Pollenatrix

The quest for horse manure

Orchids in horse poop... I've read about it, and I've always wondered if it worked. An entire website is devoted to the glories of growing orchids in horse manure, and I'm sure that I'm not the only fool who has read it and actually been inspired to try.

And so yesterday I was invited to go out on a cart ride with my friend Sylvia and her beautiful Halflinger horse, Albert, after work. Sylvia is a tolerant soul, and when I floated the idea by her she gamely brought along two plastic shopping bags with the full knowledge that she'd be transporting fresh horse poo home in the trunk of her car for me. Such a good sport. Her parents are gardeners so I guess that bizarre botanical enthusiasms don't alarm her any more; she's had experience.

The cart ride through through the tranquil Bavarian countryside was unforgettable. We spent over an hour exploring quiet car-free trails through farmer's fields and coniferous forests. We passed cyclists and joggers in our Roman-style chariot, and watched a deep red sunset and a big fat moonrise over the meadows. Wow. So beautiful. Albert is a gorgeous creature, with a ridiculously long and curling flowing mane and tail, and he seemed to enjoy the trip as much as we did. Halflingers are the equine equivalent of Golden Retrievers; loveable and friendly, and extremely intelligent. Not just a horse, but one of three friends out on an adventure.

After the ride, Sylvia led me to an enormous mound of manure and up along a long wooden board leading to the top of it. We balanced precariously on the narrow plank and giggled while we bent over and filled the plastic bag. No accidents, thankfully. Sylvia dropped me off back at the office where my bike was locked, and I rode home with a steaming warm bag of horse poo in the front basket. A memorable evening.

This morning, the experiment began. I repotted a small cymbidium, one from a bulb that I bought three years ago in Madeira. This has to be the slowest growing plant I've ever grown, and I'm so frustrated with its progress I don't mind if it becomes the victim of a bad idea. If this works, bonus.

It's a matter of perspective

It's been a tough week, but today Laird and I spent the afternoon wandering around downtown, playing tourist in our own town. I took my camera, and made a discovery: You just can't stay anxious and bummed out when you're searching for interesting things to photograph. We had fun, and I was given a much needed reminder of how very beautiful Munich is, and how truly fortunate we are to live here.

It was a good thing to learn: That if you look for good things around you, you'll find it.

That certain something in the air

The Uk is experiencing an early autumn, after an extraordinarily cold and wet summer. When I was in London at the beginning of July I was very glad I had packed a warm wool sweater.

Adrian Barlow, of English Apples and Pears, said early apple varieties were already being harvested.

“Autumn has definitely come earlier this year,” he said. “We expect varieties like Discovery to be in the shops as soon as next week.

“Later varieties, like Cameo, are already showing really good colour, which is extraordinarily early. Normally we wouldn’t expect to see that until the last week of September.”  (The Telegraph)

We've generally had a lovely summer here in Munich, never too uncomfortably hot, lots of sun and plenty of showers to keep things green. But in the last week I've noticed a crispness to the air, a faint hint of autumn. I wonder if summer is ending early for us too.

Random list of things to do before I...

What with all this passing away business going on around me, I've been thinking lately about things I would do in my life if I had the motivation or money... but mostly motivation. Things I would really enjoy doing. And I'm afraid none of them include playing naked frisbee with you in the Englischer Gartens, Laird.

Here's one: Learn to become a real gardener at Kew's School of Horticulture, or even better, take the Wisley Diploma in Practical Horticulture. All in England, of course. Gardener's Mecca.

I'm still interested in that Barking Frogs Permaculture course after all these years, even if their website is a mess.

I'd ride my bicycle around Germany and France, and Tuscany. Take off for 6 months or a year and be a bicycle gypsy.

I'd build a little home somewhere with some property -- good land for a garden and a nice view. Just a little place, with solar panels and a woodstove and a rain barrel, and a covered veranda with big Adirondack chairs to sink into during thunderstorms. And high-speed internet access, of course. If I end up living in a tool shed in the middle of an allotment garden, don't be too shocked. There are pretty schwanky-looking cottages here in Munich's allotment gardens.

I'd cover my house with clematis. All kinds of clematis, every kind of clematis. Love the clematis.

That's my humble list for tonight. Kayaking in the Queen Charlotte Islands in B.C. is still on my life list of things to do. But then, so was living in Europe about 5 years back. Now look at me. You just never know.

Oh, and write a book. Add that too.

Snow much to say today

We got a doozy of a snowstorm yesterday - 70 cm, I don't know what that is in inches but I can tell you it's about hip deep. We took Jake out this morning and I had so much fun in the snow I found an excuse to stay outdoors. I started to clear some paths, and was soon joined by a few more apartment dwellers who just couldn't stay indoors. The rest of 'em watched us out their windows, enjoying the comical sight of us trying to clear snow with one old-fashioned wooden shovel, a garden edger, and a yellow plastic bucket. The housemeister from the building next door eventually took pity on us and took over with his fancy snowblower, so we turned our attention to knocking snow off the tree branches and garden shrubs. I sent more than a couple of mini-avalanches down the back of my neighbours' necks, a brought a bird down too. The poor thing's wings were frozen to its back, but everyone was nervous about touching it because of the bird flu. I reluctantly left it to Mother Nature to deal with, and filled up the bird feeder as penance instead.

Speaking of penance, it's Lent, and last Tuesday was Faschingdienstag - Germany's version of Mardi Gras - in the market. What a hoot. Check out the pictures...

Football madness

The soccer hooligans were in town today for a big match between FC Bayern and Hamburg. Actually there was more noise than hooliganism, and maybe more police than fans. The police were an intimidating presence as they followed the rowdies through the walking streets in their vans, or stood back to back in circles in the main square like Roman legionnaires ready to do battle. They meant business.

It didn't seem to dampen the high spirits, though. Our subway line happens to be on the way to the Allianz arena, so on the ride home from shopping our car was full of fans from both sides. They were on their way to the game with open bottles of beer in hand and many more in their bellies, and their necks wrapped in scarves bearing the club colours. Now THAT was interesting. It was like being on a school bus full of very large children on the way home from a school outing. The noise of the singing and shouting and yelling of insults back and forth ("Scheiße FC Bayern!") was so deafening that I couldn't hear what Laird was saying in the seat across from me. The entire subway car was actually bouncing along the track as people jumped up and down in time to their songs, bouncing me in my seat along with it. A Hamburg fan by the door seemed to be carrying on a bellicose conversation with whoever was on the other end of the intercom, while his buddy threw obscene gestures at FC Bayern fans on the other side of the car. It didn't take much of a grasp of the language to figure out what the response was to that ("come over here and show me that finger...").

Oh boy.

And this is just a small taste of what the World Cup is going to be like in June...

Winter scenes

Some pictures around Munich.

Market musings

It's been snowing for three days, big fluffy snowflakes that stick to everything, and it's quite beautiful outdoors. The blizzard started dramatically on Thursday afternoon with sudden high winds, dark dark clouds and - get this - thunder and lightning. That was a first for me.

We're off to do our groceries in a few minutes. Saturday is market day, most definitely a mass activity. The stores aren't open on Sundays or in the evenings during the week, and they mostly close at 4PM on Saturdays. The resulting Saturday crowds in downtown Munich would rival December 24th in any North American mall. We avoid the crush for the most part by visiting a small farmer's market down the street, one of the many collections of travelling caravans that pop up in city neighbourhoods on various days of the week.

Germans are hardy souls. Snow and cold won't stop an outdoor market, or the people who shop there. I guarantee there will be lineups at the vegetable and fruit stalls, the cheese cart and baker. People will be standing around upturned wooden barrels enjoying a beer, and others will be munching on roast chicken fresh off the butcher cart rotissery. We'll load up our knapsacks because there's too much snow to drag our wheeled shopping cart through, though others will strap their purchases into the baskets on their bikes and wheel away, snow or no snow. More often than not, the winter cyclists are middle-aged women and I swear they could navigate their city bikes in the Artic.

Like I said, hardy souls.

Doing some sinking

Now that I'm (finally!) starting to learn how to speak German, my colleagues here in Munich are cheering me on. A lot of good-natured kidding flies around the office as they teach me new words I probably ought not know while I butcher the gracious language of Goethe. I can't even begin to imagine what bad German sounds like with a Canadian accent, I'm told "cute" but I'm sure that's being kind.

They are tremendously supportive, and I had a huge belly-laugh today when one of them sent me this video.

It starts off in German, but don't worry, you don't need subtitles.

A Broad at Home in Munich

I'm back! I've been in Canada, saying my goodbyes to friends and family before returning to take up permanent residence in beautiful Munich -- at least, as long as Germany is willing to have me. I'm like Cher, with her endless rounds of "Farewell Tours", though sadly I lack her retinue of glamorous drag-queens.

A strange twist of fate brought me to live abroad. I never imagined that I'd live anywhere else but Canada, so it gives me an odd sense of dislocation to think of myself as an "immigrant". It makes me realize that I think of Canada as a land that people come to from Europe and places beyond, not the other way around. It is, after all, a wonderful, kaleidoscopic nation of immigrants. What would my ancestors, who made what a century and more ago was a momentous decision and a gruelling trip across the ocean, who struggled to become established against obstacles that we can barely imagine today -- what would they think of a distant daughter who reversed their choices and took the ship back?