If You Want to Destroy this Bean Pole

Last week my husband stuck his finger in a tiny hole in his tee shirt, and proceeded to tear it from his body in dramatic fashion. If you know Todd, you are probably picturing a Hulk-ish spectacle, but if you know Todd, you are also not surprised when I say it played out more like the Weezer song. We did indeed, hold this thread as he walked away. A long, strange yarn of tee shirt spun from him and I thought "Eureka! Just when I needed some twine!"

You see, my Bean plants are tall--a height betraying their immaturity and the wind was really kicking the crap out them during their "hardening" period. Leaves were ripped from their stems and the plants themselves drooped in depression. These plants were only spending two to three hours outdoors, hence the small pots, but they were clearly not adjusting to the new environment with ease. I desperately tried several supports, binding them to sticks and such, but the little pots would not give purchase.


Lamentation of the Bended Bean
photo: Allison Glasgow

Finally, I consulted the oracle internet...it should be remarked how rarely this occurs to me. I have been computer savy for--uh--upwards of 20 years, mastering a Commodore 64 in the 90's. Yet the bibliophile in me imagines all expertise to be held only in encyclopedic, tangible tomes. Not that I don't love the internet, I just don't think of it. Needless to say, a quick search later I had a very easy, effective strategy, plus an incredible new resource in the form of a square-foot-garden farm blog. Simple, invaluable advice from those who have come before...

http://thewealthyearth.com/how-to-protect-your-corn-from-wind-in-a-square-foot-garden/

The solution appears rather obvious, though I am sure I could not have come up with this on my own. Essentially you build a grid around each individual plant, a buffering wall to butt against but not tip or break. Tee shirt material, while I assume no better than run of the mill twine, is soft and has a fair amount of give, even when taut. There is no chance my beans are going to clothesline themselves on a tee shirt.

Tee-shirt Grid
photo: Allison Glasgow

One week later and limp leaves have woken and sprouted baby greenie-beanie buds!!!!! Yes, multiple exclamations and weird veggie babble needed. I am so excited. Low and behold today in the span of a few hours, there is some sort of mutanty flower-thing springing from the purple and white sprouts. I am so close to my first green bean casserole, I can hardly contain myself. Unfortunately once I graduate to successful farmer, I must also learn to cook said green beans, and perhaps even learn to enjoy them. Baby steps. Baby greenie-beanie mutant buddy baby steps.

Like the Beans, my son Sam is exceptionally tall. People often mistake him for older and therefore more mature, but Sam is three. Barely out of diapers and already I see the barrel chest and large square feet of his Daddy. Like the Beans, assuming he was ready, I introduced him without proper hardening to a new environment--school.

Lucas and Sam
photo: Marrisa Senteno

He has been attending an education-based daycare at my college for about three months now. He goes three days a week and the study time it provides me is essential. From what I can see it is a great place, large staff of teachers and resources, and a rotating gang of very enthusiastic education students attending to the kids.

But Sam is struggling. He often cries, a sad, foreign cry that I had never experienced. Babies and toddlers cry. They cry in need, in pain and in frustration, but the preschooler sob of genuine sadness is a new phenomenon I just can't steel against. It seems so wrong to muse happy and confident as suggested by the teachers, leaving him tear-streaked and lip-quivering on a brightly colored carpet square. When I come to get him, a mere three hours later, I might find him just standing in the room, staring. He resists engagement and he has made no friends with the quite charmed and kind children he shares a class with, despite my efforts to teach him their names and speak to them with him in tow. It is not because they don't like him, in fact each little girl lines up to hug him each day as he readies to go home, but he remains friendless. Outside of school, Sam is funny, independent, and charismatic, but his school-insecurity now carries itself to the playground when he is not accompanied by a trusted friend, like Lucas. This worries me because New York City public schools loom in our near future. If Sam cannot find enrichment in a small group with attentive and supportive teachers, I fear he might not thrive in the overcrowded classrooms of Queens. While I have tooled around search-engines on school blues, ultimately there is no Wikipedia page on Sam. He is brand new, unwitnessed. Wise offerings from friends and family, coupled with Todd and my own insecure intuition must be good enough to harden my sweet little dude without injury. Just the words themselves hurt my heart. Any friendly advice on buffering lonesome little boys would be greatly appreciated.