It’s Been Real

Posted on June 27, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

Dear Lago’s,

We’ve been together for a while now.  Has it been ten years?  Everything seemed great this spring and I thought we’d be together forever.  I planned to visit once a week for the rest of the summer, sampling through the flavors.

The banana ice cream I had last night was as good as ever.  OK, maybe the young lady who took my order was a little surly, but the rest of the staff was their usual spunky selves.  Truth be told, though, I didn’t like how the last little bit of the Joy cone wrapper stuck on my sugar cone.  It’s been happening for a while; I just never said anything.

I don’t know how to break this to you.

I’ve met someone else.

Last week when I was in Maine, I took a back road home from my class in Augusta; I bumped into Webber’s Ice Cream on Route 201 in Farmingdale.  I ordered a dish of Lemon Chiffon ice cream with a sugar cone on top and there was no paper stuck on the cone.  I sat down in my car, looked up, and I think I saw stars twinkling all around the ice cream stand.

Sure, it’s not a “big time” ice cream stand like you, Lago’s, and they don’t even have a web site.  They don’t seem to post much on their Facebook fan page, either.  It’s cool, quaint, and picturesque next to the Kennebec River, though, and the staff is friendly.  They have as many different flavors as you do.

I hate to admit it, but I stopped there four nights out of five.  New friends from my class went with me on two of the four visits.  No one had a jaded thing to say about Webber’s and no one was standing around looking bored with a “another wasted night in Augusta and I’m alone at the ice cream stand again” look on their faces.

Sure, everything is always better in the beginning, before the cracks start to show.  Maybe I’ll get tired of Webber’s and kick it to the curb.  It’s far away from the Coop; long distance relationships are hard.  I think it’s going to work, though, because it’s encouraging me to figure out how to get closer to my home and family.  There are lots of good people in the area; something will work out.  That’s the plan.

We can still be friends if you like, but you know how that goes.

Look, it’s not you.  It’s me.  I’ve been feeling this way for a while; I tried to keep it together for the sake of the blog.  I don’t think I’m going to change my mind.  Thanks for the memories, though.

Love,

Julie-Ann

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Juggling Experiments

Posted on June 26, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

Last week, I attended the Maine Compost School in Monmouth, Maine.  I wrote about it a little bit and I am planning to write a detailed piece in the future.  Compost is more amazing than I realized and now I know exactly why my compost tumbler stinks, literally and figuratively.  Let the record show three things:

  1. I made a simple introduction.

“I’m Julie-Ann Baumer, I work in the financial services industry, I’m not really sure why I’m here, but I’m hoping to find my purpose this week.”

2.  There were no superlatives, graduation speeches, or valedictorians.  Certificates of completion were given to all students, including me.  A final exam was administered and I scored 92 out of a possible 100 points.  Yee Haw and Phew!

3.  I did not find my ultimate composting purpose, but I have a lot of new ideas and I’m planning some experiments and challenges in my head.

It was a purposeful vacation and an added bonus was that I got to see Uncle Bob every day.  We had discussions about the garden; he asked me why I only planted a little patch of peas and I said “well, it was an experiment.”  He asked me if I was happy about the salt marsh hay I had used as mulch on some of my tomatoes and melons and I admitted I wasn’t happy.

“It was an experiment” I said.

He told me that crows had tried to eat the three rows of organic corn seed I gave him to plant.  He had to replant some of it.  I reminded him it was “an experiment.”

I felt bad, though.  Uncle Bob loves his corn.  I’d like this “experiment” to turn out well because I’m trying to make a case for organic corn.  That’s the thing about experiments in the garden; they take time and if they fail, it could mean no corn for the summer.  Uncle Bob planted some “other” corn, just in case the experiment fails.  He’s smart like that.

Uncle Bob seemed pleased with things in the garden and we were both happy about the heat and the rain which will give our “crops” a boost.  He even said I could plant a whole row of peas next year.  I think I’ll take him up on it; the little patch of peas I planted in the Hampton Victory Garden produced some delicious treats.  I’m going to pick some on my way to work today; they’re “Amish Snap” and I’ve been eating them pod and all.

In Compost School, all the instructors were professors of scientific disciplines; things like agronomy, zoology, and soil sciences.  They had conducted a lot of experiments and they brought their results, in part, to the class.  Sometimes their experiments failed and they admitted it, usually with a bit of a laugh.  They also explained how their failures had encouraged them to look at the current problem in new ways and make adjustments in their experiments.  The adjustments produced new results, new evidence, and sometimes success.

Driving home from the Big Corporation yesterday, I stopped at my Secret Garden.  The lettuce was out of control, the tomatoes were not, and the beets were disappointing.  Gratefully, I picked a big basket of lettuce and some radishes for my lunch.

I’ve been juggling a lot of experiments lately.  Things like gardening, blogging, working, and trying to find my purpose.  It’s hard to juggle all these things.  I need to get back into the lab and analyze some of my results, or as they might say in Compost School, get my sh*t together.

Failure is not an option in some of these experiments.

How are your garden experiments going?

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A Moody Road Trip

Posted on June 25, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

I’ve written about my brother before; he’s an author and he’s written two books about Moxie.  He’s a hard-working writer (among other things) and although he has been known to say he is “toiling away in obscurity” he did have a book signing in Rockland, Maine, on Saturday night.  Rockland is an interesting destination; on two different occasions in my life I have had reasons to go there on a regular basis, but things changed and I knew if I went to the book signing, I’d be just another person with an out-of-state license plate pushing the pedal northward on Route 1.

I didn’t intend to go alone, either.  One of the other hard-working men I know had to work; making hay while the sun was shining, sort of.  He couldn’t road trip; I understood.  So I gassed up the Jeep at the Extra Mart and got a beverage at the big box store of New England coffee.  You wouldn’t think three teenagers could ruin a cup of iced coffee, but they did.  It was the worst cup of iced coffee I’d ever had.  Things weren’t starting out well.

I got sidetracked one more time before I got out of town.  It was something that made me sad and I’ll blog about it one of these days.  This story isn’t about that distraction, though; let’s just say thunderstorms were threatening and a few sprinkles hit the windshield like the big sad tears that kept welling up in my eyes.

Once in a while, I would let these tears roll down my cheeks.  It seemed like I cried all the way to Woolwich (boo hoo), then to the turn off for Boo-hoo-ooth-bay, in Wiscasset (sniff, sniff), and maybe as far as Nobleboro (whaaa).  By the time I got to Moody’s Diner, my nose was running and I had to pull out a few tissues and make repairs.  I parked next to a two-tone lemon yellow ’56 Chevy and this seemed like a sign that the evening’s mood was going to change.

There was a line to get a booth, but it was just me, so I marched on up to the counter and sat down on a vacant stool between some local folks.  I have found that when I have to eat alone, it’s always best to sally forward confidently and act like you belong, even if you’re wearing fancy pants and Palm Beach sandals in the land of jeans and work boots.

The diner was humming and I was feeling better looking at the pie menu.  Did I want just pie and coffee or did I want some kind of meal?  I opted for a cup of clam chowder to start; that seemed right.  I busied myself scribbling on my napkin and observing people.  There were a lot of pie options and I needed time to think.  Then, right on cue, a tourist came in wearing a tropical print shirt, sat down at the counter and ordered a Moxie.  A lone traveler, he made a big “to do” about ordering it.  I decided to play along and said “excuse me, would you mind if I took a picture of you pouring your Moxie?”  I took his picture, told him about the book signing, and we chatted a bit.  He was from California.

My pie options were 4-berry, strawberry rhubarb, blueberry, apple, lemon meringue, walnut, custard, banana cream, chocolate cream, coconut cream, and peanut butter cream.  4-berry is my favorite and I didn’t want to step out of my comfort zone.  I ordered it a la mode.

(Hey, the counter top looks like my kitchen table!)

While I had been eating my dinner with my back to the windows, it had started to rain again.   I noticed this when I paid my bill and left.  The rain had scattered all the fair weather travelers off the road and I had Route 1 to myself.  I was alone with my thoughts again, but it’s just a skip through Warren and Thomaston to Rockland.

I was glad to see my brother and his wife and we kicked around Rockland a little bit after the book signing.  We said our good byes and then I headed south into the darkness of Route 1, alone with my warm thoughts of Moxie and Moody’s Diner.  No more tears.

It’s Monday and I’m back at the Coop, shoveling it for the Big Corporation.  I hope I scratched enough material onto that napkin for a whole week of blog posts.  It’s not so bad to have dinner alone at Moody’s Diner on a Saturday night; there is always pie and Moxie and the good people of Maine to keep you company.  Even in my fancy pants and Palm Beach sandals, I am one of them.  Ayuh.

No need for tears.

Where did you eat dinner Saturday night? 

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A Gift

Posted on June 24, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

Running errands at home on Saturday, I made my usual stop at my friend’s barber shop.  The flowers by her sign were going wild and I couldn’t help but take a picture.

I’m not as much of a flower girl as I used to be; I couldn’t remember the name of this flower.  Cornflower?  Carnation?

Entering the barber shop, the conversation went something like this:

Julie-Ann:        Faye, what are those flowers around your sign?

Faye:                 They’re a gift from God.

Enough said.

It’s Sunday; enjoy your gifts today.  And rest.

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Talk of the Toile – Show House Potential

Posted on June 22, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

I’ve spent the week at the Maine Compost School, conducted at the lovely Highmoor Farm in Monmouth, Maine.

On a scale of 1 to 10, I would rate this property a 5 in show house potential.

The pros of this property:

  • It’s a pastoral and aesthetically beautiful location,
  • it’s a large house with many rooms,
  • and it has a lot of space for overflow activities like a gift shop, lectures, and events.

The cons of this property:

  • The parking potential is unclear,
  • it’s in a remote location, and
  • it’s currently in active use

Since the Highmoor Farm isn’t open for show house traffic, I suggest a trip to the Kenneth Roberts Estate in Kennebunkport, Maine.  The Show House opens to the general public beginning Saturday, June 23, 2012.

Check it out!

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Hay, Hay, Hay…Hey!

Posted on June 21, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

The route I traveled Wednesday stretched from my own little town up to Augusta, over to the Waterville area, down through Unity, back to Augusta and then home.

It was all hay, all day.

All across Central Maine, the slow-moving tractors swayed across the fields.  Some were cutting; others were baling.

Wednesday was a great day for hay.

It was beautiful.

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Tractor Safety

Posted on June 20, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

I’ve just finished my second day at the Maine Compost School.  I’ve learned a lot of things; most of them far beyond the scope of building a pile of vegetable scraps and leaves in the back yard.  Compost is a serious matter and there is a lot of math and science involved.  I’m not sure I will be the valedictorian, although during a small group exercise, I had a great public relations idea.  It had to do with the potential hedonic tone of 2 tons of fish waste.

Here is a short list of the practical things I’ve learned so far, in no particular order:

1.  If you don’t have a tape measure handy to measure the size of compost pile, it’s good to know the length of your walking pace.  You can measure lots of things just by knowing your pace.

2.  Dogs like chicken manure.

3.  It’s great to take a class with a male to female ration of 9:1.  When there is a “bio break” there are no lines and no waiting.

4.  Every composting expert I’ve met this week has a passion for their work which is difficult to describe.  If I were a more mystical person, I would call it an aura.  They all exuded a “I really love this sh*t” vibe.

5.  Everyone in my hometown who is still working leaves for work between 5:00 a.m. and 6:00 a.m.  They pass me when I’m on my way to the library to post my blog.  Most wave.

6.  There is a right way and a wrong way to climb onto a tractor.  Every tractor has a set of stairs; climb them going up and climb them back down the same way. 

Luckily, when I got home from school and went over to my garden, Uncle Bob had taken our tractor out of the barn and I was able to practice climbing up and down the stairs.

In the summer, Uncle Bob keeps our tractor in an undisclosed location closer to The Farm.  It’s a “summer resort” for tractors.  Maybe now that I am well-versed in tractor safety, he’ll let me take it for a spin.

We’ll see!

What did you learn yesterday?

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Garlic Scapes

Posted on June 19, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

The information I provide to you is editorial and helpful in nature and cannot be construed as perfect truth.  Some of the information I am providing is based on anecdotal evidence and personal experience.  The benefit claimed has not been evaluated by the USDA, the  FDA, or your local extension service.  Your results may vary.

My memory is failing me, but I think this is the third or fourth year I’ve grown garlic in my home garden.  It’s a low maintenance thing to grow; the clove is planted in the ground in the fall and it pops up in the spring.  Just like that.

Around about now, a curly “scape” grows from the middle of the plant. 

If allowed to grow, a garlic flower will emerge from the tip of the scape.  Don’t let that happen.  While I’m sure garlic flowers are perfectly lovely and beautiful, the plant’s energy will be diverted into the growth of the flower instead of the bulb.  I want a hale and hearty garlic bulb this winter, as big as my fist.  Plants only have so much life energy, though, so if it goes into growing a flower, the plant won’t have enough energy for the bulb.  The garlic bulb will be smaller as a result.

Tonight, I’m going to harvest my garlic scapes.  I’m just going to take some garden scissors and snip them off, easy as pesto.  Speaking of which, garlic scapes taste just like garlic and they make delicious pesto.  I don’t have a formal recipe.  Just cut off the flower tip, chop up the stems and throw them in a food chopper or processor with olive oil and a pinch of salt.  Process it to a desired consistency and then stir in some fresh grated Parmesan cheese.  It’s delicious on pasta, fresh steamed vegetables, or even crackers.

Don’t fear the scape.  Eat it.

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The Elaborate Introduction

Posted on June 18, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

People who are skilled at selling things know how to pitch their products quickly and effectively.  They say a lot and they say it in as few words as possible.  They rehearse their pitches and make sure to use “power” words that “hook” a person into buying what they’re selling.  Sometimes, this is called an “elevator pitch.”

I’m not skilled at selling things, but as an adult, I’ve had to perfect my own version of an “elevator pitch” for client meetings and participation in clubs and organizations.  Let’s call it “the elaborate introduction.”

In my job at The Big Corporation, I might have to meet customers and explain to them why I’m the best person to handle their business.  My introduction might go like this:

“I’m Julie-Ann Baumer and I’ve worked in the XYZ industry for 25 years.  I’m cool and level-headed under fire, yet I can respond to your employees with a compassion that rivals Mother Theresa.  When they weep, I weep.  I love your employees like you love your employees and I handle every interaction with them as if they were my own flesh and blood.  Thank you for placing your trust in me.”

When I was the co-chairperson of the Junior League of Boston’s decorator show house, I would occasionally introduce myself like this:

“I’m Julie-Ann Baumer and I want to welcome you with an open heart to the most exciting decorative event in New England.  As you tour our elegant house today, steeped with history, drama, and charm, I guarantee you will want to call our talented designers and engage their services to decorate your own homes.  Please wait, however, until you depart the show house; no photographs or cell phones are allowed while touring the property.  And please…don’t touch the window treatments.”

When I represent the Hampton Victory Garden, I sometimes try this approach to get free stuff for the garden:

“Hi, I’m Julie-Ann Baumer, the volunteer coordinator at the Hampton Victory Garden.  Possibly one of the oldest community gardens on the New Hampshire Seacoast, our 40 gardeners grow their flowers and vegetables organically.  Our gardeners are excited about your mulch and compost products and we’d enjoy it if you’d make a large donation of bagged product to help us continue in our organic schemes.  Please feel free to drop a pallet of your products at our Barbour Road location at any time, preferably within the next two weeks.”

This week, I’m taking a class.  I’m nervous about it because I haven’t taken a class in a while.  I don’t know if there will be homework, but I signed up for the written exam at the end.  I like a challenge; I want to be the valedictorian.  I wonder if we’ll have to make introductions?

Here is the one I’ve prepared:

“I’m Julie-Ann Baumer.  I’m an amateur gardener, wanna-be farmer, community garden organizer, free-lance writer, and big corporation employee.  I wanted to take a Master Gardening class this spring but I missed the sign-up deadline.  Since I’ve never been able to produce decent compost in my tumbler, I decided to sign up for the Maine Compost School instead.  I write an obscure blog; if things work out here, I’ll write a hilarious tribute to your program and you’ll have more students than you can handle.

I’ve been working around the clock for the last three weeks to get here, so if I fall asleep in class, please forgive me.”

I’m looking forward to the challenge of learning a few new things this week and finally figuring out how to get some compost cooking in this container.

I might have to rewrite my elaborate introduction, though.  We’ll see.

Have you ever introduced yourself to a pile of compost?

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Tops Among Teens

Posted on June 17, 2012 by Julie-Ann Baumer

Today is Father’s Day.  Many people will be writing blog posts about their fathers.  I’ve written about my father before and I will probably write about him again; this blog veers off into the ditch of Memory Lane from time to time.

When I first learned how to read, I used to read and study my father’s high school yearbook, the 1951 Lisbonian.  The teenagers in that yearbook were as real to me as my next door neighbors because they were my next door neighbors. Carl Huston lived across the street, Dianne Whittier had married Ted Drottar and they lived up the street.  Jeanne Dumas lived on the other side of town.  I knew who had played football with my father, who had been the class valedictorian, and what each person’s favorite songs were back in 1951.

In the senior superlatives, my father was “most popular.”  I think he was also a bit of a class clown.

When I’m home, my mother and I will occasionally take a walk without my father; just the two of us.  Inevitably, we’ll pass someone in our travels who will say “Where’s Hermie?”  I am always tempted to say “he’s home polishing up his saddle shoes for the sock hop tonight,” but I don’t.  When we get home, we report these fan sitings to “Hermie.”  I like to tell him “you’re so popular, Dad.”  The last time I said it, he made his trademark smirk and said “I was always tops among teens.”

It’s true; he was “tops among teens” in 1951.

(Left to right, Erving Bickford, King of Winter Carnival, ’50, “Hermie,” Dianne Whittier, Rita Baumer, Queen of Winter Carnival, ’50)

He’s no longer a teen, but he’s still popular.  He’s the “King” of our house and hearts and I am fortunate to have had him around all these years.  I’m at that age where more and more of my friends are missing their Dads today; I’m thinking of you.

I know it won’t be the same, but I’m happy to share my popular father with you.  We’ll be sitting out in the back yard in our lawn chairs and the “King” will be holding court.

See you there.

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