Getting dirty in the garden

It's so sad to see my poor garden deteriorate, but that's just part of the seasons of life. The other day, my dad and I pulled the wilted tomato plants out of the dirt, harvested the onions, and got really dirty in the process.

First, we pulled out all of the dead plants, weeds, and saved the vegetables that we could still eat -- like the carrots, kale, brussels sprouts, and onions. My dad wanted to rototill the soil and get the ground ready for next spring, so we borrowed a Kuboda from one of our friends, and really turned that dirt over. 

Throughout the summer, we had been composting, so it was a perfect time to dump it for the season. We had a little trouble since the buckets were so dang heavy. We first tried to lift it with a chain wrapped around the plastic container and secured to the Kuboda. In the process, the container cracked. After a few different scenarios, we successfully got them lifted and carried to the garden -- hooray!

The only problem? The smell! Oh man, if my dad was almost gagging, you know it was bad. 

We also raked a bunch of leaves into the garden and rototilled those in. While he was on the Kuboda, I started pulling corn stalks and sunflowers out of the smaller garden. Some of the stalks came out pretty easy, and a few not so easy. I was hunched over pulling one out and out of nowhere collapsed with a sharp pain at the base of my spine. I took a break and stretched my back, but the pain was still there and had to brace myself every time I pulled a stalk. Not fun, but when  you have to get things done, you have to push through the pain.

We didn't thin out our carrots, so they are all pretty small, but edible.

My dad on the Kuboda, rototilling in all those leaves.

Dirty face, dirty hands, dirty clothes. I was getting grimy, but all for the love of my garden! Definitely don't need makeup when you're working like that.

So many dang leaves.

The dirt went right through my shoes.

Aged brown, but still beautiful.

Brussels Sprouts + Bowls of Spiders + Black Roses

Who likes brussels sprouts? OK, don't raise your hands all at the same time. I feel like green vegetables tend to get prematurely judged. Yes, brussels sprouts look like tiny cabbages, but just let me tell you, they are delicious (even ask my dad). This year, when we were picking out the plants to grow in our garden, I set my eye on a brussels sprouts plant, even though my parents had their doubts about if it would grow well.

So this week, we pulled those suckers out by their roots and started chopping off those round pieces of heaven one by one until we had a pot full. When you get them in the grocery stores (especially frozen) they tend to be bitter. I have more than once spit out a brussels sprout. But not these homegrown ones, they were perfection.

Brussels sprouts grow on a long stem. My dad and I had cut off all the leaves before this pic was taken.

Boil 'em, steam 'em, maybe even eat them raw.

Isn't this just a wonderful picture of the harvest moon? I'm not sure who shot this picture -- either my mom or dad -- but I couldn't help but share.

Back in the day, we decorated to scare all the kids who would trample through our haunted garage. Since then, we've toned it down a bit, made it classier I guess.

 Black rose, black dress, black heart. Hey, have you listened to the song "Black Roses" by the beautiful Clare Bowen (from one of my fav shows, Nashville)? If not, watch it. It's unbelievable.

Bowl full of spiders? Obviously!

 We've had this skeleton for yeeeeeeeears. His name is Mr. Bones. Maybe he shouldn't have played with that Ouija board. Am I right?

It's fall. Break out the hats!

Look at my precious Sadie. She always lays on the ground in front of this window, watching for my dad to come up the driveway.

Can you believe All Hallow's Eve is this weekend? Love it & can't wait.

Moonless, rainy night in the Pacific Northwest

The rain corralled me inside with it's varying droppage: mist to full-on downpour. Today, I had no obligations, so it didn't really bother me. I've always been the one elated by the precipitation, but I've never lived in a place with quite so much of it.

When they say it rains a lot in the Pacific Northwest, they weren't kidding. Every day as I walk to work, if it's not physically raining, there are indications of it. For example: The wet pine needles sticking to the soles of my shoes from a morning shower, or my damp hair, frizzed from a faint mist. 

By evening, I was a little restless from being cooped up all day. The darkness had invaded evening and as I took a peek outside, I wondered if I should venture out or just stay where I would be dry and safe. I decided to go, slipping on my boots, hat, and rain jacket. 

My house is nestled between trees and bushes, allowing little light to see at night. As I turned on the flashlight from my phone, I headed to the road that glistened with water. The walk to town meanders through a trail embedded between trees. This is the the section of the walk that frightens, but thrills me the most.

With Halloween just days away, spookiness lingers in the air. The cloudy sky hides the moon, and as I trekked through the wooded path, I instinctively looked behind me as if to find something following. 

No one followed, but the creepy feeling lingered, as the wind blew hard, almost whipping the hat off my head. This walk in the dark by myself was a feeling so beautiful and thrilling and complicated at the same time. After all, it's not suitable to actually enjoy the nighttime, is it?

I have always waited for October, fascinated by All Hallow's Eve, ghost stories, haunted houses, and anything scary, which probably stemmed from the Nickelodeon classic "Are You Afraid of the Dark?" and the many Halloween parties and haunted houses my parents hosted throughout my childhood. My mother has always been a holiday enthusiast, decorator, and lover of parties. She has always had a passion for Halloween, and that gene I  inherited from her. Growing up, we would always pick up Halloween snacks, and find a new decoration to display. As my walk turned into a stop at the grocery store, I returned home with a box of Count Chocula and a caramel apple in hand - excited to get into the spirit of the looming holiday.

While taking a bite of my caramel apple, the sound of rain tapped against my window and gusts of wind swirled outside making me feel at home - almost like I was in Michigan. That was until the lights started flickering, as if to tell me not to get too comfortable here.