Break out the lights, mix that potting soil and get those pepper seeds in the ground. It’s time to start gardening, becoming nearly a year-round career for The Root Sellers farm. Here are a couple of get growing videos from my YouTube channel -- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z8tySO5oBoU&t=13s and my website videos at https://www.therootsellers.com/videos.html.
 
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It’s not easy being green. Kermit the Frog has been fighting for green for many years now. It’s hard to imagine green on President’s Day as we are experiencing snow and cold, and I love it. 
 
Yep, if you are a gardener, you appreciate all moisture the area receives leading up to the big day – planting outdoors.
 
However, if you have gardening friends, you will know by now they are chomping at the bit to get those seeds in some soil. And this is the week.
 
How do I know? I keep a garden diary. It isn’t a complete record of what I do in the garden because work begins in earnest once we move to the outdoors. In the meantime, on Monday, I dashed out to the greenhouse to load up some small trays, plugged in my heat mat and dug out all the lights from storage in the basement. 
 
It’s essential to know a few things about getting those seedlings off to a good start. First, you need sterile soil, trays, water and seeds – and a notebook. I use a Rite in Rain mechanical pencil and notebook. When I was in biology in high school, Mr. Dinkins told us to keep our notebooks in pencil because if we ever dropped a book in the water or wet grass, it won’t run like a ballpoint pen. So, I have been doing that for years. 
 
Always record dates, temp, weather and whether you liked the fruit from those seeds in the prior harvest year. It helps to create a drawing of your garden and note where you planted crops for rotation purposes. We can talk about that later. Last year, we planted some heirloom tomatoes that ended up being the tiniest tomatoes ever. My spouse and I agreed they were a waste of our time, and we did not harvest more than a handful. Too bad we may not have pulled out the plants in time to prevent them from germinating in the high tunnel this season. Opps.
 
Next, you need STERILE potting soil. If you do not choose the correct soil, your plants will experience damping-off and other diseases. I mix my own. Use sterile soil – but do not use anything that has those water retention beads and fertilizer in – this is very important. Sometimes that soil is the least expensive brand. Seeds are God’s perfect packages. They have everything they need to get going in this world, including the will to live. Mix a bucket in these parts – one-half soil, one-quarter vermiculite and one-quarter peat moss. This recipe is ideal for starting all your plants and potted flowers later in the summer.
 
Fill your little pots. If you aren’t seeding 100 peppers, you can use a milk jug, pop bottle, whatever WATER-proof container you have, remembering that overwatering is a sin. It’s something that new gardeners often do. WARM up the containers and the soil in the sunshine on a windowsill and then plant those seeds. Cover your container with plastic wrap creating a mini greenhouse to keep them moist until they pop out of the ground. Then you wait. It takes a long time for peppers to germinate, so keep an eye on the moisture in the container. You don’t want it to be sopping wet, and you don’t want it to dry out completely. If possible, it’s important to have drainage holes in the bottom of the container. But you want to put a tray underneath that to catch the drips. Here’s a slight hint – if you take a coffee filter and put it over the holes in the bottom of a planter or container, the water will filter out, and the soil will stay in the pot. 
 
Tiny seedlings are tender so keep these final thoughts in mind.
1.         Don’t overwater.
2.         Use a spray bottle to avoid washing those new plants out of the soil.
3.         Do not fertilize until much later.
4.         When transplanting to a larger pot, do not handle the stem, move them using the leaves and don’t transplant until plants have at least four leaves.
5.         Keep those containers in a warm space, but do not put them in your oven and forget to remove them before using the oven. Yes, the oven light provides ample heat for germination.
6.         LIGHT THEM UP. A common mistake is not having enough light for those young seedlings to get a good start in the world. Use one cool and one warm fluorescent light instead of investing in an expensive grow light. You can get those fixtures for $20 or less at Menards.
7.         Have fun. Gardeners are supposed to be the healthiest people on the planet. And, the rewards are good local food from your backyard.
 
PS: if you haven’t ordered seed yet, you can check out my favorite LOCAL seed house at www.prairieroadorganic.co. The Podall family breeds seed that thrives in our zone leading to a great first-time experience in the garden. There is online ordering and fast shipping, so you still have plenty of time. So get growing.

​ND ROOTS January 31, 2022
 
You have heard it before. “It’s not if it happens, it’ when.” That’s right, I got a virus, and I am still downloading the effects of stuffy sinuses. We all know the most significant part of having a mid-winter cold is how good it feels to feel good again. And, taste. Oh, how good food smells and tastes after a week of being ill.
 
Naturally, after having some chicken tomato rice soup on Sunday, I had this incredible urge to make cookies. After all, I had been sleeping for nearly as long as Rip Van Winkle, mainly on the couch. With the nice weekend weather, I took a walk Sunday afternoon during halftime of the first football playoff game. Both games preceding the Super Bowl were exciting if you like that sort of thing.
 
Sometime at the start of game two, I headed for the kitchen, forced some butter to room temperature and dug out my mother’s chocolate chip cookie recipe. Unlike the Toll-House recipe, this cookie was crisper and had pretty cracks running through it if adequately baked. It was never my favorite as a child, but we had little choice. 
 
My children weren’t very fond of them either. They called them kitchen sink cookies because I usually added whatever we had in the house by way of chocolate chips, nuts, raisins, coconut and oatmeal. This recipe is a proper “dunker” cookie.
 
It had been a while since I baked for our household. My usual fare is bread for the farmers market and, recently, breakfast pastries for a church retreat. I’m grateful I have a way to spread my oven-lovin’ around the community, so we don’t have to eat all the baked goods I make in a month. 
 
Oh, these cookies were fabulous. I hit the nail on the head with the correct amount of flour, the perfect scoop of dough on the cookie sheet and the proper amount of time in the oven. Instead of raisins, I used craisins but no coconut. I loaded that dough with dark chocolate chocolate chips and plenty of chopped walnuts (even if I had to take a loan from my local bank to purchase them). I hope my mom was watching from heaven with a smile on her face.
 
Rather than wait, we had to try one hot out of the oven. The chocolate was still soft and gooey. It was okay. The second cookie was cooler and absolutely divine. I know it’s difficult to wait until bread and cookies cool off before indulging, but I have found over the years the flavors develop if you allow them to cool first. That, and you won’t burn your fingers grabbing them off the cookie sheet. Just an FYI, bread needs to cool thoroughly to bake entirely and is so much easier to slice if you give it a few hours on the rack. If you cut it right away, you are sacrificing the rest of the loaf for that one heel, dripping with butter. Yep, I do it all the time, mostly because I can.
 
I know the next question you ask is, “can I have the recipe?” Yes. I think my mother would be greatly disappointed if I didn’t share, so here it is. ENJOY.
 

Here is a heart-shaped Valentine's Day box my mother had hidden in her dresser drawer for as long as I remember. When we cleaned out her house, I put this precious box, most likely from the early 1950s, filled with letters from Korea written by my dad in my dresser draw. I decided not to read the notes until my father was reunited with my mom. (He is 95 and living in Ave Marie in Jamestown.)


A bit of Valentine's Day history

If you are looking for an excuse to eat chocolate, Monday, Feb. 14, is your day. Who needs a reason, right? After all, the latest scientific information says dark chocolate is good for you. It is my favorite of all chocolates. 
Valentine's Day, however, is one of those days I could take or leave. After many years, it loses some of its significance. My interest has renewed a bit since I have grandchildren, and I am delighted to spend my Valentine's Day budget on them.

According to legend, St. Valentine was more than one person, and the stories around the two "Valentines" fluctuated between a priest that defied Emperor Claudius II's ban on marriage or a Christian martyr that signed his letters from prison "from your Valentine."

Of course, like many of our holidays, Valentine's Day has its roots in an ancient Pagan festival called "Lupercalia," celebrated on Feb. 15 in ancient Rome. This festival was dedicated to the Roman god of agriculture and, believe it or not, celebrated by sacrificing animals and smacking women with animal hides; this was done to encourage fertility. YIKES.
Our Valentine's Day did not grow roots until the end of the 5th Century, when Pope Gelasius officially made Feb. 14 Valentine's Day. In the Middle Ages, people began to associate love and romance to that day because the French and English thought birds began mating on that day. It's not yet Feb. 14, but I did hear some new bird songs this past weekend.
Not being a bird, how does Cupid fit in? Well, he is the god of love, Eros. Let's hope he didn't look like the little boy in a diaper with a bow and arrow.

The first Valentine exchanged between lovers, according to History.com, came from a duke named Charles to his wife. He wrote, "I am already sick of love, My very gentle Valentine." You guessed it; he wrote this from prison at 21, so all he had was his imagination.

From there, people began purchasing mass-produced valentines in the middle 1840s. This custom started with Esther A. Howland, the mother of the American valentine. Like my sister-in-law, she made fancy crafty cards with lace, ribbons and floral relief elements.

As far as giving flowers, there are traditional roses, red ones at that. Roses are not in season this time of year, making them expensive to give to your loved one. Sometimes, when we are young, we are worth it. Otherwise, I would rather have a plant or seeds that last longer.
That brings us to today. I was blown away by the amount of cash spent on love for this one day of the year. According to the National Retail Foundation, Americans spent more than $20 billion on Valentine's Day gifts in 2019 and were estimated to spend a record-breaking $27.4 billion for 2020 — including $2.4 billion on candy alone. That's what I'm talking about. Men spend around $291 compared to women spending $106. With the price of today's elaborate Valentine's Day cards, exchanged to the tune of 145 million cards (not counting the ones' put into those imaginative valentine boxes in school rooms), Hallmark has come a long way from its first Valentine's Day card sold in 1913.

I would never give my pet a card or gift on Valentine's Day, however in 2020, around 27.6 million American households gave Valentine's Day presents to their pet dogs, and more than 17.1 million picked up gifts for their cats. All in all, American families spent an estimated $751.3 million on gifts for their pets on Valentine's Day.

Okay, now about that heart-shaped box. If you are familiar with the Cadbury Easter egg, Richard Cadbury created the first heart-shaped box of chocolates in 1861. Boxes are still a popular gift. An estimated 36 million boxes of chocolate, and 58 million pounds of chocolate, are sold in fancy boxes each year. I'm banking on it. Happy Valentine's Day.

​Long ago and not so far away, people in North Dakota relied on their instincts regarding winter weather. Sure, there were weather reports, but rural folks became familiar with the land they farm, microclimates, and, most importantly, the sky. I am a "sky watcher."
 
To this day, I still get teased about my watchful weather eye relying on folklore and my eyesight to determine the weather. My husband is one of those nonbelievers.
 
My first job out of college was a year or so, at Dierk's Printing in Moorhead, Minn. Art Dierk Sr. used to greet me in the morning singing, "Oh, the hens in Gackle will cackle tonight." (That should give you some indication of where I graduated from high school.)
 
Then, he would ask me about the weather having the utmost respect for my instincts, whether right or wrong. If you took today's weather reports and matched them to mine, I would say I was correct more often than they.
 
Of course, weather reports back then did not necessarily predict the weather days in advance. I prefer that to the long-winded usually never happens weather reports of today. Don't get me started on things like wind chill and naming blizzards. Sometimes it is best not to know these things keeping in mind you must dress for winter when it's winter and use some common sense.
 
This story happened before the age of cell phones. That's correct; if you were stranded in the middle of winter, alone, in a car, without proper clothing, you were most certainly in trouble. So, like the boy scouts when I traveled for my on-the-road art job, I always carried "a winter survival kit." 
 
Adam traveled to many places as my sidekick in his middle school years. When planning one such journey, my son became concerned about my well-being in the winter. He was a great traveler that required only a Subway sandwich once a day to remain content. Before I left, he put a brown-colored Gourmet Supreme Folger's coffee can in my van. PLEASE NOTE, youngsters, that not only did we not have cell phones back then, but Folger's came in metal cans requiring a can opener. There was a plastic lid included to keep those grounds fresh after opening. Oh, the best part of waking up.
 
Inside this can were several mini-Snickers bars, stick matches, small pieces of notepaper, pencils, two candles and a note. If you read this column regularly, you guessed it – I still have that note. I also have that can with its contents.
 
The note reads (in middle-school cursive pencil): "Mom, I hope you survive. I "heart" you a lot. Draw me a picture."
 
The note, the can, the candles all form memories for a mom-turned-grandmother. My days of traveling as an artist, the young children I raised during quiet trips without cell phones, and the superb winter storms of my youth are lovely memories. My "heart" aches for those days. 
 
Yes, we still have winter weather, and people continue to venture out when they shouldn't drive on icy roads with wind chills well below zero, but not as often I remember.
 
Maybe I should not have tried to drive that week to my appointed destination. But a commitment is a commitment, and I have faith that my precious can with that "heart" warming note would have saved my life. Stay safe out there. The January thaw more than likely ends this weekend.

​“Adam has rona.”

“What?”
 
“He tested positive.”
 
“What?”
 
“He has corona virus.”
 
Okay, I do live in an isolated area of Morton County, but not so isolated that I haven’t heard we are experiencing a resurgence of the pandemic, but apparently my vocabulary has not caught up to the times. That started me thinking.
 
“We need some 12x18 coated paper,” I said to my favorite print shop. “Is it possible to get a couple hundred sheets?”
 
“Sure thing.” Until an hour later when Miss Kelsey calls me back and said, “We don’t have any 12x18 paper. There’s a paper supply chain shortage.”
 
“Seriously?”
 
“I can cut you some from 13x19-inch stock, but I have to charge you for the cutting,” she said.
 
“Do it,” I said not ever expecting anyone to say that to me. Sure, I have heard it on the news, but.
 
Working for a time before this time on local food systems, I have heard about supply chains. We have been trying to connect local producers to schools and restaurants. That requires breaking into chains that have dominated the market for years. 
 
I never expected to be affected by these words in any other context. Within the next week, I’m on the phone for 30 minutes to acquire some toner so I can print the newsletter – half of which is laying in the tray and the other half not somewhere in limbo land because… you guessed it, “a supply chain shortage.” 
 
Other new words that have popped up in the last two years include “social distancing” and “quarantine.” Of course, we have maybe come across the quarantine word in history books but being asked to quarantine was a difficult experience for most people. I, myself, rather like to be out here alone with no social obligations so I can spend time creating and planting things. 
Upon Googling new words used during the pandemic I found many takes on social activities like such as drinking a “quarantine” or “coronarita” during “walktail.”

We have entered a new year. For more years than I can remember, the first day of the new year creates the need to clean out my house. Perhaps straighten up my surroundings while on hiatus from our busy summers and throw things away.

So, here I go. My studio contains a workspace for writing and designing documents. There’s a printer, computer, file cabinet, bookcase, and several trays for holding papers. From across the half wall separating the fiber design area from the office space, I can see bins of yarn, stacks of fabric, my sewing machines, cutting table and loom, among other things.

As I grew wiser in years, my mantra has become “simplify.” And, I try. When the ball drops, I become annually determined to clean out my studio and closets to reduce my possessions. I also would like to get rid of all the things I have been saving for projects I will never get to in my lifetime. Hello Pinterest. Just what the creative thinkers and makers of the world like me needed. It wasn’t enough to have ideas of my own trying to escape my brain; now, I also have everyone else’s up there.

Throughout my career as a “maker,” I collected ideas that stimulated other ideas, so I collected the things I needed to create those things at will—time being the biggest roadblock. I had to have a job to buy all those supplies, kits and yarn. I have been doing this for years, looking forward to retirement, which I recently put off for another three months.

When I was a young stay-at-home mom, I read a book about how we should always have a store of threads, fabrics, elastic zippers, etc. etc. on hand so, at a whim, we could walk into our sewing room and 1.5 hours later leave with a new shirt, skirt or stuffed animal in hand.

Thus began my shelf-stocking for all the projects I will never have time to complete. Therefore, every year, I say to myself, “let it go. You will never have enough time in your life to make all the dolls, stuffed animals, crocheted mittens, woven dishtowels, skirts and shirts you would like.”

Not surprisingly, I have loads of things an average person would consider junk, such as old tins, corks, blocks of bee’s wax, unique buttons, broken jewelry – you know, the components of some fabulous piece of artwork. 

(Insert laughter here).

So, I begin each year with a notebook (a bullet journal deconstructed) and a nice pen (I collect those kinds of art supplies also) to clean out my house. To expedite finding something for a particular project, I inventory my collection of yarn and fabric and throw those things out, which I cannot even fathom getting to soon.

Well, that’s a problem. As I kneel on the floor sorting the brown kraft paper I save from all the boxes of stuff delivered by our great UPS, FedEx and mailmen and women, I’m muttering to myself, “well, I will need this for pattern drafting, winding warp or wrapping packages.” I smooth it out, sometimes iron it, and put it back on a different shelf. 

That opens up a new shelf, and I rearrange my stacks of linen and cotton fabrics and take note of all the beautiful things I have yet to make from it. Currently, I have three looms with projects, one scarf to finish, a batch of soap to wrap, and an art doll to make out of old quilt squares from my grandmother. Like dominos, this continues, for I cannot find the strength to let go of any of my treasures. 

The moral of this story – there is no cleaning out or throwing away; it’s just a re-newed year with a desire to create. Happy New Year.

Sixteen. First, there were 39; now, there are 16. I have 16 aunts and uncles left in this world. They are unsystematically moving from this world to the next in no particular order. Monday, it was my Aunt Luella’s turn. Her funeral was Monday. My aunts and uncles dying ushers in the end of a time that I thought would never end. 

As my extra-large family would gather at the holidays and reunions and the aunts and uncles were everywhere, and I thought these times would last forever. But forever has come, and it signifies a couple of things.  

First, my many cousins and I are becoming orphans. Secondly, we must assume the role of the oldest generation – no more calling “mom” or “dad” to solve problems, schedule visits or get cooking advice. Third, we see each other less and less each year as our own families grow larger and larger and spread themselves across the country.

I’m sad, and yet in a small way, I can picture the joy my mom and her family experience every time one of the flock joins those in heaven.

My Aunt Luella was one of my mom’s older sisters; she was 97 in August. I loved her. In my mind, I can still see her doing a jig at one of our annual picnics with her red shoes; she was in her 90s at that time. I told people I wanted to be just like her when I grew up – lively and good-humored. 

As large as my family was, I knew them all. There was no questioning where we spent our Christmas and Easter holidays, always meeting at my grandparents’ house. That’s plural because once they moved to Wishek, they lived maybe eight blocks apart. My dad met my mom at his brother’s wedding to my mom’s sister, so I have three double cousins. I thought everyone’s family was fashioned, so we all had the same set of grandparents. I found out that wasn’t true. In college, I learned that not everyone in the state was German-Russian and not everyone was my relative.

The year I was born, Grandma Meidinger insisted on an annual picnic held for more than 50 years religiously on the third Sunday in July. First, the family met at the farm, then at the Wishek park. Let me tell you, the food was phenomenal. Even in the hottest weather, the potluck included fried chicken, homemade sausage, knephla and kraut and desserts of every make and model. One thing about my relatives – food meant love. And, they loved each other a bunch.
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When my mom, her sisters and sisters-in-law got together, the visiting was endless. Like a flock of chickens clucking in the farmyard, they visited up a storm. Perhaps you guess why words spill from my mouth in the rapid-fire fashion they do. To this day, when I meet up with one of my many cousins – somewhere in the 40-50 range – I have to allow for minimally 30 minutes of catch up. It’s so sad that most of the time, we meet at funerals as the weddings have dwindled to nearly none.

Things change, we change and times change. Today, I remember those times, my aunts, my uncles, the food, the laughter, the music in a positive light. I’m very grateful for the Christmas holiday and the memories – the most beautiful memories of the generation that shaped me, nearly gone but never forgotten. Rest in peace, Aunt Luella and say hello to my mom until we meet in heaven.