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Well, I just enrolled Ana in kindergarden.
One of my more sensible complaints about this whole "school" business (and whoever heard of such an outlandish idea!) is that our zoned school is consistently one of the lower-performing schools in the city. I don't know many people who came out of that school with anything like a decent education (I'm not naming names, but some of them are functionally illiterate), and to get there we have to cross a busy intersection.
About the only thing that is in that school's favor is that it's relatively near us, but it's not *that* close, like a ten minute walk. (And that intersection! Ye gods.) Probably just a smidge too close for bus service, though.
But then we found out that the school building nearer to us has been renovated and they're putting a new school in! Ana could literally walk to this place alone (not that she will, but when she gets older, maybe?), and everybody seems to have heard great things about this school's teachers and mission and whatnot.
And she's in! Just like that.
Buuuuut... the forms had to be filled out. And I had to trek out, not to the local school that's only two blocks away, but to Petrides.
Petrides is a great school. Everybody wants to get into Petrides. Petrides is also as confusing as hell, and filled with the most soul-crushing architecture I have ever seen. If bureaucracy could rise and take solid form, it would look like Petrides Educational Complex. No joke.
So I slip in through a gap in the fence (leaving, even the teachers told me to go out that way, so I'm guessing that's actually allowed) and find my way to building A. (There are approximately five zillion buildings there. At least, up to the letter J, and most likely more than that.)
Fill out the forms (excepting parental signatures, which will wait for orientation), and head out.
After getting lost, and leaving, and finding somebody to turn me around the right way, I decided to just walk down to Victory. (Jenn's old apartment was near Petrides, actually, but it's a pain to get from there to there, lots of busy crossings in the way.) And while I'm walking down the street, and looking at the hill rising up on my side, I see the most wonderful thing.
Raspberries
Delicious, ripe, not too firm (like the ones everybody does insist on trying to grow - we're on our third failed crop in the past decade!) or too soft (like the ones you get in supermarkets); not too sweet (supermarkets) or too tart (gardens) - just perfect.
I picked, and I picked, and I picked. Did I mention I hadn't had breakfast? Jenn had woken me up while I was busy oversleeping (it was a good dream for a change. I'd just found a million dollars in a chair, and nobody wanted to take it from me), so I ate, and I ate, and I ate, until my stomach was full.
Then I found some more berries and ate some more :)
Now, I know nobody will ever notice (or even care) if I go in and do some quick gardening. So my question is....
Do raspberries grow well from cuttings?
How about seeds? How many berries would I need to pick, and when would I plant the seeds?
About the only thing that is in that school's favor is that it's relatively near us, but it's not *that* close, like a ten minute walk. (And that intersection! Ye gods.) Probably just a smidge too close for bus service, though.
But then we found out that the school building nearer to us has been renovated and they're putting a new school in! Ana could literally walk to this place alone (not that she will, but when she gets older, maybe?), and everybody seems to have heard great things about this school's teachers and mission and whatnot.
And she's in! Just like that.
Buuuuut... the forms had to be filled out. And I had to trek out, not to the local school that's only two blocks away, but to Petrides.
Petrides is a great school. Everybody wants to get into Petrides. Petrides is also as confusing as hell, and filled with the most soul-crushing architecture I have ever seen. If bureaucracy could rise and take solid form, it would look like Petrides Educational Complex. No joke.
So I slip in through a gap in the fence (leaving, even the teachers told me to go out that way, so I'm guessing that's actually allowed) and find my way to building A. (There are approximately five zillion buildings there. At least, up to the letter J, and most likely more than that.)
Fill out the forms (excepting parental signatures, which will wait for orientation), and head out.
After getting lost, and leaving, and finding somebody to turn me around the right way, I decided to just walk down to Victory. (Jenn's old apartment was near Petrides, actually, but it's a pain to get from there to there, lots of busy crossings in the way.) And while I'm walking down the street, and looking at the hill rising up on my side, I see the most wonderful thing.
Raspberries
Delicious, ripe, not too firm (like the ones everybody does insist on trying to grow - we're on our third failed crop in the past decade!) or too soft (like the ones you get in supermarkets); not too sweet (supermarkets) or too tart (gardens) - just perfect.
I picked, and I picked, and I picked. Did I mention I hadn't had breakfast? Jenn had woken me up while I was busy oversleeping (it was a good dream for a change. I'd just found a million dollars in a chair, and nobody wanted to take it from me), so I ate, and I ate, and I ate, until my stomach was full.
Then I found some more berries and ate some more :)
Now, I know nobody will ever notice (or even care) if I go in and do some quick gardening. So my question is....
Do raspberries grow well from cuttings?
How about seeds? How many berries would I need to pick, and when would I plant the seeds?
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Get some good thick gardening gloves, though. Those plants bite hard! Well, they have sharp thorns-a-plenty, but they might as well be millions of little teeth chomping into your hand and not letting go.
no subject
no subject
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Get some good thick gardening gloves, though. Those plants bite hard! Well, they have sharp thorns-a-plenty, but they might as well be millions of little teeth chomping into your hand and not letting go.
no subject
no subject