Pollenatrix

Holding on to the old ways...

Some pictures I took while visiting a friend north of Kitchener, Ontario last week. It was a very cold Sunday morning, and the roads were teaming with Mennonites on their way to church. The area is exploding with industrial and residential development which makes the Mennonite community's determination to hold on to their traditional ways all the more fascinating, and touching.

A trek through suburban wastelands

Note: This post was written two days ago. I'm now in soggy Vancouver!

I'm back home in Canada for a visit, and at the moment I'm on a Greyhound bus between Kitchener and Toronto, watching miles of relentless suburbia speed by. Highway 401 parts an ocean of low-rise industrial warehouses and cheap residential housing. The homes are huddled close together, large and featureless save for double garage doors and cheap tile roofs repeating endlessly into the horizon. This landscape was beautiful once, covered in rolling farmland, small country villages, and forests sweeping up and over the ancient cliffs of the Niagara escarpment. Now the small pockets of scenery that are left stubbornly hang on without hope as a tsunami of development pounds over them.

Here and there, this littered sea of ugly housing gives way to vast islands of retail escape destinations -- big box stores and malls surrounded by thousands and thousands of cars. I recall the awesome variety of products inside those walls, and compare it with the tiny stores in Munich with their equally tiny selections.

Then I had a curious thought.

The landscape outside my window would look very, very different if people had to rely on a bicycle for transportation, the way I do back in Germany. I can just picture Canada's suburban inhabitants pedalling madly through interminable streets to reach their shopping destinations, and imagine the dismay on their faces when they realize that every one of their purchases has to be hauled home on the back of a bike. For one thing, any appeal shopping in a big box store or mall might now hold would certainly disappear, as would the perceived value of sorting through 20 different brands of whatever after a stenuous and exhausting ride. I have no doubt the masses would find, as I have in Munich, something better to do.

I look out the window again, and my smile disappears. So much good land. Wasted.

Spring Rites and a Dead Queen

I took the dog for a walk last night, just before twilight on Monday evening of the Victoria Day weekend. Those of you who live in most provinces of Canada (except Quebecers, who scratch their head bewildered, and wait for Saint Jean le Baptiste Day) will understand the implications. Those of you who own a dog will instantly flinch, and sympathize. The May "2-4" weekend is an annual rite, some say to celebrate the birthday of a long dead and very fat British queen. I think it's a thinly disguised rite to welcome spring, an instinctive reaction to the return of the growing season buried deep in our pagan little souls, urban though they may be. Traditional activities include the consumption of copious amounts of beer (a case of 24 -- or a "2-4", is appropriate), and fireworks. In particular, families with small children inflict terror on small animals by gathering in the thousands at every park, school yard, and green space in the province to launch arsenals of fireworks purchased at corner stores, waving sparklers in the air like little fairy lights. Ambulance sirens scream and rush by to respond to the teenage aftermath of dumb antics with minor explosives.

If you find yourself out walking with your dog at this magic hour, as I did, hold on tight to the leash. Jake practically dragged me home, panting and straining and quivering, a wild look in his eyes. I passed a woman struggling to hold on to a bucking German Shepherd, and called out in sympathy. She said, "this is nothing, one guy had to CARRY his dog home". I replied that I hoped it wasn't as big as hers, and she shook her head and said, "No -- bigger". I can only imagine.

In spite of the noise and panic-stricken animals, I understand the urge to celebrate. Walking the neighbourhood streets while it was still light enough to see, I was awestruck by the lushness of it all. Just weeks ago the trees were bare, and signs of life in gardens were hard to find. Now, the expression "spring is busting out all over" doesn't begin to describe the richness and absolute decadence of heavily treed streets and the thick canopy of leaves. I silently give thanks for the widespread conversion of front lawns to perennial gardens, which are at the height of their glory right now and close at hand to enjoy from the sidewalks. Lilac, poppies, iris, creeping flox, colour!! Colour and flowers and the thrill of green everywhere, so heavy and full you're wrapped in it. I suppose this a good enough reason to bust out the fireworks and party.

As for the dogs, well, I suppose every good pagan ritual requires a (figurative) sacrificial creature. It's nothing that can't be remedied with a cookie and the morning light.

Happy spring!!

I haunted them 'til they gave up

This post has nothing to do with orchids, nothing to do with gardening whatsoever. I do have a life outside of plants, you know.

And, I am happy to announce that W Network has given in to my relentless email campaign (ok, 1 email) to return BBC's Most Haunted to prime time. For those of you who haven't had the pleasure, it's an eccentric British television show that takes cameras overnight into some of the most haunted buildings in the British Isles. The squeaks and squeals of its experienced team of fraidy-cat girls are duly recorded, as are the musings of its skeptical paranormal researcher, the half-hearted attempts of stone-faced hangers-on to make contact ("if you can, TRY to show yourself to us"), and the dramatic turns of its colourful psychic and his invisible spirit guide, Sam. The antics of this unintentionally campy crew make me laugh and laugh and laugh, and the history and travelogue aspects ARE kinda interesting.

So imagine my dismay when I settled in for an hour of Most Haunted, and it wasn't on!! I scoured the television listings, and found it moved to 4:30 AM on Sunday morning. Are they kidding?? My fingers flew to the keyboard in protest, and here is their reply:

Dear Sandy,

Thank you for your email regarding 'Most Haunted'.

We're happy to assure you that although 'Most Haunted' has recently been
pre-empted with special programming, this change is temporary.  You can
still experience the chills and thrills of 'Most Haunted' ... returning on Saturday evenings at 8pm E/P as of February 21, 2004.

... Check out the 'Most Haunted' show page or W's web schedule for
more details:
http://www.wnetwork.com/tv_shows/shows/most_haunted/index.asp. 

Again, thanks for taking the time to write to us.

Regards,

W Network Viewer Relations Department

Speaking of pre-empted, here's a little something to get this blog back on topic now that the equilibrium of my life outside of the plant kingdom has been restored: The Ghost Orchid.

Keeping it reel

I was very sad to see that my favourite video store, Just4View, went out of business this past week. It was a small business that has been a fixture in the Roncesvalles neighbourhood for years. The owners were a quirky couple who were very knowledgeable about their large selection of old and foreign films, and who always had a cookie or two behind the counter for visiting dogs. Jake, my border collie, was a shameless beggar; the minute we walked through the door he'd station himself in front of the counter, sitting motionless and staring at the owner in his silent but demanding way. If it was a busy night and it took too long to get service, he'd rear up on his hind legs and slam his front paws down on the counter, like a drunk pounding his fist on the bar for a drink. It never failed to produce a grin and the desired results.

In mid-December, Rogers Video moved in almost directly across the street. A big glitzy chain with lots of capital, they immediately made their mark by undercutting prices. Now that the competition has been annihilated, I have no doubt they'll raise prices to market levels, if only to afford the legions of poorly-paid pimply part-time teenagers behind the counter. Well, I'm taking my dog in, but this time it's gonna be his hind leg that he lifts against the counter.

Fortunately, the competitive environment is not nearly so bleak in the orchid community here in Toronto...

You think you know Canada, eh?

Take a shot at it...    

             

      So you think you know Canada, eh?.    

   

Deep freeze

It's cold. Not the wimpy kind of cold we Torontonians generally moan about -- inducing much eye rolling from other parts of the country, except the west coast of BC, of course -- but real cold. 22 below zero cold, with a -36C wind chill.

The first clue that today was even colder than yesterday was when I let the dog out this morning, and my fingers stuck to the metal doorknob -- on the inside! My second clue was when I tried to run the shower, and nothing came out but scalding hot water. The cold water pipes have frozen on the outside wall of the building. It could be worse -- at least we have hot water, and the cold water is running in the kitchen. I managed to avoid second degree burns by using the watering cans to ferry cold water to the tub.

The third clue owes its dues to Murphy's Law. The streetcar stop is right outside my door, and runs every 5 minutes during rush hour. This morning I waited with a dozen other miserable commuters, perfect strangers huddled for warmth as far as propriety would allow, waiting for a streetcar that never arrived. Every once in a while someone would break from the crowd to run and stand in the middle of the road, peering anxiously down the street to see if it was coming while the rest of us watched hopefully. Repeated disappointment induced disgusted shaking of heads and stamping of feet. Finally the stamping turned into a stampede of people speed-walking several blocks up to the subway station, suffering all the way. By the time I burst through the doors, my nostrils were stuck together, my forehead and ears were burning, my eyes were streaming, and my thighs were numb. So were my fingers, and it took several tries to hold the token long enough to push it into the slot to let me through the turnstiles.

After listening patiently to my whining (a taste of which you have just experienced), Laird told me he is taking me to Mountain Equipment Co-op tomorrow to buy me a warm down jacket with a hood. I keep borrowing his, so the joke is that only one of us can go outside at a time.

Tonight when I let the dog out, I spotted the raccoon huddled in the tree branches beside the deck, looking miserable. He was gazing sadly at the door, aware that therein lay warmth, orchids to chew, and a big bag of pet food to raid. I really felt sorry for him. So, God help me, I put out some dog food. He gobbled it down, and I refilled it. He looked at me, I looked at him, and we called a truce for the moment. Once the cold breaks, the free lunch is over, buster.

Gem Geek or Rare Bug

Not a botanical entry per se, unless you extend the meaning of gardens to include your life's landscape, and consider the cultivation and enjoyment of friends every bit as satisfying as flowers -- which I do.

Enjoy:

Gem Geek or Rare Bug - The Website of the Writing of Graeme Burk

A carpet of leaves

Jake and I went for a walk today -- it was hard to see the trail because the leaves were ankle deep. This is a picture of the ground at my feet, just before the batteries on my camera died. So when we northerners talk about "a carpet of leaves", this is what we mean. This in particular was a pretty tapestry of shapes and colours.

# discuss

Lost in the suburbs

On the weekend my 1000w bulb went out, leaving my grow room in the dark, and I spent a fairly miserable rainy afternoon on Sunday trying to track down a new one. When I first set out, I was confident that it would be just a quick trip out to the hydroponics store at Applewood Plaza off Dixie Road, and when I got there I was dismayed to find that they had changed their hours and were no longer open on Sundays. I drove around a bit, and finally found a phone booth at a nearby gas station. I stepped out into the pouring rain and into the booth, only to find myself ankle deep in water. Grimacing at the cold water soaking my through my socks, I quickly looked up "hydroponics" in the yellow pages, and picked up the phone to make a call. No place to put in a quarter. I could hardly believe it, a phone booth that didn't take money! It accepted phone cards and credit cards, but no coins. Frustrated, I tore the page out of the phone book, and ran back to my car in shoes that were now squishing water. The next hour and a half was spent driving around Mississauga, cursing bad roads and depressing suburbs, frustrated that every hydroponics store I stopped at was closed on Sundays. Most of them were tucked away in seedy industrial buildings with taped up windows, and looked disreputable. What's with Mississauga and Sunday shopping? Am I to believe that every hydroponic marijuana grower is in church? By 3:30PM I was extremely grumpy. I stopped at a grocery store to find a REAL phone booth. I struck out on my first call -- Happy Girl Hydroponics in Kensington Market did not have the bulb I needed in stock. Pretty much fed up by now, I called 411 for the number of a store in Toronto that I recalled seeing during an internet search - my last try before giving up, and going home. Bingo! Bustan on Harbord Street, right beside Wonderworks and the Toronto Women's Bookstore - just east of Spadina - had it in stock, and they were open until 5PM. I jumped in my car and drove all the way back to Toronto, braving bad visibility, slippery highways and kamikaze truck drivers, to land safely in front of their store. I was well taken care of at the end of my miserable journey. I left there with the proper HID metal halide bulb, and a few other things as well, including a really neat 65watt full spectrum compact fluorescent bulb that fits into regular light fixtures. It works beautifully to light up the dark side of my grow room, so there's no need to buy an expensive light mover now. I also left there with a ph pen and a hard-to-find bottle of Superthrive. The owners, Nurit & Harley, spent a lot of time with me explaining the different products, and when I described the semi-hydro method of growing orchids, they promised to look into perhaps stocking up on Prime Agra, which I have had no luck finding in Canada so far.  I finally got home at around 5:30, soaking wet but finally content. After an afternoon fruitlessly scouring the suburbs, my quest ended, close to home after all. Yes, there are good reasons to live right smack in the middle of a big city, and this is one of them. :-)