FIrst week of August 2021

Summer is flying by.  I mark the halfway point when the goldenrod blooms, and I have seen a few feathery golden sprays gracing the roadside.

 

I whacked my goldenrod back in June.  I told myself it was to encourage a bushy shape, but subconsciously it could have been to delay the bloom and my interpretation of how much summer is left.

 

My beloved lab pit mix, Peko, died.  It was at least a month ago and I have been reeling, sad, lonely, lost, bereaved.  

We acquired him as an adult, supposedly age 2 although appearing older, in 2008, so he was at least 15 and died just shortly before what we called his "birthday" July 22.

His decline was gradual over a few years.  He stopped showing interest in fetching a tennis ball, his favorite game.  He slept upstairs with me every night we owned him until the morning he fell down the stairs a couple years ago. Willow and I had to help him down the next morning, and it was so difficult I decided that he would have to sleep downstairs.

 

His pacing and whining that night in his attempt to come to bed with me was too much-I started sleeping downstairs for rest of his life.

That arrangement varied as time went by.  I had a twin mattress I laid on the floor each night and we slept there together.  Some nights we slept on the couch together, me balanced on the edge since he was a hog when it came to sleeping arrangements. 

 

Sometimes he slept with a cat or two on the other couch. Eventually he couldn't get on either couch without help.  He needed help getting outside.  He went on a special diet to encourage his appetite.  He started having incontinent issues which involved handwashing bedding sometimes three or four times a day.  It was a tough call, whether to rouse him out of a deep sleep and straddle him out the back door, or hope he would wake up and indicate he needed to go out.

At the end I bought disposable dog wraps, which he HATED.  He would not loose control when wearing one. I was home bound for the most part dashing out only briefly for supplies so I didn't arrive home and find him splayed on the floor in a mess.

 

Many people would have had him euthanized, I suppose.   I couldn't do that to him.  I have had dogs euthanzied, and I have had them die at home.  Peko was a tough cookie. He was my best friend.  Even after this much time has passed since I buried him on the hottest day of the year, I can still erupt in uncontollable tears and grief for his passing.

 

I love you Peko, thank you for being part of my life for 13 years.

Porcupines

 

Did you know that porcupines only have one baby per birthing?

I saw this Momma climbing my big elm and went out to take a pic of her.  Imagine my surprise when I saw-and heard-baby following Mom up the very tall tree.  

 The elm goes at least 50 feet before it forks off.  Baby whimpered and made little baby noises.  I prayed I wasn't going to see it fall.  By the time it made it to the first fork, Mom was in the branches eating either leaves or seeds.  

 

I think it must have been seeds because I have much shorter elms that have leaves.  OR maybe Mom was teaching baby how to climb big trees in addition to finding supper.

 

I like porcupines.  I have a few stories involving porcupines, most that include dogs.

 I had a Mom and baby here two years ago that I loved to see, then Mom got run over up the hill and her body lay in the middle of the road.  I was disgusted neighbors were just driving by, so I went up with a shovel and broom  and moved her off the road.  

A day or two later I was taking a walk and found baby cowering in a rock pile not far away.  I was very sad.  I have seen and heard of baby porcupines who linger near their dead Moms.  They follow them everywhere so no wonder they are lost when she won't get up ever again.

Fingers crossed this family survives the road- and the year round open season (no limit) on this amazing native.

 

 

Summer Solstice

 The days are flying by.  We finally had a little bit of rain yesterday when a thunderstorm came through.

The clover is blooming.  The highlight of my summer is when I walk across the lawn to my chair and find white clover blossoms tucked between my toes.  I don't care for jewelry and have ugly feet but something about the clover blossoms in between my toes is lovely.

Happy Solstice!

Justice

I was wondering what Jim Hansen was up to these days.  You may know him as the NASA climate scientist who testified before Congress in 1988 outlining the potential impacts of Climate Change

 

I was reading an article from the Guardian and it said that he was arrested as part of a protest against the Keystone Pipeline.

https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2018/jun/19/james-hansen-nasa-scientist-climate-change-warning 

400 protesters were arrested in front of the White House that day.I think that is more than the number of people who were charged for the storming of the Capitol January 6th.

 IMO that reflects what is going on from the top down in the Criminal Justice system.

 

 

 

 

 

Ramblings

 Summer Solstice 2021 is nearly upon me. Temperatures have been on  a roller coaster, 90 one day, 40 the next. that's F BTW. 

Today was a beautiful one, just right in the shade, just right in the su,n although some recent transplants didn't quite agree.  I spent the morning hauling goat manure down to revitalize a section of perennial bed that had gone rampant with Jeruselum Artichoke and a viral form of skanky aster, which was pulled by the handful last fall when I woke up and realized what it was doing all over the front garden.

Foxglove, recently given went in,  the roses (which are always finicky for me, but without a doubt my favorite flower) were tucked in,  I rescued one of the last fragments of purple coneflower which struggles here, ditto with a perennial bachelor's (Centaurea Montana I believe) button division from last year which wanted to be anywhere else but where it was.

The hops have taken off, placed in between the refuse-to-ever-bloom-in-20 years Chinese Wisteria and the refuse-to-give-a-grape-in-twenty year grape vine, on a tripod of rods, it reaches one way for the wisteria and the other way for the grape, themselves reaching their stride and reaching back in return.

The Wisteria appeared less than thrilled to meet Hops and every creeper turned the other way after they touched.  the Grape, a bit more tentaive, met Hop and thought that was ok.  Hop knelt in respect and gave Grape the upper hand.

I wonder which one I am most like, the Hop, the Grape, or the Wisteria?  

The WIsteria which just goes gangbusters and to hell with flowering.   The grape who hides until all threat of winter chill is gone and then goes full bore, eventually deciding it is just too much effort to fruit, or the hops, the gypsy orphan salvaged from a property up the road changing hands-usually such tentative divisions refuse to prosper away from their parent,  But not the hops, even after a bit of neglect, part of it jumped forth its first year and put on a nice streamer of hops blossoms.  

This year it took me by surprise, despite it's placement in the sandiest poorest soil in my garden, it sent forth a half donen vinelings this spring and is currently the Queen or King of the garden.

 

I feel lonely and horny looking at it. Eight long years.  sigh.

End of May

 

I am glad to see that the columbine have recovered from several years of saw fly attack.  The Willow told me to sprinkle coffee grounds on them to deter the flies.  I was sure this spring that I had lost most of them, but they surprised me, along with all the perennials that go from nothing to two feet seemingly overnight.

 

We need rain, in a bad way.  We didn't get much snow last winter and this spring has been dry.  I have several oaks taking a big blow from brown tailed moths.  They are invasive aliens that look like a tent caterpillar and have hairs that can give a burning itchy rash and lung irritation if inhaled.

 

I am recovering from peeling a strip off my right palm.  I snagged my foot on a down electric fence wire while carrying a five gallon bucket with a broken plastic spool on the handle. The weight of me on the hand holding the sharp piece as I went head first acted like a vegetable peeler and took a quarter inch wide three inch long chunk of skin out of my palm.  

 

UGH.  Tough time of year for a hand wound that requires wrapping, and makes holding anything in the dominant hand painful.

 

Lucky for me I had some large sterile gauze pads.  I have been tearing strips of fabric to wrap around my hand and wrist to keep the gauze in place.  It works terrific, since the three bandaids required would stay on a minute at best,  Although I did have some band aid brand ones that stuck so well the plastic had to be chipped  and pulled off which was extremely painful.  A good squeeze of neosporin on the gauze seems to help keep it from sticking, the wrap-an old jersey torn in strips has been the best.

 

Oh yeah, typing is painful too.  And I did it a week ago.  Grrrr. 

Happy May

.  The red maples are blooming red, the sugar maple are blooming a white green.  Ash have an almost black flower. The bright yellow King Alfred daffs are blooming, the other narcissus are just coming on, as are the bleeding heart,

 

I have squashed a couple of tent caterpillar nests on the wild cherry trees.   

 

The grey squirrels rasied another brood in the eaves.  I caught the ready to leave the nest younglings hanging off the electric service and chewed them out in squirrel talk.  One is very bold, hanging out to just look at me.  (I speak grey squirrel with a southern accent)

 Willow is coming home for a summer break, and she is not too keen on squirrels living in the roof.  But I have always had a soft spot for them, and am glad the population has rebounded and they are losing their fear.  The fact that the neighbors son who liked to shoot at anything that moved is not around has made a difference, as well.

 Happy May