After spading the next garden plot on Sunday, I went to the home, farm, and auto supply store to get fence posts. It was a madhouse around 12:30 p.m. with families out and stocking up on all kinds of home items. The person ahead of me at the cashier tallied up more than $500 worth of merchandise. Outside in the parking lot, the garden center was set up and like me, people were buying things to use in the garden. I was home alone, so didn’t mind being with people, even if I didn’t know anyone by name.
On the way down, I drove past Walmart and Lowe’s, which both likely carry the fence posts I needed. I would rather shop where I knew one of the principals while I worked there. I held a “retirement job” to earn enough money to fill budget gaps until reaching full retirement age. The job ended during the coronavirus pandemic when I decided the risk was not worth the reward. One of the owners stopped to see me every time he was in town, and sent birthday and holiday cards with a personal note. Big box stores don’t offer that sort of amenity.
It was Mothers’ Day. As I looked for the fence posts I saw several mother-daughter couples filling carts. The reason I felt they were mother-daughters is because of their similar faces combined with an appropriate age difference. Thoughts turned to my own mother.
My last memory of her was walking her casket from the hearse to the grave site next to Father. The ground was uneven and my grip was unsure. I almost tripped and the casket lowered unevenly with the other pall bearers, shifting Mother inside. She was never big on celebrating Mothers’ Day, although I miss being able to pick up the phone and call her.
They didn’t have the size fence posts I needed at the home, farm, and auto supply store. I bought five three-foot ones for tomato cages, but will have to get the four- and five-foot ones elsewhere.
As I headed home across the lakes I felt the garden workday was at an end. Tomorrow looked like another beautiful spring day for progress. Earlier in the day, I wished my spouse a Happy Mothers’ Day and she replied our child sent her a nice note. This trip was about more than garden supplies.
The terms “data center,” “energy,” and “artificial intelligence” get bandied about in the media. It would be good to have a better understanding of what these things mean in the context of the rapid growth of artificial intelligence. Hannah Ritchie sorts through some of this in an article titled, “How much electricity does AI consume?” Read it here.
From what I understand, “data center” does not mean a single thing. For example, when Google signed a long-term contract with NextEra Energy to buy most of the electricity generated from a refurbished nuclear power plant in Palo, Iowa it had specific intentions for use. In multiple public statements it indicated the electricity was to support cloud and artificial intelligence infrastructure. Where exactly the electricity would be used has not been specified, nor is the contract tied to any specific future facility. Likewise, before Duane Arnold Energy Center comes on line in 2029, plans for usage could change.
If one uses artificial intelligence at home, it seems obvious AI is an industry in transition. I have been using various AI tools for about a year, and from a user perspective, the interface and results change often, in some cases daily. By 2029, there could be dramatic changes in both cloud and artificial intelligence process and usage. To use the Google example, what Google thinks it will use this contracted electricity today, may not be what they use it for in 2029 and beyond.
It is often missed that electricity and energy do not mean the same thing. The former is a subset of the latter. For example, when I worked as a consultant in Kentucky, the steel mill which was our customer had predicated its business on the availability of low electricity prices at night to melt scrap metal for their rolling mill. I have experience with a number of corporations that used energy to heat and dry products, forge steel and aluminum, and other industrial uses. That doesn’t mention home heating, automotive, and aviation uses of energy. When we discuss data centers, in terms of energy use, we are speaking of electricity.
A friend’s son works for a major multinational corporation and is working on development of artificial intelligence to support their manufacturing and sales operations. It is a major project involving travel to many countries where the company has a footprint. I expect most large companies are doing similarly. The results of these exploratory efforts will change how they do business, including the fear that AI will replace human workers in large numbers. There are fears and there are actualities and unfortunately we don’t know the latter today.
My point is when talking about data centers, energy and artificial intelligence we must do better than to bandy about terms for which there are better definitions. We should not avoid that discussion but participate actively in it when possible. Doing so meaningfully means knowing about what we bring up. In the case of AI we are discussing electricity.
By my calculations, we passed the last frost and the rest of the garden can go in. If cold temperatures return, I have a banker’s box full of old flat sheets to cover and protect young plants.
Three plots had been planted, leaving four and part of the garlic patch with which to do something. I know one will be exclusively tomatoes, two will be a mix of vegetables, a small plot will be fennel, celery and celeriac, and the last will be some kind of winter squash. A lot of work is finished, and a lot remains before initial planting can be called done.
I planted spinach in the covered row simply to get the tray out of the overcrowded greenhouse. I learned how to use covered rows from my friend Susan while working on her farm. The best parts of a covered row are protection from pests and a controlled environment that enhances normal growth. I bought the hoops from the farm where I worked and the cover from a commercial supplier a number of years ago. If cared for, the cover will last.
Friday, I bought thyme, sage, and chive plants from local farmers I know. These will go under the cover with parsley, cilantro and basil. Once the plants get too tall, I will strip the cover back and let them grow in open air. This process can produce a large herb crop for drying. If there is enough, I will make fresh pesto and freeze some.
At the farm, each herb pot was four dollars. To put that in perspective, I have more than 700 blocks with plants started, or according to this retail value, about $2,800 worth of them. I don’t mind paying full price at the farm because I can leverage their work to get a few things I want but don’t have space in the greenhouse to grow.
I spent a couple of hours weeding garlic. I had hoped to have it mulched with grass clippings by now but there weren’t enough, therefore weeding. Collecting grass clippings was high on my weekend to-do list, yet there really isn’t enough grass to mow yet.
There were some empty spots in the cruciferous vegetable plot so I filled them in from the greenhouse. At this point, I want every spot filled with something. The crop looks healthy thus far.
Saturday was a solid shift in which I planted lettuce and tatsoi in the covered row, cleared off the celery and celeriac plot, and cleared last year’s tomato plot. I salvaged most of the plastic ground cover to reuse and made burn pile #3 for the season.
Burn pile #3.
Sunday morning was spent spading the big plot I cleared. It was a lot of work, yet part of the process of conditioning the soil.
Fourth plot turned over on May 10, 2026.
I wasn’t planning on running so many errands this week. The main one was Monday’s round trip to Des Moines. I had poll worker training at the county seat on Thursday, and a Friday get-together with a friend who just moved back to Iowa. Running errands takes away from gardening, yet is essential to a modern life. Much as I wish for something different from automobile culture, it is what we have in our decision to life in rural Iowa.
It was a good week of preparations. I am looking forward to getting the whole garden in during the next few weeks as we are on the cusp of summer.
In between stints of spading, I took a break in the garage. The addition of the table to the left is making a big difference.
When Governor Kim Reynolds signed Senate File 75 into law on April 11, 2025, the legislative fight gave way to an organized implementation that changed the politics of affected counties. The law requires Johnson, Story, and Black Hawk counties—those with public universities—to shift from at-large to district-based elections for county supervisors, with changes taking effect during the 2026 election cycle. The change is getting real.
Iowa City attorney Jim Larew filed a lawsuit to request a temporary injunction to stop the law. When a district court judge denied the request, the counties got to work implementing the changes as best they could. I live in Johnson County, and some things stand out:
None of the counties refused to implement the law.
Each county used the Legislative Services Agency to draw district maps.
Every supervisor seat is on the ballot in 2026, including supervisors elected two years ago to a four-year term.
There are plenty of candidates for supervisor, especially in Johnson County where there are 14 candidates for 5 supervisor positions.
The highest profile race in Johnson County is between incumbents Rod Sullivan and V Fixmer-Oraiz in District 4. Sullivan is a long-serving progressive supervisor, while Fixmer-Oraiz represents a newer progressive challenge. That race has generated substantial local activism. Neither of them would have had this kind of campaign in the at-large system.
The increase in Johnson County candidate filings is noteworthy. With so many candidates, there is a sense county politics will change dramatically under the district system. That is the hope of candidates like Republican Phil Hemingway, running for county supervisor in his sixth campaign, this time in District 2. According to the May 7, Solon Economist:
Hemingway referred to SF 75 as an opportunity for small towns, like Solon, to not feel overshadowed by Iowa City’s political composition. Rural residents, who are smaller in number, feel diluted by surrounding urban interests. Solon, he said, has a very different political alignment than Iowa City.
I don’t think Hemingway (or the Solon Economist) did the election math. In District 2, where Solon lies, there is a mix of regions: rural, small city, a substantial number of Iowa City proper precincts. There is also the large Newport precinct that behaves like an Iowa City precinct. This doesn’t fit the talking point Republicans who favored Senate File 75 assert—better representation for small cities and rural residents. Based on where Democratic votes are located, the Iowa City precincts in District 2, along with Newport, have enough to determine the general election outcome despite Republican leaning precincts like Lone Tree, Solon, and Big Grove. Regardless of the winner of the three-way District 2 Democratic primary, Hemingway should plan to lose again.
District 2 is the crux of a new politics. The Republican meme about rural voters electing one of their own gives way to the reality that candidates will have to build credibility across an electorate that includes incompatible priorities. The new politics is about building coalitions.
Rural voters may feel frustrated if they expected Senate File 75 to create distinctly rural districts and instead find themselves still electorally tied to Iowa City voters. The biggest question is whether the district system diluted or preserved Iowa City’s influence. This stands out in District 2.
It seems obvious, but voters inside a district won’t vote as a monolith. The coalition a successful supervisor candidate will have to build includes university-affiliated progressives, older liberal homeowners, renters focused on affordability, labor-oriented Democrats, environmental activists, senior citizens, farmers, rural residents, families with school aged children, and more. My point is any candidate who treats “Iowa City” or “rural residents” or “small city folk” as a monolith has signed their candidacy’s death warrant. A successful candidate has to connect rural land use, watershed protection, food systems, road funding, housing growth, affordable housing, and taxes with the same needle and thread.
The better question for candidates is how do they build a coalition that actually decides turnout? The answer is far more nuanced than the original legislative debate over Senate File 75 suggested. Things are getting real as early voting starts at the Johnson County Auditor’s office on May 13.
When the legislature adjourned sine die at 7:08 p.m. last Sunday, the governor responded with a press release hitting my inbox at 7:12 p.m., proclaiming the 2026 session was a success. Long story short, “Republicans are delivering big for Iowans,” Governor Reynolds asserted in a statement. If you believe that, stand on your head.
Republican governance has been so bad, they even passed a law to hobble Reynolds’ replacement, assuming it will be Democrat Rob Sand. They tried this before with Sand as auditor and with Attorney General Tom Miller. The efficacy of this move is wearing thin.
Water quality is such a compelling issue in Chris Jones’ campaign for Secretary of Agriculture, Republicans passed a do-nothing water quality bill in the last week of session. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Republicans are on the run.
For now, the rhythm of Iowa politics shifts, trading the urgency and headlines of floor debate for something quieter but consequential. The June 2 primaries are upon us. The relative quiet of this coming month is not inactivity so much as a change in where and how politics happens.
Campaigns are no longer ramping up—they are knuckling down. Instead of large, highly publicized events, they focus on smaller gatherings: county meetings, fundraisers, informal meet-and-greets. Messaging becomes more targeted. Endorsements, local networks, and turnout operations take priority over broad visibility. Much of the real work happens in conversations rather than speeches—in living rooms, community events, and local party circles. Organizing for the election becomes more granular.
In the Republican primary, all eyes are on the governor’s race to see if any of four other candidates can beat Randy Feenstra. All five are serious candidates as far as that is possible for a Republican, far to the right of average Iowans. Rob Sand’s clear path to the general election put’s him in a better position with each passing week as Republicans jockey for position and votes.
I wrote about the Democratic primary races here. The most interesting of those are the county supervisor races under the new system Republicans put in place in three counties with a regents university. My sense is that regardless of what the current Johnson County board of supervisors has done recently, the election is a jump ball, not governed by logic or reasoning, but a desire for something new. From where I sit, the electorate is preoccupied with other things, such as making financial ends meet under Republican governance.
It is not too late to get involved with a primary campaign in a race important to you. My advice is don’t let the quiet lull you into inaction. Too much is at stake in November and the race to the general begins in earnest on June 2.
Once or twice a year, my spouse visits her sister in Des Moines. That means, at least in part, I have the house to myself for a week or so, and can cook how I want—more meals that include capsaicin in its varied forms. During these times, I seek to better bind my activities with intent, simplify them, and break existing habits by changing the daily, physical markers that prompt them. If possible, I would re-invent my regimen. That may be a lot for a week.
A primary consideration is that while home alone, everything has new rules. Rules regarding noise, kitchen activities, and access to the washer and dryer. We get along on these topics most of the time, yet I cut loose during the absences: I got caught up on laundry by day two! I made a spicy version of rice and greens! This time there is more intent on my part during our period of separation.
The house is quiet when I wake, so I can walk to the kitchen for a drink of water in my underwear. I’ve been able to move my morning reading to the living room when during normal conditions, she is using it. I frequently wonder what she is doing, then recall she is not here. It is another aspect of breaking set habits. It is surprising how much depends upon her physical presence.
On what was a “normal day,” everything was structured around productivity blocks and task completion. During this retreat, I don’t want a lighter version of that. A different process is at work with fewer work switches, fewer obligations, and more sustained, intentional engagement with one thing at a time. Less planning and more doing. I break loose from the compartments of reading, chores, errands, food prep and writing that occupied my active mind.
Food is a large part of a retreat. Two days after she was gone, I decided to have a two-day fast during which I limited caloric intake, and structured meals so there are more fruits and vegetables in the morning along with two main meals at lunch and dinner. The idea was to stick with the caloric limits, the hope being to help my body with digestion and maintenance.
During a retreat things naturally settle into a pattern. I resist that. I wake early, read in the living room, exercise, then spend long uninterrupted stretches in the garden. By afternoon my clothes are stained with with soil and sweat. The rhythm of digging, planting, and weeding replaces the compartmentalized routines that usually govern the day. Tasks that once felt separate — cooking, watering, reading, laundry, writing — begin to fold into one another.
Habits become visible when I am alone. When the dishes are done before bedtime, I see the empty sinks in the morning and feel ready to fill them again. Unawares, I notice how often I expect to hear another person moving through the house, or delay entering a room because I assume it is occupied. It reveals how much of ordinary life is built from quiet interactions and repeated physical cues rather than conscious decisions.
By the end of the week, I doubt I will have reinvented myself. I will be thankful for the brief chance to examine my life while habits loosened. Retreat enables me to eat differently, work differently, move differently through the house, and remember that habits are not permanent fixtures so much as paths worn into the carpet by repetition. Some days I want to vacuum it all up and start over.
I wake in the middle of the night with the sun well positioned below the horizon. What light exists comes from stars, the moon, airglow, or the indirect light of nearby never-sleeping cities. I am awake, but don’t want to be.
Sometimes I get up and walk to the kitchen for a drink of water, then stand at the French door, looking at the sky. By now Earth is turning toward light as the sky begins to lose its blackness. Below the horizon, shapes blend into a singular darkness. Above, stars and planets are still visible. Light has begun to penetrate, thinning the darkness.
Our child called it “blue thirty:” the point where sunlight begins to dominate the sky. The sky is briefly a dark shade of blue. They noticed this while camping and taught me to look for it. The silhouettes of grounded objects emerge from darkness, becoming recognizable forms.
Now I want to turn on lights and wake. The horizon has become readable, and the urge to create something is present at nautical twilight. I make coffee and go to my writing place.
After donning hiking shoes, I walk toward the state park trail at first light. From obscuring darkness, the day takes shape in colors—greens, browns, and blues. It begins in semi-darkness with loud migrating birds—geese in late winter and songbirds in spring. Bird sounds surround me as I pick up the pace to increase my heart rate. I can see the trail changing from dark to light at my feet.
The sky puts on a show as dawn breaks. In pinks, reds, and golds, refracting sunlight makes the sky dance as an artist paints a canvas. Dawn arrives in colorful glory.
By the time I round the turn toward home, the sun rises. Direct light illuminates the trail, with long shadows of trees, bushes and other vegetation. The day has become clear—with things to do.
As I finish the turn, I feel my pulse and walk toward the rising sun.
Bok choy and mizuna were outgrowing the germination tray so I harvested instead of planting them. Along with containers of arugula growing in the kitchen, I have three cups of four kinds of fresh greens: the first harvest of the season. I enlisted artificial intelligence to suggest a dish featuring them.
The goal is to make a warm, one-bowl meal.
Of the options presented by the chat-bot, I picked a rice-based dish. One cup uncooked white rice to allow the flavor of the greens to show. My standard rice preparation is to use homemade vegetable broth to cook the rice.
For protein I used MorningStar Farms® Chik’n Strips, which were browned in a small amount of oil, then set aside.
Next, the process goes quickly:
Saute garlic, onion in extra virgin olive oil until translucent.
Add the greens and toss for about 30-60 seconds until slightly wilted.
Make a rice dressing in a large bowl: 1-2 tbs miso; 1 tbs extra virgin olive oil; 2 tsp apple cider vinegar; dash of maple syrup; tbs chili crisp; Teaspoon of hot pepper powder; dash of sesame oil. Mix well.
Add cooked rice to the bowl and mix thoroughly so grains of rice are coated.
Add the cooked greens mixture and the protein. Mix thoroughly.
A couple of nights dipped into the 30s this week, so I am holding off planting temperature-sensitive crops. The portable greenhouse is at capacity. I continue to used a space heater overnight. Other work besides planting remains to be done.
Plot preparation continued. The first round of weeding radishes and turnips was followed by hilling potatoes. I pruned the dying Red Delicious apple tree. The Zestar! and Crimson Crisp trees had a full bloom uninterrupted by frost. Cruciferous vegetables look good. The main question is how will I get everything done by Memorial Day? I probably won’t.
Crimson Crisp apple tree in bloom.
The brush pile got to six-feet tall so I burned it on a windless, cool Friday. Mostly, it was brush from that particular plot, combined with cuttings from the dying apple tree. It was quickly reduced to a pile of glowing embers that continued to smolder until nightfall.
With the burn pile now ashes, it will soon be time to prep the soil for tomatoes. I deconstructed last year’s tomato cages and stacked them closer to the plot. My main interest is to move the hardware as little as possible, but to remove it from where tomatoes were. That will be the first plot for seasonal, warm-temperature vegetables.
Tomato cage storage.
I mowed last week with the deck set to three inches. The idea was to let the clippings dry on the lawn before using them to mulch garlic. There are not enough clippings with this mow. The garlic is wanting weeding, or weed suppression. Mulching is a high priority, yet unaccomplished last week.
Embers of brush pile #2.
It was a good week in the garden. I started thinking about what would be first to harvest, maybe radishes. Turned out it was mixed greens still in the germination tray.
Journey Home 
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