Homesteader turned Gardener, Landscaper, Horticulturalist, Arborist and Greenhouse Manager. Writer,Potter and Artist. Mom, Grandma, and other half. Rider of bikes, horses and kayaks. Hiker, Swimmer and Storyteller.
I have collected dryer lint for many years. For 8 years I worked at a USDA plant disease research facility where we had to shower out of the containment greenhouses. I washed loads and loads of white fluffy towels every day and a lot of lint gets trapped on the screen. I figured I might as well save it to make paper out of someday. That day has arrived.
I initially thought to make fancy craft paper but that project has never made it to the top of my list. Then I began setting up my grow bench in the garage to grow fresh spinach during the winter. I am also starting other salad greens and assorted veggies and flowers for spring planting. I already grow wheat fodder in the basement for the chickens and it seemed a natural progression to grow microgreens for us under my lighted, heated set up in the garage.
I researched microgreen growing on the internet, wading painfully through some way-too-long You Tube videos and digging around on seed and supply sites. I decided, as with most projects, I would rather come up with my own cheaper version of what they are selling out there. I collect all kinds of useful junk, horticultural and otherwise, and a look around my sheds, closet and garage can usually provide the goods I need.
I grow wheat fodder, which is sprouts allowed to grow into small lawns, in plastic kitchen dish pans with drain holes drilled in the bottoms. Wheat is a big seed and only a few sometimes get stuck in the holes.
Chicken Fodder Bins
Kale, radish, amaranth, lettuce and broccoli are much smaller seeds and need a way to stay moist while not falling through their drainage tray.
Seed quilts, absorbent cellulose mats, can be purchased, but they are expensive and the seeds already cost plenty. I decided to make my own seed quilts using the dryer lint stockpile.
Making paper seed quilts is easy and you can use just about anything that is compost-able, which is where it will finally end up. Newspaper, leaves, dried chopped grass, dryer lint, etc. can all be used to make and these absorbent paper mats, which are much thicker than papertowels. I am thinking that using some dried horse manure might work and it would add some built-in fertilizer. This would require a dedicated blender, and not my kitchen tools.
How to Make Seed Quilts
You will need: One wooden frame to staple window screen onto and an optional second frame to keep edges cleaner, and a plastic washtub big enough to immerse the screen with a little spare room for jiggling. I found some cheap picture frames that worked. Ideally, the frame size will match up with the tray size you will plant in.
Screen Frame and Edge Frame and Wet Paper
Soak about a cubic foot of dryer lint in a bucket and soak an hour
Scoop 3-4 handfuls of soggy lint into a blender and add water to fill line
Blend on medium for 1-2 minutes
Blender Full of Lint
Dump into the washtub and repeat until it has all been blended
Stir the soggy mess
Hold the edge frame on top of the screen frame
Slide the screen down under the surface of the mush and lift, keeping screen level
Pressing Water Out Through Screen
Clean up edges with your fingers and press palm down on screen to expel water
Turn upside down onto fabric covered towel
Seed Quilt On Drying Towel/Fabric
Refill screen and repeat
For thick, absorbent paper, lay flat and air dry
For thinner paper, cover with fabric and towel and press with rolling pin
To speed drying, lay flat on racks near heat source. I laid them in open grid type seedling flats on a heat mat to dry
Drying Seed Quilts on Open Grid Flats Set on Bottom Heat
When ready to plant, lay the quilt on an elevated grid in the seed tray. The store bought kits use a plastic grid about a half inch tall. Maybe a paint roller grid would work. I will use the open grid tray inside of a 1020 hole less plant tray. You want to lift the quilt above the water in the tray and be able to water the bottom, not the greens.
Saturate the quilt and sow seeds evenly on top. I will be measuring to see what the right amount is and will be planting Kale for my first crop. Too thick and they will grow mold. Cover loosely with a dome or plastic sheet until you see sprouting.
Set trays on planting heat pad set at 68F. Heat depends on particular seeds needs, as does light. Once they germinate, turn the lights on with a timer for 12 -16 hours per day. I use T-12 fluorescent fixtures that I have recycled. Hang them about 8 inches above the tiny plants. You can use LED lights but you will need the blue and red spectrum, which my eyes cannot stand to be around.
I was listening to National Public Radio yesterday and an interview with a big mid-western farmer. This guy grows the same rotation of crops as many of our local, much smaller farmers do. Soybeans in the spring, wheat in the fall, corn the next spring. Over and over and over again. No deviation. Sure, they might have some fields in permanent pasture or hay, but that is basically it. Not much diversity there.
The farmer they were talking with plants 5000 acres using the soy, wheat, corn rotation and as usual, ordered next seasons seed last year, to the tune of a million and a half dollars. He is locked in to planting those soybeans this spring. The problem is that China, the largest buyer of United States soybeans, will not be buying our soybeans next year. This is in retaliation of the tariffs Trump has put on steel and many other imported Chinese goods. We are in the midst of a trade war which will probably be getting much worse. China has been smart and working on just this scenario for many, many years. They plan long term, unlike our country. Where have all the steel mills gone that we used to have in this country? China. What are all our cars and trucks and SUV’s made of? Chinese steel. Poor quality Chinese steel. Toyota recently had, yet another recall of SUV’s and Pickup trucks, assembled in America, but made of Chinese steel, because the frames had rusted clear through and were seriously dangerous.
If we get into an actual military war with the Chinese, what will we make our war machines with? Chinese steel? Think again. They have us right where they want us, dependent on them for goods we used to make ourselves. Cheap labor in China lured most of our manufacturing over to them and now we depend on China, and other countries, for many indispensable things. We cannot easily rebuild our steel mills and return to supplying our own high quality steel. How will we repair our bridges without U.S. steel? This has nothing to do with the unions, it has to do with the greed of the companies who moved out of our country, who do not want to pay taxes to help our country, who do not care if our own countrymen even have jobs. Our corporate tax laws and loopholes have enabled this to happen. Our banking industry has enabled this to happen. We are at the mercy of greedy corporations and now we are at the mercy of China and other foreign powers.
Back to the farmers who are locked in to growing soybeans for a non-existent market. The price of soybeans is bound to fall drastically with a glut of unsold beans waiting in silos. Russia has already announced that they will gladly supply China with their soybeans next year, so we can forget about getting that buyer back, even if the trade war were to end.
American farmers have become the latest business that is too big to fail. Just like the banks back in 2008. Are we now going to bail them out with our tax dollars? The farmer being interviewed did not seem to have any creative ways of dealing with his problem. He is so big, and so used to relying on the government telling him what to plant, insuring him against crop failures, subsidizing lime and fertilizers and farm improvements, that he no longer plans for himself. Every decision he makes is tied to cost sharing and the futures market and whatever the big agro seed and chemical companies are pushing. This is no way to farm.
Farmers need to be flexible, basing their decisions on weather, markets, soil health and the peoples needs, not blindly planting the same old crops every year because that is what they have always done. A good farmer looks at all the variables and weighs the cost of seed and planting and harvesting against what the market will buy. These big farmers seem to have lost their natural insight. Smaller farmers live somewhat closer to local market changes and have to scramble year to year to make their crops pay for them to stay in business. They have to be creative and come up with specialty crops that might bring in more money, even though there is more risk. Organic farmers practice this way of life and change their plantings based on what people want to buy each year, a market that is constantly changing. They work on improving the soil and therefore the health of their crops without having to rely so much on government subsidies. They also supply us with healthier food, not chemically laden food that endangers our health. We need to learn the true cost of raising healthy food and be willing to pay accordingly.
Our government agricultural programs have gotten so large and powerful that many farmers do not even try to plan for themselves anymore. They rely on the government to insure they do not go under, even if they make bad business decisions. They plant the latest genetically modified Round Up Ready seeds, then spray Glyphosate on our food crops, and pretend it is all healthy and good for us. It is dangerous to give up your individual power and allow the government and agro corporations to decide what you should plant and what the best management practices are. We will all be paying the price with our health down the road. Multi-thousand acre farming operations, heavily in debt, and dependent on bureaucratic subsidy programs, are not run with an understanding of the connections between soil health, plant health and human health. They are run as a big business. People need to return to thoughtful planning and being responsible for their own destiny.
Wendy lee, writing at Edgewise Woods, Gardens and Critters
In Bed with the Dog
Sofie is a misfit designer dog, a cross between a Bassett Hound and some kind of wire haired terrier. She has the short legs and big feet, the knock kneed Plie (ballet) stance and can howl and bay if she really feels the need, which is thankfully, not very often. She got shortchanged in the ear department though. Her ears are the only smooth haired part of her and they droop but they are not very long. We chose her at the local shelter to keep Raster, our now deceased, border collie mix company while I was away at work all day. The pair of them were supposed to guard the chickens and keep the deer out of the yard but they tended to wait patiently on the porch when we were here waiting for us to yell,
“Get ‘em! Get the deer. “ or
“Chickens! Get the fox!”
It is possible they chased critters away while we were gone but I kind of doubt it. Still, they were good dogs. They spent good weather days wandering around outside on about 4 fenced acres and were always glad to see us. That is the best thing about dogs. They love you no matter what you might say to them. Our dogs always come inside with us and they’ve claimed their space on the floor near the woodstove or right up on the couch. Never on the human bed though. Well, only when the grandkids sleep over. We banned them from our room long ago because they snored worse than we did.
Sofie is lonely now that Raster is gone and gets way too excited when we have company. She loves kids and never gives up hope that everyone she sees will love her back. Being so short makes her have to jump up to get attention though and no one likes that.
This weekend we are hosting a couple of musicians from Canada with their year old son and a friend to help with babysitting. They are teaching at the 14th annual Fiddlers Retreat, put on by Shepherdstown Music and Dance, and last night they helped kick it off with a great concert. The baby slept through their act bundled on his mama’s back while she stood tall and fiddled numerous tunes for us. It was pretty impressive. They all stayed late jamming and did not arrive at our house until about midnight.
I stayed up reading so I could greet them and as soon as Sofie heard their car doors, she was wide awake. So was the baby. Sofie has a terrible habit of jumping on people for attention and it was difficult to calm her down. She loves kids, or anyone who will pet her. No one really wanted to deal with her though so I locked her upstairs in our bedroom in an attempt to restore calm. We really needed to get some sleep but it took about an hour and a half for everyone to settle in for the night.
Meanwhile, Sofie had persuaded Jeff to allow her on the bed- just to keep her from whining. She spent the whole night with us and will be doing the same tonight. She obviously does not mind at all and the only snoring I heard was from Jeff, who is fighting a cold and keeping himself away from our guests.
Once winter finally decides to arrive, and the woodstove is cranking again, the living room will be a much warmer place to sleep and she will have the whole couch to herself and probably won’t even want to sleep with us. Having a dog in my bed is not a long term thing for me. It is only for 2 nights. I would have to give her way more baths, for one thing, and it is crowded enough with two of us in there.
My mother has lived in the little neighborhood of Xanadu, near Calloway, just east of Panama City, Florida for about 40 years and she loves it. Many of the residents are retired military, since it is near Tyndall Air Force Base, and they are friendly and look out for each other. Her husband passed away almost a year ago so she has been transitioning to being even more independent and trying to enjoy the process these past few months.
At 88, my mother leads a full and creative life. This summer she got back into her oil painting by giving twice weekly lessons to the neighbor girl, Zoe, who is just 9 years old. The two of them had so much fun that once school started back they continued their painting time on Sundays. On Wednesdays she meets with other seniors at the local community center and takes part in Tai Chi, dance exercises, lunch and visiting. Friday brings the Encore continuing education classes at the Community College, a program she was instrumental in planning for many years, which now supplies her with intellectual stimulation and camaraderie. At home, the covered and heated lap pool and her garden complete her peaceful and calm life.
She still drives with confidence so is able to go wherever she needs and shops at the commissary at Tyndall Air Force base regularly, getting a Philly Cheese Steak once a week. She eats out at Appleby’s and Olive Garden and local seafood places, making a second meal of the leftovers she brings home. She carries a cane sometimes, but doesn’t always need it. She loves to go on cruises and went to Alaska this summer, with two trips planned this winter, one in the Caribbean and one that will travel through the Panama Canal and then up to California.
Mom and Stan, her late husband, have weathered many storms and hurricanes while living in the Florida panhandle. Their small brick rancher has roll down hurricane shutters, which they had installed many years ago, after deciding that evacuation was too stressful for them. The Base sits on a barrier island that protects their area from storm surges, so although you can see East Bay at the end of their street, flooding has never been a problem.
Then Came Michael
When hurricane Michael first formed in October, glancing by Cuba on its way North into the Gulf, it was not expected to strengthen into a category 4 storm. The weather service was calling for maybe a Cat 3, which people have weathered before. Mom and some of her hardier neighbors planned on staying, hunkering down with the usual emergency supplies of food, water, flashlights and emergency radios. When the storm suddenly grew stronger and aimed right at them there was only a small window of time to rethink that decision. The possibility of being trapped in a traffic jam during a hurricane was much scarier to her than sheltering in her house. She had done it many times, although never totally alone.
Meanwhile, up here in West Virginia, I had not been following the weather down in the Gulf. I was not even aware a hurricane was headed mom’s way until she called on Tuesday, October 10 to tell me she was staying home for it. I looked at the weather predictions on my phone but Mom told me not to listen to the Weather channel, saying,
“The Weather channel always blows things out of proportion in an attempt to scare people into evacuating. Then it turns out to be just a normal storm we can all handle just fine. I listen to the local stations instead.”
Later that day, I looked up the NOAA reports and radar maps and what I saw was alarming. Hurricane Michael had started gaining strength and was aiming for a direct hit on my mother. Back on the phone, she kept telling me not to worry. She had weathered storms before. I tried not to worry. She said her neighbor, Jeff, was staying too, so she would not be alone. I did not realize at the time that he only stayed because she refused to leave.
Wednesday morning came and the storm was steadily gaining strength. It was now a category 4 and about to make landfall. Mom and I were texting back and forth every few minutes as she sheltered alone in her hallway with her emergency supplies and a mattress for cover. The wind was howling and she could hear trees hitting the house. She lost electricity, then the land line went dead. We could no longer use voice on our cell phones, but texting still worked, we were still connected.
Her emergency radio warned of tornadoes and flying debris and told everyone to take cover, NOW. The shutters were shaking, the roof was creaking and the emergency radio had gone off the air. She heard the aluminum pool roof tear apart and blow away and the wind sounded like a jet engine at full throttle. She texted,
“I’m terrified! I have never heard anything like this noise before. I am so scared.
We are in the eye wall.
Lp….”
I did not hear from her for 58 minutes and I was frantic. I was getting no answers to my texts and I was afraid she was gone. I was in a panic. Lp? Does that mean help?! I could not even pretend to be useful from this far away.
I paced, I worried, and finally, after what seemed like forever, I got another text. From her neighbor. She was OK. He was OK. They were in the eye of the storm, that small circle of calm just before the wind shifts and the other side of the storm gets you. He was able to get outside and across the street to my moms and talk to her through the downed trees blocking her door. She was Ok. He had to get back inside before the second eye wall hit. Then we lost all cell connection. I was worried sick and unable to function. I kept trying to text both her and her neighbor, but got nothing back.
All this time my husband kept sending me graphics of the extremely low pressure readings and radar pictures of the eye sitting directly over my mother’s house. This was not helping my state of mind. The radio here was saying that the weather stations blew apart at 100 MPH and that the winds were likely over 155 MPH, maybe a category 5. The second eye wall hit, even worse than the first, and I kept texting, Are you Ok?
After a couple more hours, Mom managed to get a brief cell signal and texted that she was Ok. Her neighbor Jeff, had chain sawed enough limbs off the house to get her out and the other neighbors were checking in with each other as they wandered around in shock. All the trees were down, shingles and metal roofing panels had peeled off and blown away, some roofs were just rafters, others had whole sections of house missing. Windows had blown in and broken, power poles were leaning or had snapped clear off and electric lines hung twisted up everywhere. Fences lay strewn about, the roads were blocked, but everyone seemed to be OK. They had survived, even if some of their homes had not.
Grateful to be alive, they starting pulling the debris away from their homes, sweeping nails and broken glass out of the way, assessing the damage. It was obvious there would be no power for a long time. No well water, no air conditioning, no power tools, no refrigeration. Everything in the freezers would be lost after a few days. Those who had them, dug out their gasoline powered generators and were able to plug in a few things. They had all prepared as usual for a few days without power, with water jugs, flashlights, batteries, radios, and camp stoves. They were not prepared for weeks without power.
My mother was camping out during the day with her neighbor, Jeff, who’s Airstream camper had survived. He had a generator and a fan, she brought her coffee pot. They ate steaks and the best goods from her freezer as they melted. The daytime temperature was up in the 90’s, and it was not raining. At night she took her flashlight and slept in her dark hot, house.
Mom assured me I did not need to come down, but I talked to the neighbor, who sent me horrific pictures of the devastation in the neighborhood. Her house was all electric and had no power, no water, no air conditioning. It was 95 degrees during the day and not cooling off much at night. There were holes in the roof. She could not stay there. She said she could drive the 6 hours to my sister’s house, taking all her important papers and things, on Sunday, after the insurance adjuster came out. My sister was away and would not be back until the following week.
Then her neighbor called and told me he had taken her for a drive after a path was cleared on the road. He and Mom were so upset by the ruined homes that they had to pull off and just sat in the truck together, crying. It was unbelievable, the devastation.
There was no way she could pack up and make that drive alone. I booked the last seat on a flight for Sunday morning into Orlando, since the Beaches Airport was only open for emergency equipment and first responders. I would drive from Orlando with my niece and bring Mom back to my sister’s house in her car.
The Drive from Orlando to Panama City
The 2:20 minute flight on Southwest was packed with boisterous people wearing Mickey Mouse ears. My niece, who luckily had a week break from college, met me at the airport in Orlando for our 6 hour road trip over to Panama City. First we had to stop at Lowes and fill the car with bottled water, gas cans, roof tarps and nails, and a tabletop icemaker. When we finally reached I-75N it was crowded with emergency vehicles, police convoys with blue flashing lights, along with power line and tree service trucks. Trailers full of transformers and Rack’em Stack’em type housing quarters for construction workers all vied for position. We got off the busy 4 lane twice to go around the backed up traffic and eventually exited onto I-10 West. We stopped shy of Tallahassee to fill up on gas and ice for the cooler. There would be none available after that.
We turned south onto Route 20 and then Rt 71 and drove down through the little town of Wewahitchka, onto Route 22 West, where we were suddenly surrounded flattened pine trees, stripped of needles and all pointing north. Dodging freshly cut tree tops and all the downed electric poles made it a slow go. Transformers hanging from toppled poles leaned over the road and the sun was quickly going down. We were not going to reach Mom’s before the newly implemented 7:00 p.m. curfew. We started worrying about what we would do if we were turned away at a checkpoint. There was nowhere else for us to go.
Chasing the Sun-Used to be a Forest
The downed trees abruptly changed direction as we drove the long straight road. Convoys of police with flashing blue lights heading the other way paid us no attention. It was creepy driving under power poles held up only by sagging wires, then driving over even more wires snaked across the road. It was full dark now and we could only assume all these lines were dead. The closer we got, the worse it looked. Calloway looked like a war zone. It was horrifying even in the dark, with silhouettes of broken buildings and trees tossed about like trash. It was hard to believe anyone had survived this.
We inched our way up to mom’s house and a small beacon of light emerged from the garage, Mom instantly crying with relief at our late arrival. Jeff came from across the street and after hugs and many thanks for his help, we all toted the ice and gas cans over to his place, where he was cooking us dinner.
Jeff’s Airstream travel trailer, wedged up against his pickup truck, had survived with only a few dents and he was well set up for camping, with a charcoal grill, mini fridge, and a few lights. We ate the last steaks from Moms melted freezer and they enjoyed having ice cubes in their drinks. It was still hot, even with the sun down, and we were glad he had requested we bring the little plug in icemaker because it was obvious the bagged ice in the cooler would not last long.
That night we slept in Moms dark, airless house with sweat rolling down our sides. We remembered the old days when we had no air conditioning and we would sleep in the cool basement or out on the porch in the summer.
Daylight
I woke at first light, grabbed my camera and stepped outside. The backyard was a mess. Trees down everywhere, the pool building torn to shreds and thrown about, all kinds of debris in the pool, the new porch screen ripped off, and the door gone, fences down, roof shingles everywhere.
Mom’s pool building
I went back through the garage to the front and looked up and down the street. Power poles snapped and leaning, roofs totally gone, broken windows, piles of trees and debris, wires laying across the road. I walked down to the end of the street and saw people making coffee on their camp stoves, waiting for the sun to come up and illuminate the wreckage. People were just starting to come back home from where they had evacuated to and survey their damage. The roads had not been opened long. Some people had nothing left to come back to. My Mom was really lucky. Her house and her four closest neighbors had faired better than most. Three of them had gotten new roofs put on in the past few years and they held up better than Mom’s, which was almost due for replacement anyway. She had some holes where trees went through, one corner of the garage roof was missing, and many of the shingles were ripped off, but not much water had come in. The living room ceiling and rug had gotten wet but were dried out already. Down the block though, there were many roofs, both metal and shingle, that were demolished, with major water damage throughout. Entire walls and sections of homes were torn off, leaving everything inside exposed to the weather. Many houses were not livable at all.
I hated to ask anything else of our friend and camping host, but I needed to get up on the roof and get the tarps nailed down before any more rainy weather came. He is the most thoughtful and amazing neighbor, regularly checking on mom, sharing a cup of morning coffee, staying home for her during this hurricane. He is the youngest man in the neighborhood, a Veteran and a retired firefighter, fighting his own battle with cancer these past two years. He offered himself and his chainsaw and I accepted his help. I lopped off the smaller branches and hauled the tree debris out to the road while he cut the big parts. We managed to clear the roof of the magnolia tree before the heat became too much for us and then we sat in the garage drinking ice water. Clouds were starting to form to the south but we were hoping they were not coming this way yet. Tarps would have to wait until the next day.
The 5 plastic woven tarps I had brought were of assorted sizes, blue on one side and dark green on the other. The biggest was 40 x 60 and I was disappointed by how thin they were. Still, it took two of us to spread them out evenly and tack them down with the roofing nails. We did the two ends first, then the porch ell, and finally the center, pulling the tarps tight and having to remove a couple of vents that stuck up too much. The roof was getting hot fast and Jeff’s son was recruited as well. Frequent water breaks were required, which we promptly sweated right back out, but we got it done. For a small house, it sure has a big roof.
Two Month s Later
Now, in online aerial photos, you can still see miles of Blue tarped roofs and huge piles of debris lined up along the roads. Amazingly, electric service has been restored to the houses that survived with an intact service entrance connection. Considering all the giant erector-set-type of high-power lines that I saw toppled, this is amazing. Many, many power crews have worked long days to make this happen. Running water, refrigeration and air conditioning are appreciated more than ever now. The tarps have held up so far and the roofers say it will be a couple more weeks. They keep saying that.
A buyer has been found for the house. Mom does not want to go back. Everything she was used to is gone. A Korean War veteran and his Iraq veteran son, who lost their home to Michael, will move in soon. The Realtor has been really helpful in finding repair people to clean up the mess and fix the house up.
I went back down with my sister and we sorted through everything in the house, giving away everything we could to people in need. Her paintings have been divvied out to friends and neighbors and we each took our share as well. Mom left with two carloads of belongings from my first trip and she wants nothing else. She is staying with my sister outside Orlando, while looking for a CCRC (continuing care retirement community) near her. My resilient mother calls this next step, her 8th life, and is optimistic that there will be new adventures and people to meet. She is a survivor.
The house got the new roof, garage door, sheet rock repairs, the pool cleaned up and fenced, and was turned over to the new owner last week. It all went very fast. It has been only two months.
Her neighbor, Jeff, has also sold his house and is moving closer to family up in Tennessee. We wish him the best and hope to stay in touch.
_The next post will be about our trip to Iceland in September, I promise. Things have gotten sort of in the way.
-Wendy lee, writing at Edgewise Woods, Gardens and Critters
People were just starting to come back home from where they had evacuated to and survey their damage. The roads had not been opened long. Some people had nothing left to come back to. 
My Mom was really lucky. Her house and her four closest neighbors had faired better than most. Three of them had gotten new roofs put on in the past few years and they held up better than Mom’s, which was almost due for replacement anyway. She had some holes where trees went through, one corner of the garage roof was missing, and many of the shingles were ripped off, but not much water had come in. The living room ceiling and rug had gotten wet but were dried out already. Down the block though, there were many roofs, both metal and shingle, that were demolished, with major water damage throughout. Entire walls and sections of homes were torn off, leaving everything inside exposed to the weather. Many houses were not livable at all.
