twistedweeds – Twisted Weeds

Government cuts affecting your garden and farm

These are not the weeding or harvesting kinda cuts – cuts that would help. They are cuts that have “disappeared” more than just people; these cuts have disappeared: grants for regenerative farming, weather forecasting and alerts (NOAA and the National Weather Service), internships at school garden projects, SNAP benefits, food banks, food surpluses to local food banks, the USDA’s research into ways to mediate climate change; citizens and undocumented alike from farms, restaurants, food processing facilities, grocery stores, markets, and even schools; and entire business models that relied on sales to support USAID.

All gone. Much more than people of color has been disappeared.

How many other ways can we hurt our own people, not to mention millions of people around the world? A better question – how can we help others?

Growing your own food is a good way to start, and you can use your own experiences to help others do the same. Many of us already include our children and grandchildren in our gardens. I have written three books, two published and a third on its way to being published. Look for gardening books under my pen name, Terra Bloom, on amazon. My way to share.

Support your local farmers. A CSA share is a great place to start. You sign up for a season’s worth of produce, pay in advance, and get a share of the harvest every week. Most importantly in these crazy times, you share in your farmer’s success as well as hardships.

Your money is a bit of an insurance policy against the fickleness of government cutbacks, weather emergencies, and crop failures due to normal reasons as well. Another way to support farmers is by purchasing from you-pick farms and visiting farmers markets. And it’s absolutely brilliant to be able to put a name, a face, and a place to where your food is grown.

On a larger scale, write or visit your Congressmen and women when agricultural issues are in the news. Help keep them informed and aware that people care about what affects our food supply and the welfare of farmers and farm workers.

Summer in the Maritime Pacific Northwest

It’s 8 a.m. on July 5th, 2025. There is a myth/tradition that this is our first day of summer, lagging behind the rest of the world because…well…it often just turns out that way. Junes can be cloudy, cool, and wet oftentimes.

I don’t like to dwell on the negative. But…this morning my thermometer reads 50 degrees and it is cloudy. As of late, afternoons have been sunny and pleasant…up to the low 60s. Fine. I can hear all you heat wavers to the east rolling your eyes. Yes, I can hear that.

But bear with me just a little. If the rain and clouds and cool can sometimes return as soon as October…can I have just a little heat…please? I’m only asking for 70 degrees because I’m a heat wimp. More than that and I’ll start whining again.

Ok, I’ll probably start losing readers now that they realize how much of my whining they’ll have to listen to in the course of a year. (Do I even have any readers?). I’ll leave you alone now while I go find a sweater. And my fingerless gloves because my hands are cold.

In other news, I’m in the middle of a 6-day vacation. My other half went on vacation, not me, but I am still looking over my shoulder constantly to see if he is watching me be a bad girl…leaving dirty dishes in the sink until I feel like washing them or putting them in the dishwasher…leaving unfolded laundry on the guest bed for days…watering his flowers (and the lawn) with a sprinkler that I leave on for 4 hours at a time (this way it won’t need water again until he’s gone for 4 hours (maybe once a month). If the sprinkler hits the side of the house, the windows get washed a little too.

He insists on watering with a watering can or by walking around dragging a hose and, you know, holding the sprinkler attachment down. I check after he waters and usually the soil is wet to about 1/4″. He does it almost every day; still only 1/4″. I drag the hose, set the sprinkler, and go watch a baseball game on tv. Or my favorite binge-worthy show. Maybe while eating popcorn.

Every time I see the cat coming down the stairs out of the corner of my eye, I jump a little, thinking it’s The Man coming to judge me. Sigh…6 days isn’t long enough to stop being edgy. I’ll have to work on that. Meanwhile, I feel like a teenager home alone…basking in staying in my pajamas all day and doing whatever I want…

Meanwhile, everything outside is enjoying the cool weather and my sprinkler. The birds are bathing, the grass is greening back up, my tiny garden is thankful for the surprise deep watering. As it is mostly Mediterranean herbs, and potatoes, this year, normally they go through the summer drought just fine. One last soak will keep them smiling.

Digging deeper…

Wars…genocide…imperialistic hubris…deportations…assassinations…

So much intentional cruelty in the world these days. Many days it feels as if we humans have dug ourselves into a deep, dark hole. I look out my window and the sky is grey. The temperature is about 10 degrees cooler than average for the end of June. Compare that to the 20 degrees above normal we had the beginning of May. We’re riding a climatic rollercoaster as well as a political one.

I spend a lot of time dreaming, both night and day. Today I had a revelation. Years ago I visited Olympic National Park here in Washington state and gazed upon a Douglas Fir tree estimated to be 1000 years old. I imagined myself being there again…experiencing the essence of that tree. In comparison, I realized I have just been born.

Like a child in the womb, I have felt the darkness before I ever experienced the light. I heard sounds, softly muffled by my mother’s body. Her heartbeat familiar, steady and reassuring. Her voice and breathing a whisper; her blood coursing through my own tiny body.

Then I felt my world contracting, slowly pushing me outward, towards the light. I don’t know if I cried as I exited all I had ever known, into a seemingly boundless unknown. But I imagine that I was quickly swaddled and placed in my mother’s arms. I heard her voice again, louder than before; I still heard her heartbeat.

I was home. I am always home. Everything expands, including the universe as a whole. Life recycles.

Today I struggle to get back to that birthplace. The earth reminds me. My garden reminds me. Nothing is ever lost or left completely behind. The garden and the seasons remind me that everything dies but is reborn into another form. Seeds scattered by the wind, far from the mother plant, know what to do, know who to be.

I picture myself today, born anew. Bare feet touching the earth. I hear her voice, her heartbeat. I eat from my garden’s bounty and feel her blood in my veins. I feel her caress me in the wind.

I find courage to venture forth knowing that I can add life to life. Coming out of the darkness, I can witness and embrace the dawn. I can nourish the earth that nourishes me. I can hope, and believe.

Summer rain

A while back…waay back in early May…we had unseasonably hot weather, here on this lovely island in WA. state. 83 degrees plus a bit of humidity? Unheard of…

Since then, no rain, until two nights ago. Cloudy yesterday, today just a little sun. It looks like the clouds are gonna win.

While cloud gazing, I discovered a guest.

The garden is appreciating the days of moisture; the soil is not drying out. My sad attempt at growing wildflowers: I didn’t remember they should be planted in the fall, I was so excited. Then the birds kept digging in the soil…so few survived until they finally had a place to be transplanted to.

Sad…

But there is so much happiness elsewhere, since the rain. The lavender!

The apples!

The elderberries! Which of course the birds are eating before they get any size to them.

And the mystery yellow-flowered bush ninja plant. Which I will now try to identify.

I do believe this is Santolina rosmarinifolia. It is described as a culinary plant, used in Mediterranean dishes, commonly known as the olive herb because it lends an olive-like flavor to food. Hmm, I will have to try it.

But back to the raccoon in the tree. When I approached the tree, he climbed higher. When I went inside, he came down and then up the next tree, then wash, rinse, repeat…He seemed to be heading in an easterly direction. I think he wished he was a squirrel, able to jump from tree to tree.

We watched him for about 15 minutes, during which time our cat begged us to subscribe to this Cat Channel. I would if I could, Echo.

But ultimately, coons are not garden-friendly, so we won’t be asking him to stay.

Garden mayhem in all its beauty

Here in Twisted Weeds chaotic garden, we aim to work less and enjoy more. This doesn’t mean that we haven’t worked hard in the past, but as we age we aim to hardly work at all. The mighty husband built fences, then we planted hazelnuts and dwarf apples, disturbing the existing plants as little as possible (such as ferns), with the exception of stinging nettles. I harvested them and steeped them in buckets of water, using the tea as fertilizer.

My husband planted roses. I knocked down a ridiculously steep mound (left after the area was originally logged) and turned it into an herb bed after adding some unfinished compost. I planted rosemary (king of the hill), lavender, comfrey, oregano, sage and thyme (they eventually disappeared under the rosemary, lavender, and oregano), and an unknown flowering plant that I bought in a 4-inch pot because it seemed like it would grow anywhere.

I planted this mystery under a tree in the middle of our driveway but quickly realized it needed more sun so I transplanted it at the edge of the herb bed. Oh my…it has become a woody shrub. As soon as it flowers, I’ll try to identify it. Meanwhile I chop and drop around the edges, trying to keep it from devouring the narrow path and everything else it encounters…

There are also a few berry bushes in this chaos, as well as an elderberry and a couple of attempts at raised beds. So far only potatoes have withstood the rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, and birds. I shall continue to try…but not too hard.

It is definitely the survival of the fittest in this messy but beautiful place.

Don’t even ask what is all there…oregano everywhere, weeds too. Volunteer potatoes. I love it all and it returns the favor.

We belong to the earth

That simple sentence has had me thinking for days about my place on this planet, about humanity’s place as a whole, and about how to change that. Different species co-exist in my yard, while eating and digging up much of what I try to grow. While the rest of the population eats and drinks together, taking turns when necessary, I enter the scene and they all flee.

I am trying to gradually change that, by sitting in my yard and minding my own business. But this situation is bigger than just me. I firmly believe that humanity may be ensuring its own demise by mishandling this beautiful planet that normally sustains us. Tornados, hurricanes, wildfires, floods, heat waves, extinctions and rising ocean temperatures all seem to be signaling that we are an infectious disease the planet is trying to fight off with everything it has.

Still we insist on clearcutting forests, throwing our garbage into the oceans, destroying topsoil, polluting the air, and paving paradise. We have separated ourselves from nature and declared that we have dominion over it.

This has changed my perspective as a sometimes gardener. I am older, slower, weaker, and have less stamina than in the past. I am on a fixed income/tight budget. Meanwhile the critters are multiplying; more bunnies, squirrels, deer, and birds – all destructive to a garden, to some degree. This affects me in relation to them, and to my garden.

I nurture what survives the onslaught of diggers, eaters, and those who like to nap on seedlings. Potatoes do well. I like to nap in the sun; so I pull my chair close to a bird feeder and to seed scattered on the ground. Slowly some of the critters adapt to my presence and aren’t scared away so easily. I enjoy watching the birds mating, the fawns kicking up their heels, the squirrels chasing each other up and down the tall fir trees, spiraling; and the bunnies munching oh so fast.

In my garden, I chop and drop weeds, mulching as I go. I scatter seeds everywhere, trusting that some will germinate. I spend time just watching the bees and other pollinators. I water deeply. I harvest herbs. I spend more time watching and learning, breathing in synch with it all.

I want so much to belong to this world.

When it’s too hot to garden, tend to your houseplants

I go outside early in the morning and tend to whatever needs water to make it through a few hot afternoon hours. Around 1pm, I return to the garden to harvest herbs. For the rest of the day, I do some computer work, read, and do some housekeeping, which today led me to my neglected houseplants.

I have a confession to make. Most of these plants I don’t know or soon forget what they actually are, they are chosen for how they look. Today I actually researched all their names and their light and water requirements. Most were doing fine but a couple were struggling.

“Fern” is actually “Fluffy Ruffles fern”. What a cute name.

This one needs a more uniform watering schedule and more humidity, I think. Added to my calendar – check it twice a week, during the summer.

Next is the aloe vera – a challenge because it is getting pretty big and needs bright sun, as does one other large plant. I have waffled between watering it too much and too little. I learned today to water only when it is completely dry; when in doubt, wait a couple days. So testing by inserting a finger and getting lots of dirt under my fingernail. I moved it outside on a south-facing deck that gets only a few hours of direct sun a day, at this point. Lots of dappled light.

Then there’s the mystery cactus; it’s not a Christmas or an Easter or a Thanksgiving cactus because it flowers whenever it feels like it. Sometimes as soon as the previous blooms have dried up and fallen off. Go figure. So I will check it every 10 days to see if it needs water, using the same dirty finger method as the aloe.

The plant I previously called “Ivy” I now know as “Heartleaf Philodendron”. Basically I water it when the leaves get droopy or start losing color. Now I will treat it like Mystery Cactus. That was easy.

Last but not least, another Mystery that my husband bought me, that was looking sad until I watered it and moved it to a south-facing window. Imagine that…water matters. Today I bothered to look it up and behold, it’s a Fiddle Leaf Fig. I found a website with a calculator that told me how much water I should give it and how often, based on whether it got direct sun and how big the pot is. So it’s 2.5 cups of water every 9 days, since it does get some direct sun and is in a 9″ pot. I am going to gradually move it outside onto the deck because I don’t like letting the sun warm up the room (my bedroom) this time of year.

I promise to do this again, once the nights are cool enough that I need to bring the outside plants back in, to recalibrate water requirements.

Most of my gardening life, I’ve been a chaotic mess. I didn’t offer advice to anyone except in the form of questions, like “have you ever tried this?” or “maybe that would work?” Now that I have decades of experience but a terrible memory especially when it comes to numbers, my advice is usually in the form of “I think I used to…” or “look what I learned today!”

This is why I write. Holding on to memories, and sharing them along with my mistakes so others can feel less intimidated. Most of all, have fun!

Illness: when chaos, birds, and deer run the show

I’ve been sick and slowly recovering for at least two weeks…I think…who counts things when they’re sick? We probably all know at least one person who would…but I digress. The upside…I found out the wonders of probiotics. Once I identified my digestive issues, 35 billion little probiotic buddies came to my rescue. That much I’m happy to count.

Half of my seedlings died (along with me…I swear it felt that way) due to lack of water; the other half were assaulted by little food-seeking birds scratching. Once it started raining, there were the birds. It rained for days. The grass that hasn’t been mowed grew about two feet. The bunnies have awakened. I’m so far behind the critters now.

The bird that was nesting in my husband’s rubber shoes sitting on the shoe shelf next to the front door has hatched out her young and they are gone. It was fun to watch. She started building a nest in each of four shoes on the shelf before she finally decided on the first one. Don’t question the nesting habits of a pregnant female…

Yesterday evening just as it was getting dark…the days are so much longer now, it was around 9pm…a doe showed up with a newborn fawn. The day had been stormy…windy all day, raining off and on, sometimes quite heavily…and the weather was no different as it darkened. Enter a tiny fawn, hardly able to walk, shaky little legs. It was seeking refuge under the seat of our picnic table. Crouched, not lying down, under the seat, not the table itself.

It’s mother was nearby, licking it, obviously trying to coax it to a safer place, but the fawn didn’t want to leave. It finally did, though, wobbling off. Forgetting my own shakiness and weakness after not eating much for a couple weeks, I sent that little one all my love, trying to imagine how it felt to emerge from quiet, warmth and security into a tempestuous world. I wish you, little one, and all those without shelter, a place to lay your head and gather strength.

I hope to see that little one soon, leaping with joy in this green place where deer find solace.

Happy Mother’s Day

I had my two sons relatively close together. Since I breast fed them both…first one, then the other 17 months later…the nursing years seemed to stretch on forever. I call them “the lost years.” Not because I didn’t love them over the moon and back, but because by the time the younger one was…maybe three?…I realized I started slowly having more than 15 minutes at a time to myself. These mere minutes I like to call “time on my hands.”

What does one do with this time? I don’t have to change a diaper, nurse, bathe them, fix a meal, fix their skinned knees, wash clothes, entertain them (short attention spans means extra work), clean up after them…so then what?

I rediscovered my knitting needles and yarn stash. I’d been knitting since I was a pre-teen but had forgotten that “I used to do this.” I started a small garden…then a bigger one…but it wasn’t until those two babies were in high school that I started writing again. I volunteered in my community, eventually starting up a community center with the help of so many others. I started a farmer’s market. I started freelance writing and a friend and I started a knitting business.

Now I’m 75 and writing, knitting, and gardening still. My sons have had kids of their own, so I don’t need to call them up at 2:30 am to tell them I need to pee (a sort of revenge I thought of but never actually did.) I look at an occasional photo of them growing up and nostalgia creeps in. Their kids are growing up, some are adults. I think about how I loved being pregnant.

And now the wheel is turning. I think about reincarnation. Assuming I don’t reincarnate as a fruit fly or a cucumber…I dream of giving birth all over again. Some idyllic place with a loving partner and a tribe of monkey-children, wild and free, experiencing life with every part of their being.

~~~Adapted from the song “Pass It On” by Bunny Wailer~~~

“Be not selfish in your doings

Pass it on

Help your children in their needs

Pass it on

Live for yourself, you’re gonna live in vain

Live for others, you will live again.”

Bless the Mothers.

Companion planting

This spring, I’m chaos companion planting in a new raised bed. I planted peas, sweet peas, and wildflower seeds in a bed that was ready, hügelkultur-style, with small branches, unfinished compost, and…no watering system except a small watering can and …no protection from rabbits and squirrels. Yes, the area is fenced, but the ground is somewhat uneven and there are gaps…like, under the gate. Even the squirrels don’t need to climb, they scamper easily right under the gate.

Now I am able to keep the soil surface watered, but still I occasionally see signs of digging. Today I go scavenging around and in sheds to see if I can find some way of protecting the bed. A small piece of chicken wire would do the trick, laid on top of the bed. A larger piece, I could make a semblance of a fence…

I’m gardening on no budget and with all the strength a 75-year old woman can muster…

So even if only a few plants survive I will count it as a success.

I’ve already done a “second planting”…mixing all the veggie and flower seeds left over from years of seed purchasing and scattering them over the surface. More chaos!

What if nothing much grows? Well, the volunteer potato plant will thrive…and the four pea plants seem to be surviving! …so that’s something! I will cover the bare spots with grass clippings. In the fall I will add more compost, maybe some bagged soil, purchase a NW wildflower seed mix and scatter that…

I’ll just keep making the soil better and trying again.

Meanwhile, I’ve written another book about a more deliberate, scientific method of companion planting and am offering it as a free ebook through this Sunday, May 11th. Help yourself to a free copy!