A Moral Quandary

2^nd Use From a 'harmless' carney game to a lesson in life responsibility

My family has within our animal menagerie a number of aqua specimens. None were acquired by my wish, but at the time seemingly accidental, and all were adopted through carnival games.

We now have 2 gold fish and a yellow frog.

Our first aquatic ward was Cookie, a goldfish my daughter Maura won at the age of four at my wife’s work place during their ’Family Halloween Party’. I wasn’t concerned when Maura walked up to the carny-like table with flashy colored local grocery store type table cloth with bright colored water-filled glasses, and was handed a determinant number of ping pong balls. I thought the odds were 1/ 1000 she would win the grand prize—a feeder quality goldfish. We won—hurray—now I have a bait fish’s life to try and care for. I was committed to care for this fish by my early learning that every life is precious; I took this new charge very serious.

Maddie and Maura In costume, the day Maura won Cookie. Photo by Michael Fulks.

As dad, I am sage--all knowing of what is right and wrong, or so I was taught growing up.  I do think it is important as a father to be extra vigilant of accountability in my actions. My life actions are an example for my children; my wife taught me that children mimic our actions and to some extent find their life paths through parental actions, not through parental verbal commands or doctrine. She is right, always.

It has now been four years and three aquarium upgrades at about $900 to care for Cookie, and later to come company. I must admit I do feel success when visitors say, "Wow that is a huge goldfish." I feel like I am doing something right in that Cookie is thriving. 

Left to right: Marmalade the frog, Cookie and Scales the goldfish

 

Then my daughter Sarah was gifted a super Wally store frog from my other daughter, Annie. Knowing sisters, I am sure there was a fair amount of begging to get this frog. I rescued it from a teacup in a windowsill; it has been in the aquarium with Cookie for three years. The frog’s name is Marmalade.

They live well together, and are thriving—getting bigger and bigger in a nice 35-gallon set up. Everything was seemingly stable.

I have been watching, while caring for these animals over the years, and I see their consciousness. I started to feel a bit guilty; and questioning, must they live in such a small confined artificial environment? By having possession of these animals, am I sanctioning the practice of keeping these animals in a captive environment? Am I enabling the small vertebrate animal trade? I rationalize through conditioning; many people with limited resources seem to be quite fine and happy. Who am I to say?

It finally came to a head this year when we went to a county fair in Laramie County Colorado—surprise, surprise, surprise; they have a carnival area with rides and games. Madigan, throwing the same dam ping-pong balls, wins another goldfish and quickly names it Scales. You know if you name an animal then you own it and it becomes your responsibility.

Maddie wins Scales as my wife looks over to me in disbelief.

That’s it; no more ping-pong ball games for vertebrate prizes of any species.  I explained to my little girls that these seemingly harmless games are now prohibited for us. This is my new family law and I am putting my foot down. I explained how we would do our best to be responsible for the aqua pets we have in our possession as of now, but we have learned, It just ain’t right and we got to stop.

Photo of a typical tank of feeder goldfish at a pet store.

 

About the Editor

2ndUse From Exploration of a new Medium to Even Greater Admiration

For about 6 years I have been working and studying horticulture as a means of venting my crazy high physical energy and as possibly a form of esthetic expression.  I have always been a cook and enjoyed finding that I am drawn to making food from the dirt up. The surprise was finding that I was using my experiences as an installation artist in the gardens. I voiced to my wife that I would love to re-present my new explorations as art to the public. But I did not feel that the traditional white box of exhibition was a fit for this work.

My brilliant wife suggesting I do a blog. I didn’t jump on the idea right away since I am a bit digitally challenged.  Rebecca, my wife, is an educator. She has been engaged in digital graphics and printing since the beginning when the computer first became a tool for this industry. Her most resent work is in using the digital world to reach people needing or wanting access to education.

Rebecca recommended I take a class at Red Rocks Community College in Intro to Computer Graphics. This new information from the introduction class has opened up an entirely new world for me. With my exposure to the course work and a lot of my wife’s help I have started publishing this blog.  It started as a method to documenting my approach to horticulture, but has opened me up to working with the social media as a medium for my work as an artist.

However I am still not comfortable with my writing skills and I must confess that I do not publish anything without passing it by my editor. So I offer my apologizes in advance for any grammatical errors. This blog entry is an exception and I did not have her look at it. I think that my wife’s modesty would have made her evaluation of this blog quite bias and surely the content of bragging about her would of been toned down.

My wife 'the editor' seen here cleaning out the kids’ trash from the back of the mini-van; and still smiling, I look at this image and think how wonderfully simple love is.

Cloning Goose Berries

2^nd Use Science Project to Daddy and Daughter Time

This entry is going to be a bit more DIY, focusing on the cloning of plants. This writing just scratches the surface of the practice but will go through some of the basics.  I think my success was based on, ‘sure am lucky that cultivar of gooseberries my neighbor had was so cooperative.’

I also want to acknowledge the universe that creates opportunities or events that make life worth living. The hard part, for some especially my not so in the pass self, is looking at these events as opportunities rather than chores.

The story starts with my daughter Maura having her first science project. I asked and she conceded to do a horticulture science project and since money was tight and I wanted to plant some bramble, well it just all seemed to fit.

What is cloning plants? To the best of my understanding it is the taking of genetic-containing tissue, such as stem or twig, in order to create another plant identical to the DNA donor or parent plant. This practice, on the level of my approach, is more specifically referred to as vegetative propagation. Whereas a higher technology approach in cloning generally refers to the taking of a small tissue sample from the parent plant to reproduce the new genetically identical prodigy.

FYI- many plants clone themselves naturally, sending out shoots for new vegetation such as bramble or the aspen tree, which is on record for being the largest single living organism on the planet. That is why cloning is a relatively simple process—it is of nature.

I referred to http://www.biotechnologyonline.gov.au/biotec/cloneplant.html

So here is the DYI of it.

First thing needed is some research on the species you want to propagate from cuttings. Some variations are simple to propagate and you simply cut a bit of the plant off and put it in glass water until roots develop and then transplant to the new home. My approach to gooseberries was a bit more complex, not sure it needs to be?

First we needed to find a pot and, since they were previously used, we made sure it was clean and sterile. To sterilize the pots to prevent fungus, virus, bacteria and other damaging microbes, I used a sprayer with 1:9 parts chlorine bleach to water. First we washed the pots and then sprayed all the surfaces and allowed them to totally dry outside for ventilation. You see, chlorine solution is poison and therefore kills microbes but evaporates and leaves no residue. I like to limit my exposure as much as possible to poison so I wear gloves and use it  in a well-ventilated area. I use bleach to sterilize because I come  from a food service background and I think it works. With research you can find several ways to sterilize pots, so choose your own path. 

These are the photos we used for her science project presentation.

From left to right, first Maura washed the recycled pot.  Next she  prepared the growing medium which in this case was a potting soil mix of 1:1 sphagnum moss and horticultural perlite. Finally, she filled the pots and moistened the soil.

We then located the cultivar or parent plant we wanedt to propagate from; in this case it was gooseberries in my neighbors yard. You want the parent plant to be healthy and pest free.

Maura cut a nice healthy twig with clean sharp cutters.

The cuts should be at a 45 degree angle to create more surface area and the cutting or twig should be flexible and showing some signs of vitality as seen in the above photo. Next, cut off the tip of the twig to remove the apical bud as seen in the above photo on the right. This will encourage growth of leaves on the stem.

Then Maura poked a whole in her dirt and dipped the bottom end of the twig in rooting hormone (which I am not sure is even needed in this type of cutting propagation).

She then planted her cutting in the prepared pot about two inches deep.  It is important to bury the stem deep enough so that some of the stem buds, which are located at the juncture where the thorns come out of the stem, are in the soil. This is where the future roots will emerge.

We then just labeled what we did with info of specimen, date, and process. We placed them in the light and kept the soil moist.

The project was a success so in a couple of years we might well end up with some gooseberries, but through the documentation of Maura’s experiment for a school assignment I also documented the growth and development of another experiment in propagation—my beautiful daughter 1 year later—thank the wacky universe. 

 

Maura with gooseberries 1 year later. She loves her Daddy.

The Lawn

2^NdUse From Turf Management to A Field of Dreams

I went through my teens and early adulthood during the 70’s and 80’s.  I was the oldest and given the responsibility of the family lawn—it felt like a punishment. I think this was due to the fact that my family had a push lawnmower and a corner lot, my dad had a bad back, and I was the only one strong enough to cut the weed-infested non-vital lawn—weekly. I had no training or understanding of how you make grass grow. I was aware of the conventions of what is good turf; being a hyper green lush grass carpet; this value was of course dependent on petroleum-sustaining practices now common in horticulture. FYI, we did not ‘blend’ with the neighborhood.

When Rebecca and I moved into our home in 2001, the lawn was a thistle and bindweed bonanza. I had to do something about the lawn. I wanted a patch of grass that would make up for the shame I had experienced growing up.

To be honest, I sucked at conventional bluegrass lawns, so I did a lot of research and discovered alternatives.

I approached my experimental lawn very seriously. First, I had to find the right cultivar that would thrive in this hot, clay soil—an arid environment with lows in the winter to minus 20. I decided upon a new buffalo grass turf as the answer. I then followed the recommendations given by the supplier of the seed, Stock Seed Farms , that gave me the information needed to created an environmental structure that would support this particular cultivar. I installation an irrigation system and creating a welcoming seedbed for planting. This was quite the investment but no different then the investment needed for a conventional bluegrass culture.

It took a good 3 years to establish the lawn.

There was a surprise to this experimental lawn that I didn’t expect. It was the feelings I had when I first saw my children playing in my lawn. Now the lawn is a playground out my kitchen window. I remember my mother’s wish that she voiced to me when I helped her in the kitchen growing up. She dreamed of having a playground outside her kitchen window so she could watch her kids and grand kids play while preparing another meal.

Bluegrass, even though it greens early in spring because it is a cold season grass, pretty much dies out mid-summer in our area when the weather gets hot and dry. Often it will recover a bit in the fall when temperatures drop and precept increases. Bluegrass requires about 3 more inches a month and a great deal of nitrogen fertilizer. This cultivar grows so aggressively that experts recommend mowing it twice a week.

 The non-convention of buffalo grass lies in that it is a hot season grass, which means it starts greening later in season and goes dormant early. It has a more sage green in color, which I quite like. Buffalo grass is not a fan of a great deal of nitrogen fertilizers. And if you are okay with some stamens on the top of the grass you do not have to mow it because its mature height is only 6”. My wife and I have decided we like the look of a more manicured lawn. I must admit that during the height of its growing season, for about a month and a half, I mow it weekly. But during the majority of the season I can go as long as three weeks. The other advantage to buffalo grass growth rate is that I can garnish the lawn through naturalized techniques by planting some crocus, tulips, daffodils, and iris for spring color. This is because these fall bulb plants can go through there complete growth cycle before I have to mow.

But our grass is out of synchronicity with the rest of the neighborhood. Even sow, pun intended, I feel no shame. I love my lawn. Because what matters is that the lawn makes a great place to run barefoot. I am realizing my mom’s dream through my kitchen window. I watch my kids play. My hope is that my children’s experience of play in this grass is stored in their dreams to be replayed over and over again.

View from my kitchen window of Maddie and Maura dancing barefoot in the lawn