A March Morning's Madness...

Dear Maria,

Now I know the fever has struck. At first light—well, to be honest, some minutes past so that I can see—out back I go to check the stuff planted by my hand. Yes, yes, I know each plant and each tree comes into leaf on its own schedule, but I can’t help but study them one by one for the first sign that this spring is unsprung. I squint. I let my focus go soft. I hold stems against my palm to search for the tiniest change, a hint of green or a dog ear where a leaf may soon appear.

My loropetalum bloom so far ahead of the others plants that I almost ignore how thick they are with flowers despite our cold and ice last month. No, each day I have to look for the slightest sign of new growth—several times a day. I study each shoot, each branch, all the while knowing the sequencing in my garden. Plum blossoms, which are opening, then roses will come, and then later lantana and plumbago and the crape myrtle will begin anew.

While transplanting so much earlier in the month, I was reminded of the varying soil quality across the yard where once a pool was planted. The rains last spring and early summer compressed the soft sand at the deep end so much that I am considering a load of topsoil or creating a small pond. Max would approve that decision most likely. I keep turning good, rich dirt in one area and then rocky soil in another. Of course, there is the sand pit that is subsiding slowly.

So, I made my choices plant by plant and each will thrive given my decisions and genetics and the weather.  A part of a plumbago broke off during transplanting, and rather than toss it onto a pile of limbs and let it go, I dug out a spot by hand over by the stump of the willow oak and now in the ground it sits. I study it awfully intently, and I think it shows signs of life.

I know what you are thinking. Funny, but no, I don’t take my reading glasses out into the garden with me. Yet.

Of course, over the years I have learned that unless I really make some bonehead decision—and it has certainly happened—most of the plants and trees will mostly survive just fine. Each to each, in its own time. The first knockout blooms are nearly ready, the pear out front needs another week or so, the new Rose-of-Sharon has its first green leaf. One elm is leafing out nicely, another not a single hint of green is showing.

I guess you saw that I had to make a few comments about applying the value-added-method to education on Facebook. Go ahead and laugh, but I keep vowing to say nothing more about education. Well, maybe after some words on charter schools.

Besides, parents and teachers quite naturally will know how to recast my thoughts about my garden’s children.

Be well, be patient, and all unfolds. Yours, srk

Daylight's Coming...

Dear Maria,

Good morning. I forgo the exclamation mark as most folks I know unlimbered pretty slowly this morning most likely. Even the hawks must have moved their clocks ahead as they are crying out before dawn. And now a crow’s complaint—perfect, not a songbird to be heard yet. Of course, I am up regardless. The powers that be can call it 4:15 or 5:15 as so moved.

You will laugh to know that I allowed my hackles to be raised a bit over a question about the new direction taken for the SAT. With the ease that comes from having no immediate vested interest in a subject, I launched into a dismissive comment on the test, a swipe at the ACT’s marketing and lobbying strategies—Pearson’s, too—and a diatribe on why Gates et al will be foiled because they can’t remake the population into the workforce they choose. That I should for even a moment become embroiled in such folderol. Foolish me.

I did take a look at the Bureau of Labor Statistics projections for job growth and part of their summary concludes that “Two-thirds of the 30 occupations with the largest projected employment increase from 2012 to 2022 typically do not require postsecondary education for entry”. No further comment from me on educational or economic planning. For now. And no comment on my reading choices from you, please.

Saturday I added three double-knockouts out back and a small Japanese maple—now there is some optimism, adding a slow-grower like that to the landscape. The greater excitement was the addition of a bird bath that both Max and the birds can drink from at their ease. A plump robin gave itself a rousing splash-about without so much as a second glance from Max. Good boy.

Just after I settled the new additions into the garden, my neighbor Frank insisted on the two of us spending about half an hour mending the fence, a forty-year-old wooden specimen that he wants to be always leveled and with nary a board out of place.   As we finished up, he duly noted two boards badly bowed along a stretch between my yard and another neighbor. I did confess my awareness of the two miscreants. All in due Daylight Savings Time.

Last week reads included Quesadillas by Juan Pablo Villalobos—see not all BLS documents on the reading list.

Have a lovely week. 

Yours, of course, srk

Lent, EOCs, and Action!

Dear Maria,

A soggy and cold Ash Wednesday, and for the next few days not much will happen yard-wise, but tulip trees and cherry trees are flowering here and there around town—spring will come.

The last two days I have shared meals with former crew members that sailed with me here locally. I owned up to browsing through boat ads again—to take the plunge a third time, well that remains to be seen. Plunge, that is probably more awful than clever. Decisions to be made.

I have lamented, and have done so several times and not just in the last few days, that I see plenty of ills in the world but seem unable to come up with any actionable ideas. Of course, I have much time now to not only read articles but to also hunt down—or just click on the links provided—and read the research or original reports that are using the basis for their arguments, or at least their reporting.

I happened to be checking on whether the state followed through on taking over schools that were poor performers for five consecutive years, and in doing so was struck by the superintendent saying it wouldn't be worth the effort because no plan would be effective. A state education board member called for either radical plans or to forget intervention because the same ills have been noted for 20 years.

Poking around online, I found a high school about an hour from here that did not have a single student make an A on any of the state generated End-of-Course Tests in 2013, and 96% of the students scored a D or an F on the American History EOC. Of course, I see that result as disheartening, but I haven’t a clue how to address the issues of the course, the students, the school, or the community.

Common Core is no radical rethinking of schooling, nor can I see how that curriculum will change the results in historically underperforming district or schools. But, no, I don’t have an alternative to offer up.

Other than standing at the elbow of a student and providing some guidance on a piece of writing or maybe discussing options for his or her future, not a single idea comes to my mind that might be pursued and might result in some systemic improvement. Not one actionable idea.

Of course, the notion of giving up caffeine or chocolate or Downton Abbey for many this season is an actionable idea. Could go with—as others have suggested—being kinder, more generous, or more patient. But, how to measure….

Keep warm, keep dry, at least for a few more days. The weekend ahead may be grand.

As ever, just

srk

Stoics, Hacks, Plumbago, and Time...

Dear Maria,

Hey— Wow! Just now an extraordinarily beautiful bluebird landed in the white oak near the back fence. Against this gray sky, well an Audubon could well try to match the color. Do I get bonus points for not using the phrase super pretty? Commence eye-rolling.

Went ahead and moved a young plum tree and one of the knockouts—and a lantana. Also took five plumbago plants out of the ground to be replanted soon, but where I have no idea. Sort of set out how the deck might go. Have a very simple plan in mind, so don’t conjure up some vision of redwood pergolas and multi-level flooring.

Told my mother that even as I do this work, I fully expect the next owner of this house to bulldoze away the garden and chop down the trees. She is appalled at the notion, but I merely shrug.

Had to chuckle a bit the other day when a link I posted to Kaple’s Corner on Facebook generated one the highest number of hits ever—even more than those on parenting. The heart of the article was Stoicism, but cleverly the writer, or editor perhaps, billed the piece under the term life hacks. Guess, there is no notice to be given to “Stoic Thinking”. Life hacks—of course, I think I can hack life even as some of what goes on hacks me.

While I was taking a break from the shovel, my neighbor Frank—we share about 60 feet of fence—was picking up limbs and asked me again about being retired. And, again, we revisited how I chose to go after 28 years with 2 still on my certificate. Then he asked the question: Did I TERI? I decided to keep my standard reply in my head this time. No, I chose not to linger.

Frank, who retired from the State Ports Authority, chided me for not taking advantage of the program and accumulating retirement funds in an escrow account while still working. For him, the winning number in the discussion was the $200,000 he banked.

So, I asked, “Did you spend it?”

“No, but I have it if I need it.”

“Well, I’m getting along okay.”

“Oh, now I don’t know anything about your situation, but you should’ve taken the deal.”

Guess I didn’t hack retirement planning very well. But, the day was glorious and the gardening muscles were for that day forgiving and my hawk—my hawk, now that is preposterous—loudly let the world know he was about. Inside, my desk was without a stack of papers to grade, and I haven’t held a red pen in 9 months. 

Priceless. Of course, I don’t know anything about another’s situation. Hope you take some time to relax this weekend. Feed the cat, walk the dog, hug the children.

Hacking along, srk