’s the perfect area for plants. I have a lot of plants. Plants make me happy.
Once those seedlings formed real leaves, I kept them under lights on a shelf wrapped in plastic. Every evening, I would turn out the lights. Every morning, I would turn the lights back on. Watching them grow, praying for them to grow, and singing to them, was healing. Of course, my singing wasn’t up to par as my throat was still irritated. I might have been a little short of breath.
Eventually, the seedlings grew and multiplied to the point of taking over the porch. Multiply, you ask? Yep, rather than “weed” duplicate seedlings I transplant them to a new soil block. That’s how my 50 tomatoes become 100.
Once the weather warmed, I would move those plants to the outdoor greenhouse on the edge of our irrigation ditch.
This greenhouse is painted green and made with mostly recycled materials. The old houseboat had taken up space in the yard for a few years. I threatened to turn it into a chicken coop. I want some chickens.
Well, that idea was voted down. Then one day Sue Hoffman told me the beanery in downtown Mandan where we had been having winter markets was getting new windows. The old windows would have to be disposed of, so why not …
… why not build a greenhouse? YIPPEE.
The boat was lowered to the ground with the help of a friend and transformed into a lovely sunny room. The windows fit perfectly around the perimeter. At the west end was a partially enclosed area that became my potting shed.
Jim and Pat Wheeler, friends from church, were downsizing and gifted us with all kinds of gardening stuff — tools, pots, patio chairs, and a potting table.
My daughter had picked up a greenhouse furnace a year, or so, ago for free at a rummage sale. Imagine that. Free. It was so thoughtful of her.
The furnace was moved out of storage to the old houseboat/greenhouse. It was an electric heater and we had no electricity out there. So JC called the company and the owner assisted with retrofitting the furnace from electric to propane. This modification took place one month before the man closed up shop and retired.
Things were coming together nicely. JC built a table in the middle of the greenhouse with storage shelves. Someone gave us a very expensive compost bin for the price of removing it from their yard. The whole project was a gift from God.
My cousin (twice), Marion, had told me during those two weeks following the bell ringing to “get up off the couch.” She said it was the only thing that would get rid of the fatigue I was experiencing. So I did. Yes, I was still dragging myself around, but I slept better, and there was no greater joy than seeing those tiny seeds become sturdy transplants.
Oh, and because there’s so much more to 2023 that continues to weigh heavy on our hearts, I leave you with this humorous thought today.
Many of you have heard on my once-weekly radio program Main Street Eats, that I save my bath water to water my plants.
I love taking baking soda and Epsom salt soaks. The plants seem to love that water also. It has been one of my things, I hate to waste water, precious water.
One day while researching radio program ideas, I came across a recipe for watering your seedlings that imitated Miracle Grow. No, I don’t use that stuff. Apparently I didn’t need to buy fertilizer for my seedlings. The ingredients for this plant water recipe were — water, baking soda, Epsom salt and ammonia.
My only thought was, “Holy cow, I’m bathing in Miracle Grow, well almost.”
INDYchildrendotme 
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