so many things to do, each day is something new

there is no baby yet, in case that is what you are here to see, but that doesn't mean things have been boring, oh no.

there have been bad seventies cop mustaches (and it took 5 tries before i got a picture where he wasn't laughing, i mean what kind of cop laughs, i needed serious!)


and homemade bread (made by someone other than me to boot!)


plus today it actually felt like spring for the first time and we spent the whole afternoon outside enjoying it


so although there isn't a wee one in my arms yet, and my bladder is still under attack, things are alright over here.

oh and for those of you that are worried about marko's personal aesthetic, this is what he looked like today...phew

hey teacher, leave the fruit alone

* warning this post may make you angry

i just got back from the community garden. it has become my nightly ritual, just after cohen goes to bed i go for a jaunt down the block to water the plot and see how everyone is doing. tonight, after some research on the subject, i was planting beets and parsnips, two crops that can be safely harvested well into fall. i love the garden, the smell, the feel, everything. tonight was especially magical as for only a moment the sky opened up and rain came barreling down providing all of the plants around me some much needed moisture while the sun shone down hard from the west, rainbows in the mist. so by now you may be wondering, why would this make me angry? then there is this next bit.

a family of three adults and two children, well dressed and seemingly professional, appear at the top of the park. they are walking with purpose straight towards the fence the contains the garden. i knew right away that they were headed for the raspberries from the plot connected to ours, their branches dangling into the park inviting others to eat from their heavy limbs. once the picking began the littlest girl asked if it was ok to be eating someone else's raspberries, to which the father replied that "if it is outside the fence it is fair game". to a point i agree with this statement, it is a community garden and if a branch is hanging out with ripe berries attached then a taste is ok. it was when they chose to come through the gate, past the sign that clearly stated that taking from the garden was stealing, and right up to where i was sewing my seeds that i began to object. i was stunned, so i looked at them directly and with disdain. the one man, not the father, whispered to the others that he didn't think they should be in here, that i was looking and it didn't seem right, to which the role model of a father replied "i don't give a shit who she is looking at, it is a community garden, it is fair game". really, fair to who? my blood boiled, my fists clenched and i began to feel dizzy. they took away the happy place and filled it with rage. i wanted to say something, i wanted to yell and hit, maybe even chase them out the gate with a pitchfork, but instead i did nothing, i just sat there and glared with judgement as they pillaged the fruit and then started in on the peas. i sat and i stared and i wished that this bullshit didn't happen. my glare was as good as saying something and it was clear that there would be no backing down, it was five against me.

i left shortly after, they were still there. i couldn't handle staying anymore. as i walked home i tried not to take it so personally, but this week has found me growing more and more attached to the plot. i understand more completely how much work goes into the upkeep, how much pride is placed on it's progress and on the products of the labour. it is impossible not to see it as disrespectful and ignorant. impossible not to take it personally.

two nights ago i met the woman who owned marita's plot last year, she told me quite matter of fact that she gave it up because she was sick of having everything in her garden stolen. she was tired of weeding and watering and nurturing row after row only to come and find the land barren. she was tired of having to cart home still green tomatoes that she would have to ripen on her windowsill if she ever hoped to eat them. then yesterday cohen and i bumped into a man who was complaining about his beans, all but those that are most unreachable had been taken. he had walked down to harvest some for him and his wife's dinner only to find the ripe ones depleted. he has had his plot six years, this year, he says, will be his last.

i don't know, is it worth it? if your enjoyment is in the process then i guess it is. still, i am not sure i need another reminder in my life about how selfish people can be, i am cynical enough already. as i am writing this though i am thinking about yesterday afternoon when cohen was "helping" me water the plot by grasping the end of the hose and run his hand wildly through the spray his hair and shirt soaked through to the bone, or the look on his face when he first figured out how to pick a raspberry off the low lying branches and quickly shove it in his mouth a long "mmmmmmm" seeping from his lips, and it doesn't seem so bad. what do you think, is it worth it?

tonight i finally got motivated enough to trek down to the community garden and dirty my hands. i have been thinking about it for weeks, but thinking isn't doing. turns out that in order to "do", i simply needed the promise of some good company and a cold beer. it was a lovely night for it, albeit a little warm for my liking (no i am not complaining, how dare i complain about heat after all that complaining about rain...i know). one huge garbage bag filled with weeds, a handful of raspberries and a couple of peas later we called it a night. the plot is halfway there, another night and it will be back in business. i don't know what it is but there is something immensely satisfying about pulling weeds and watching as the beauty of the plants buried beneath come to the surface.

oh, and before i forget, that which was lost has now been found, this time under the seat of my mom's car. hope had long since flown out the window, luckily it came back to find me in the end.

i see trees of green, red roses too

i should start by saying that after i wrote last nights blog entry i decided to stay up a little later and wander around the internet catching up with some other blogs i normally read including sweet|salty. i know many of you also read her and if you don't, well the link will explain what i am talking about. like so many other times in my life i was brought back to the present and reminded about the importance of perspective. my sleeping and complaining, although real to me, seemed slightly foolish in the end.



with perspectives in mind let's talk about a new one that cohen and i have been getting lately, namely our brief encounters with outside living. marita had been on the waiting list for a plot in the community garden just a few blocks from our house for over a year, but luckily for us her name came up a few weeks ago and a plot was given. unfortunately this also coincided with her northern bc poetry tour and so i jumped at the chance to help her (and us in the process) out by volunteering to do some clean up on the plot while she was away.



i knew it would be a challenge having cohen down there, what with all the dirt and sticks to chew on, so i made a trip to the salvation army and found a pack and play in pretty decent shape for next to nothing. once i gave it a bath in the tub and aired it out, it was ready for some action, and so yesterday afternoon down to the garden we went. i did some weeding and soil turning, and cohen did some people watching and sun soaking. for a moment we may have actually allowed ourselves to believe that we had a backyard. it was magnificent.



so great in fact that today we went back for some more, this time with a few purchased plants in tow. i look forward to spending time at the garden with marita and the boys, watching the garden grow and in the end hopefully enjoying the fruits of our labour!