A Martha Manly Man. That's the title I thought about for this online presence. I am a big fan of Martha Stewart Living. I've noticed, however, that the magazine is not supposed to appeal to a male audience. In addition to the craft ideas and recipes, the magazine typically includes tips for beauty care. Just once, I'd like to see an article intended for the gents. I'd feel less awkward about my fondness for Martha Stewart Living if they would. One of my favorite recipes from Martha Stewart Living comes from the December 2004 edition. Most Christmas gingerbread houses are inedible decorations. The walls used to be gingerbread cookies, but now they are hard and strong enough to hold the weight of modern kitchen appliances. In the December 2004 edition of Martha Stewart Living, however, there is a recipe for a gingerbread cake house. Not only is the house entirely edible, but it is a pleasure to eat. One thing that I appreciate about Martha Stewart Living is that the recipes really are from scratch. They are also often traditional recipes. That means they are recipes explaining the right--rather than modern--way to cook a dish. I made the gingerbread cake house recipe as described in the magazine. I could not, however, bring myself to make the frosting that went with this recipe. The cake recipe is spectacular, but the frosting recipe is too complicated for buttercream. Instead, I made the buttercream recipe found at Sweet Savory Life. The recipe on Sweet Savory Life for buttercream frosting is both easy and uses simple readily found ingredients. It also did a fine job of holding up the gingerbread cake. My kids, who love decorating gingerbread houses, were particularly excited about decorating a gingerbread house they could eat. In the end, only my daughter helped to decorate the house. An argument between my daughter and my son leading up to the decorating meant that my son was having some alone time in his room when my daughter decorated. So it goes. When I make the cake again next Christmas, I think I'll make a chocolate and a vanilla buttercream frosting. I'll use the chocolate frosting for the walls and roof, and I'll use the vanilla frosting to make shingles for the roof and doors and windows for the walls. That way, it will be more of a centerpiece, and it will be even more delicious. Like I said, I'm always thinking in manly ways.

Coop Greenhouse

I have a number of failed projects, and few successes. I tried making a portable drying rack for our laundry. Unfortunately, I found out the hard way that my rack was unable to hold wet sleeping bags. At least nobody was standing under it when it fell. I also have some successes. My kids and their friends are enjoying the not-quite completed playhouse in the back yard. Collecting supplies for these sundry projects has left the basement full of scrap pieces and other odds and ends. What to do with all that stuff? A normal person would probably just throw it out, but I'm a pack rat who mourns when anything is thrown out. Why not make a greenhouse instead? I've had success starting my seeds in the basement under a fluorescent light, but this method has always had its problems. Airflow is a continual problem in a damp basement. Roots like to be dry from time to time, and a nice breeze encourages the soil to dry out. There's little breeze in the basement, however, and my seedlings often suffer from wet feet. My seedlings are also usually a bit leggy. When my seedlings become big enough to harden off, I have a tendency to forget about them. A couple of days in my basement without the benefit of the suns rays makes them weak. They always recover once I set them out in the garden, but I'm sure that I would get tomatoes a few weeks earlier if I weren't so careless. Thus, I find myself with a happy coincidence. I have extra lumber and extra windows. I also found some free shower doors for free on Craigslist this week. I also would like a place to put my young seedlings when they're ready for a bit more sun. It would also be nice to able to get some fresh greens in the early spring and late fall. Lettuce in the grocery stores around here usually appear more ready for my compost pile than my dinner table. When lettuce is in season in our garden we enjoy some hearty salads while the season lasts. Wouldn't it be nice to have those hearty salads just a little bit longer this year? Here's the spot for the future greenhouse. I removed the compost bin and birdhouse. They'll find new homes nearby. You can see one of the failed projects in the background that is being cannibalized for this project. The future greenhouse is going to be a very small operation. First, I don't have a lot of time to devote to a greenhouse. Big projects = lots of time. Small projects = somewhat less time. Christmas is coming soon, and my project time competes with family time. This time of year, I also have to complete with the weather. In Missouri, winter means some days will make it into the 40s or 50s. It can also be zero degrees outside. Just depends. Second, I want to spend next to nothing on this project. As I said, Christmas is just around the corner. Our money therefore has to be spent on useless plastic junk rather than a useful project like a greenhouse. I mean, I really have to put the kids first before I spend money on my own hobbies. Before the holidays are over, I will hopefully have a nice little greenhouse up and ready for early spring/late winter. Then when opportunity permits later this spring I may decide to build a small chicken coop on the back of it. At first, I wanted to do this in order to save space. Only then did I discover that this chicken coop/greenhouse house idea is actually a thing. Apparently, there are some folks in the permaculture world who believe that chicken coops and greenhouses were just meant to go together like Angelina and Brad. Supposedly, the chickens will help keep the greenhouse warm on cold winter nights. Sounds great in theory--I saw "The Matrix" too--but I just don't see the chickens making that big of an impact on the temperature in the greenhouse. At least, not on the scale that I'm planning. At most, I will have room for four chickens, and I can't imagine four chickens providing enough body heat to make a difference inside the greenhouse. I just envisioned it as a time saving and space saving tool. Scraps and garden waste go into the coop next door. Walk into the greenhouse and lift the lid on the "shelf" to find eggs. If having chickens next door means I get to eat fresh salads in January, so much the better. I'll keep you posted, and let you know if it works. This may, however, take a while. If I ever get around to adding a coop to the greenhouse, it won't be until later this spring when the sun will be providing all the warmth my seedlings will need. It wouldn't be until next November when the little ladies next door to the greenhouse will start making any difference. I'll also let you know if I end up with any chicken "the ones" like in "The Matrix." I can see it now, a little chicken Neo liberating her fellow hens from my nefarious plot to use their body heat to grow my food. All the while I'll be stealing their eggs. Then when they reach chicken menopause, they become soup. I bet the permaculture people never thought about it like that. They described their vision as a microcosm of the harmonious relationship that should exist between plants and animals. I guess they never thought about it from the chicken's point of view.

Last year we tried to grow pumpkins. Not only do I enjoy pumpkin pies, jack o' lanterns, and roasted pumpkin seeds; but I also enjoy the look of pumpkins. Ripening in the fading sunshine of fall, pumpkins seem to embody the spirit of autumn. They have the orange glow of an autumn sunset. Pitty they like to get eaten by all sorts of critters. Not knowing much about growing pumpkins, I didn't recognize squash bugs until it was too late. By the time I figured out what was eating the vines, the pumpkins had shriveled. The little bugs were everywhere and were too overwhelming to pluck by hand. Even though I love pumpkins, I made the hard decision not to grow them this year. At least I didn't expect to grow pumpkins until my son intervened. He's six, and has long been fascinated by squash, gourds, and of course pumpkins. When I told him there would be no attempt at growing pumpkins this year, he moaned in disappointment. I relented and agreed to save a small portion of the garden plot for pumpkins. Much smaller than last year. I dutifully planted the seeds after the last fall frost, and they came up big and strong just like last year in the early summer. In truth, it didn't take much arm twisting. I still dream of some day growing the giant pumpkins that weigh several hundred pounds. I'll either receive a trophy at the county fair or have the most gloriously impressive jack o' lantern on the block. I would not, however, make the same mistakes as last year. When the vines started to get big, I started my regular rounds. Every couple of days I would check to see if any squash bugs had arrived yet. Then I saw those evil critters and their evil eggs under the leaves of some of the pumpkin vine leaves. After first discovering the little demons, I went out every day to squash the squash bugs. The eggs I scraped off the leaves and either dumped in soapy water or just squished between my fingers until I heard them pop. The walking versions suffered the same fate. Either squished until their nasty green entrails came out or consigned to a watery fate in a soapy bucket. I took special delight squishing the ones having sex when I found them. Seriously, I've found several attached to each other when I disturbed their privacy and ended their nasty lives. I guess that makes me the Freddy Krueger or Jason Vorhees of the squash bug world. Whenever two teenage squash bugs think about having sex, I come along and kill them. My own horror movie in my own backyard. This may all sound quite disgusting, and a gardening neophyte would probably feel like turning back. The costs of gardening may sound too high if it requires you coat your hands in bug guts. Even though my son wanted pumpkins in the garden, he's shown no interest in helping with squash bug squishing. He's happy to squish Japanese Beetles so I know he's not all that squeamish around bugs. When it comes to his prize pumpkins, however, he can't be bothered to squish a few bugs. I don't think he fully realizes the implications of squash bugs. Maybe he doesn't realize the glorious pumpkins we could have if only he would help squish a few of the aptly named bugs. I know, however, what these little guys are capable of. I knew that if I showed any weakness, they would take over and dash any pumpkin dreams that still lingered. It was a battle, and I thought I was winning. After about a week of bug squishing, I went out into the garden for several days and saw no sign of the little guys. I also saw my first pumpkin on the vine. Finally, I had won; but at what cost to my eternal soul? Perhaps the spirits of squished squash bugs would come back to haunt me.

At least, I thought I had won. Shortly thereafter, I saw a vine borer fly through the garden. I ran to the garage to get my kids' butterfly net, but when I came back the vine borer was nowhere to be found. Then, just this week, I found squash bugs again. I'm at it again. Looking under leaves for eggs. Killing baby squash bugs when I can. Taking special delight in killing the fornicating ones. To make things worse, the little pumpkin I saw on the vine last week withered and died. I guess the battle endures so watch out you nasty little squash bugs. None of the other veggies have been so needy. The tomatillos are full of fruit. So are the tomoatoes. Sure a few bugs here or there, but none of the bugs that have munched on my tomatoes, tomatillos, okra, lettuce, etc. have caused so much mischief. I have still gotten bumper crops even with a few bug bites. But not the needy pumpkins. Since squash bugs had decimated my squash crop last year, it was probably pretty foolish to try pumpkins again this year. I mean, I know they overwinter in the ground and pop up again in the spring. I knew they would be back. Perhaps, they are the Jason Vorhees or the Freddy Krueger of the vegetable gardener world. Just when you think they are destroyed and banished the pits of hell, you get Squash Bugs XII: A World Without Squash. Hope, however, spring eternal in the heart of a gardener. The fascination with pumpkins and gourds springs eternal in my son. And some day, death will finally come to all squash bugs.