Pollenatrix

Raided

Aw man, I just went to look out at the deck, and saw a bunch of dirt around the base of the planters. It couldn't have been cats trying to do the litterbox thing, I had laid chicken wire over the tops to prevent that. The raccoon? I looked again, and there were two fat black squirrels right in the middle of the planters, caught in the act of digging and nibbling on tulip bulbs. They stopped and stared at me boldy, the little thugs. I looked at Jake and said, "want to chase the squirrels"? He stared back at me and waved his tail a bit, but all he was interested in was his dinner. I looked at Mousepad, standing beside him, and he too meowed at me, with a "get with it sister, I'm hungry". So I opened the door and yelled at the squirrels myself. The scampered away reluctantly, their prizes in hand, with a wicked gleam in their eyes. Still in my pyjamas, I stepped out to survey the damage. Sure enough, there were holes in the planters, daffodils bulbs laying on top where they'd been tossed aside in favour of the tastier tulip bulbs. Could two squirrels have made off with 75 bulbs in one night? If not, I'm sure they'll be back to finish the job. They don't even have the decency to be cute. Squirrels are supposed to be grey, with white chests, like the ones I grew up with in Montreal. These black squirrels are just plain ugly. I should have nailed that chicken wire down.

# discuss

I watered and fertilized my

I watered and fertilized my orchids last night with Dyna-Grow "ProteKt" and "Bloom", and I tossed a few crystals of epsom salts in the water as well. I write this for my own benefit because my record-keeping is at best, haphazard. Next time I get the urge to give them the epsom salt treatment, I can check the date on the blog to make sure it's been at least 4 months. Why epsom salts? Mostly because I read on a forum somewhere that the plants like it. I like epsom salts in my bath water too. Most of my orchids are in semi-hydro, though I've repotted all my phals in New Zealand sphagnum moss because none of them were happy. More than half the blame for that can be laid at the doorstep of that destructive racoon, who couldn't be convinced that those were roots, not fat grubs. Since the only healthy phal I own is in moss (and was kept indoors under lights all summer), I decided to see if changing the medium would give the poor beaten-up and broken things a boost. Don't get me wrong, semi-hydro works great for most of my orchids. The phrags and the zygos love it. It's just the phals that aren't thriving in it, for me at least. I've heard the same from a couple of other people. Speaking of raccons, Laird had a heart attack the morning of the day I arrived home. He walked into the kitchen and the dog food was knocked over, and what little was left was all over the kitchen floor. Once this evidence of a midnight racoon raid registered, he raced to the back porch to check my orchids. They were untouched. Obviously the F.B. (fat bastard) gorged himself to the point he couldn't be bothered with mere flowers. Laird's first act of the morning was mopping up the back stairs, as the wretched creature had left a trail of pee all the way down and out the door (the door he had pried open the night before).

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Just stuff

It's been a while, I guess with the excitement of the power blackout last weekend and the aftermath this past week, blogging hasn't been on my radar. The power went out just after 4PM on Thursday. I had the presence of mind to realize that the subways and streetcars would be out of action, and grabbed the first cab I saw. It was a smart move, because moments later it was clear from the radio reports that the blackout was no ordinary event. I got home, pulled out my coleman lantern and candles, and was relatively comfortable until hydro came back on in the wee hours Sunday morning. It's quite a jaw dropping sight to see a sky full of stars in downtown Toronto. I slept on the deck all weekend and did battle with racoons, but then so did the majority of my neighbours. This past week has been....interesting. My office building downtown has taken the call to reduce power quite seriously, so most mornings the lights didn't come on until 10 or 11AM, and were flipped off again at 4PM. Lucky for me my office has a window, but the poor cubicle dwellers were literally in the dark, the only light coming from their computer monitors. To top it off, the air conditioning was turned off, and competition was stiff for the one elevator that was in operation to serve 1500 people. Ah well, it's all part of the adventure, I guess. And a good lesson in how much hydro we do use every day. Anyway, even without the lights I had one very bright spot in my week. Gayla, of You Grow Girl fame came over to take pictures of my balcony garden. We had a great gab about all things gardening, the kind of conversation that only gardeners can have. Non-gardeners flee from this kind of shop talk (like Laird, who kept a low profile in the living room), but we had a wonderful visit and I was sorry when it came to an end. She is tremendously knowledgeable and interesting, and very talented, and I'm looking forward to her upcoming book on urban gardening. We escaped the city this weekend for some hiking along the Bruce trail. At a trailhead we ran into a couple who were accompanied by a truly gorgeous Coonhound, a very unusual dog in these parts. I toyed with the idea of kidnapping him and bringing him home to put to good use on my balcony. When I got home the racoons had done a number on my deck. They'd broken through the plastic cover to my orchid "greenhouse", and tossed my nicest phrags around ruthlessly. My water garden....oh my water garden. :-( Well, what's left of it came inside tonight, to the safety of my bedroom. I wrapped the "greenhouse" with chicken wire, and pulled what's left of the cover over top of it. The finickity dendrobium, which is finally in bloom and will blast it's buds if you so much as look at it the wrong way, was on it's side on the ground, the nicest of the flowers tattered and torn. I cut the spike off. Oh well, there's always next year. Maybe I'll invest in chicken wire in a big way, and just enclose the entire deck in it.

Arghhhh....racoons

I'm starting to think this blog is turning into more of a rant against racoons than it is about gardening. Last night I closed the glass sliding door onto the deck, but I guess the lock didn't catch. When I woke up this morning, the sliding door was partly open (just enough for a fat racoon to squeeze through), and the dog food container was knocked on it side, kibble all over the kitchen floor. If he'd left it at that, I'd be ok with it, but the dang blasted $#!! critter got into the orchids again. He broke through the zipper of the greenhouse cover, got onto the bottom shelf and created chaos among the phaleonopsis'. All of 'em knocked over, pulled out, chewed on, hydroton pellets spread everywhere. Arghhhh!!!! They were just...starting....to make a comeback.

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The day after.... and, what to do with a Boston Fern

If you're curious, I was spared the decision of whether to drag former maggot-infested racoon-proof garbage can back up the stairs and through my apartment this morning. My legions of fans must have raced up the street to nab it as a souvenir. Either that, or the downstairs neighbour stole it and put it in her restaurant kitchen.

I finally moved the monster Boston Fern out of the bedroom and on to the deck this morning. It's been doing ok in the bedroom, but I've been feeling kinda of guilty about depriving it of a summer vacation. All the other plants get to go outside. Actually, the internal debate has been: (a) if it goes outside, it will sulk and drop all its leaves when it comes back into the bedroom in the fall. It's been doing just fine in the window's eastern exposure, even if it does looked a little peeked in winter, or, (b) some time outside will fatten it up, give it more strength to make it through the winter. And I feel guilty -- ferns should be outside, showered with water and soaking up the humidity and the fresh air. The bedroom is looking naked without it. The house always feels a little empty when the kids go off to summer camp.

My orchids are showing signs of recovery. Lots of new growth on the phragmipediums, the zygopetallum, zygonaria, and the lycaste, and even my pescatoria dayana has stepped back from the brink of death. My bifrenaria has good leaf growth but practically no roots (though there are some starting), so it's top heavy and keeps trying to jump out of the pot. The phals aren't looking quite so chipper, so I've stuck 'em on the bottom where I don't have to look at them. Nothing like humid weather, and the absence of racoon attentions. It seems that the anti-racoon zippered greenhouse device (scrounged from a garage sale but originally from Lee Valley) is working. Though last night Mr. Racoon paid a visit, and I noticed he tore the zipper at the bottom, stuck his paw in and pulled a phal out of its pot. I tried to do some duct tape repairs, but it wouldn't hold when I tried to zip the cover back up.

I still don't know which plant is which. During the worst of the racoon invasions earlier this summer, the dang-blasted critter pulled out all the name tags, or they fell out when the pots were knocked over. I have to wait for most of them to bloom before I'll be able to stick the right name tags back in.

Last night the racoon also uprooted some other small plants and knocked over the pescatoria (which is not in the greenhouse, it's sitting on the deck), scattering hydroton balls all over the deck as per his usual tricks. I think he likes to dump them on the deck and play with them, like a kid playing with marbles.

I read about someone who indulges this behaviour by filling a kiddie pool with toys and putting it on their deck. Then they stay up late and watch the racoons play with them through the window.

Maybe I should stick some toys out there at night, and see if that distracts the fat bastard from my orchids.

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* warning * This post is rated D for disgusting

Stop here if you are squeamish. I got home late tonight, and was almost out the door again to take Jake for a quick walk when I realized that tonight is garbage night. I toyed with the idea of leaving it until next week, but the thought of another week of stinky fish and cat litter in this heat quashed that idea. So, I went out to the deck, turned open the lid of the racoon-proof garbage can and placed the lid on the railing. As I lifted the bag out of the pail and placed it on the floor of the deck, my elbow knocked the lid and I heard it clatter to the ground in the alley below. Drats, I thought. I'm not climbing down into that pigeon crap infested alley at this hour to get it. It'll be there in the morning. Then I turned my attention to the other garbage can. It was closer to the light, and as I lifted the lid I was horrified to find the inside of the lid, the pail, and the garbage bag inside covered with maggots. I swiftly clamped the lid back down again. I froze for a moment, and then turned to look more closely at the bag on the deck. It too, yes the one I lifted with my bare hands, was covered with maggots, all of them dripping off the bag on to the deck and scattering in every direction across the floor with astonishing speed. My first reaction was to wonder whether racoons eat maggots (please God where is a racoon when you need one). My second thought was that without a lid, the racoon would tear the bag open and scatter the maggot-infested contents all over the deck. My third thought was that the bags would have to go out tonight. My fourth and most awful realization was that it would all have to go through the apartment and down three flights of stairs to get to the street. Realizing that screaming would be singularly unrewarding, I grabbed the hose and sprayed down the bag. Man, those maggots can move. I sprayed and sprayed and sprayed, hopefully swamping those disgusting things off the deck and onto the ground below. Or at least the deck below. I don't like my downstairs neighbour anyway. Resigned and in despair, I double-bagged the maggot sack. Then I picked up the bag, grabbed the handle of the other garbage can (making sure there were no maggots clinging to the outside of it), and pulled them through the apartment. Through the living room, past the office, past the bedroom, into the front hall, down the stairs...stairs...stairs....all the while praying nothing would break. So if you see an abandoned racoon-proof garbage pail on Roncesvalles Avenue tomorrow sometime, feel free to take it home. No way is it coming back in through my house. So what has this to do with gardening? Well, it happened on the deck. You know, balcony container garden area. And it's kinda about nature. sorta. Blech.

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Raccoon Rant no. 164

Had a racoon visitation last night. I was watching tv when Jake started barking his head off, the kind of alarm he usually raises when Mousepad is tangling with another cat and lets loose a cry of distress. As designated cavalry, he and I raced down the back stairs and flung the door open, only to find Mousepad sitting on the deck, calmly observing two racoons in the tree beside him. One of the racoons was making an oinking sound, and the other something that I thought might have been a growl. I figured one was bullying and the other whining for mercy. I yelled at them to knock it off, and then ignored Mousepad's squawks of protest as I picked him up and brought him in the house. A quick Google search for "racoon sounds" revealed that they weren't bickering at all. The oinker was making "contented" vocalizations, and the other one was purring. How sweet, a lovefest in the trees. I went back to the balcony, where they were still carrying on, and grumpily hosed them in their perches in the tree. There was a lot of shuffling and shaking of leaves and branches, and then all was still. I went back in and went to bed. 

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The Epic Adventures of the Garden Statuary

I'm a sucker for cement things and other assorted kinds of garden art. Knowing that, my loved ones have contributed to the population explosion of eccentric characters on my deck. I swear one night they'll come alive and attempt a coup d'etat. Better yet, they'll mobilize and stage a counter-attack when that pesky raccoon knocks one of them over one too many times....

I can see it now. The fountain fairies and dragonfly sundial will do aerial divebombing, the big sundial will used as advanced weaponry, the pig will charge, the windman will blow as hard as he can, and Inukshuk (made of bricks collected from the shores of Lake Ontario) will hold the territory and show the raccoon the way to the door. Deborah will pray for peace and Buddha will cheer our success. Mr Raccoon may think he's a cartoon action hero, but he's got nothing on my garden thingies. # discuss

Racoon Rant no. 81

Another racoon encounter last night.... I was up late blogging, and heard a telltale "thump" coming from the back. I went out to the back porch, unlocked and opened the sliding door (I've learned my lesson there), and searched around. Nothing for a few seconds. Then a fat raccoon scurried past me, right beside the now open door. Fortunately, he didn't have the temerity to invite himself in - he scooted behind the bbq to hide. Ha! I smiled grimly, and grabbed the hose. "Get outta here you fat bastard!!! N O W!!!!" I yelled. Jake cowered in the kitchen, no doubt sympathetic to his furry cousin and relieved that HE wasn't the object of my rage. My neighbours were probably listening and wondering just who I was yelling at. I hosed him out of his hiding place, and he bolted for another corner. I blasted him again, soaking him to the skin. He made a break for the rainspout, and in an impressive feat of agility, he leaped over the railing, grabbed the slippery (and now very wet) metal gutter with both hands and feet. Then, to my surprise he slid headfirst all the way down to the ground. It was a creditable imitation of an upside down fireman's slide down a pole, and I was full of admiration as I continued blast him with water all the way down. It was an escape worthy of a cartoon action hero. # discuss

Raccon Rant no. 27: I don't care how cute you are

He's baaaaack.... 10PM last night I heard a thump in the back porch. I ran back just in time to catch a furry ringed tail disappear down the back stairs. Ha! I knew he was trapped. The door wasn't open at the bottom of the stairs. He certainly looked very apologetic, grovelling almost. He tried to hide his eyes under the stairs, in a comical version of "If I can't see you then you can't see me", then when he peeked and saw that I hadn't disappeared, he wisely realized there was no hiding. Busted!!! He laid his head on the step in a most resigned and pitiful way. Do with me what you will, he seemed to say. As a precaution, and mindful of the fact that cornered animals can be unpredictable, I grabbed a corn broom and stuck it between us. He cowered, and gave me with a pleading look -- "Please don't hit me!!!". Faker. I reached over him and opened the door, and he got up slowly, turned his back on me and sauntered out with as much dignity and ceremony as a fat racoon can muster. He doesn't fool me for a minute.