Pollenatrix

Black masked bandits

I spent a busy and happy evening working on my "garden" on the deck. In spite of the cool weather we've been having, most of my seedlings are well on their way. The nasturtiums are swallowing up one whole side of the deck, and the lettuce and spinach that are sharing the same containers are straining their necks to see over top of them. The peas are about 2 feet tall now, and the bush sweet peas that I started back in February are lush and thick. In another corner, double pink and white columbines are blooming, and the multi-coloured Johnny Jump-Ups are spreading and blooming like crazy. They like this weather. The antique roses that I dug up from a graveyard a couple of weeks ago seem to have taken, and the two clematis' that I transplanted from the yard below are strong and healthy. Not so happy are my orchids. The most tender and heat-loving varieties are back in the porch, on the floor, waiting for warmer weather. The rest are outside and for the most part ailing -- the leaves are turning yellow and brown and I'm afraid my zygos are going to turn up their toes. My orchid cactus' are also very unhappy -- but I'll think they'll spring back. I just hope the weather turns warm soon. So far, no more serious encounters with the raccon. I've been locking my door at night, tight. My friend Tanya, a parole officer in the area, was over for dinner this week and chided me for my lackadaisical attitude about locking my doors. "Where do you think you live???", she demanded, thinking of the nasty characters she deals with every day. Well, I am in the middle of the city, but it's taken a four-legged bandit with a mask on to convince me to beef up security. My neighbour tells me that there are four or five of the critters living in the tree beside my garage. Realizing I'm outnumbered, I've given up any thoughts of trying to live-trap. I'm either an optimist or a fool, but I fertilized the plants tonight. Maybe I'm tempting the fates, but I applied a diluted/liquid form of fish fertilizer and blood meal. If that's not an invitation for a hungry raccon, I don't know what is.  And I turned out the lights on the deck tonight -- I've been leaving them on all night to discourage the rascals. It's not great for the health of the plants AND my hydro bill. Let just see if the garden makes it through the night unscathed. Unscathed. Well, that certainly does not describe my loveable cat this evening. He had a pretty rough fight with a neighbours cat a few hours ago. I turned the hose on them, and even THAT didn't break it up. Jake and I had to go charging down the stairs like the calvary coming over the hill. Mousepad fled up the stairs, a big chunk of white fur hanging out of his mouth, and tufts of his own black fur sticking out in long rakes along his side.  I'm going to have to try to keep him inside as much as possible, I shudder to think how far it could have gone without intervention. All hopes of leaving the sliding doors open to summer breezes this summer are fading fast.....

Raccoon Rant no. 18

The battles with the raccoon continue. He paid another destructive visit to the deck just after my last post, pulling out orchids and chewing on the roots, upturning ivy and rooting around in the soil. Two mornings later, I woke up to find the dog food container knocked over on to the floor, and more of the orchids pulled out...except they were in the enclosed back porch, where I had placed some of them to protect them from the cold spell. I scratched my head a bit, and blamed it on the cat. On awaking, Laird asked me what the heck I was doing getting up in the middle of the night to watch TV. He told me he was wakened at 6AM by the blaring sound, and had to get up to turn it off. Unless I had been sleepwalking, it wasn't me. The next morning, all became clear. I walked into the kitchen to find dog food all over the floor, again. More plants uprooted in the back porch. Little muddy footprints that went from the porch, to the dog food container, to the window sill, to another window sill.....to the living room. In behind the TV, all the plugs were pulled out from the wall. The little fountain beside the TV was askew, water splashed all around it. Muddy little hand-like foot prints on the upholstered chairs. At least this time, he hadn't stopped to watch TV. For a few moments I panicked as I thought the coon was still in the house, until the grumbling and sleepy Laird finally pointed out the tear at the bottom of the screen in the sliding doors leading to the deck. We had been victims of a clever four-legged bandit for the past two nights. The real puzzle was, what's up with the dog, or even the cat? Neither of them made a peep. I figure that Jake probably even met him at the door, showed him around, and poured him a drink. Fine watchdog he is. The Wildlife Service Guy on the phone couldn't get over it either. "What kind of dog is it?", he kept asking. Anyway, he informed that the rascal will now be a very determined repeat visitor, a smart one and strong at that. He told me to lock up tight -- windows, doors, everything. The critter will be able to slide the glass door open if it's not bolted. Ironic that in the middle of the largest city in Canada, I've never even thought twice about locking my doors to human bandits. He gave me a few more tips. Bright lights, motion sensors, and plastic bags filled with ammonia soaked rags, with holes poked in the bags so the odour comes through. If all else fails, rent a humane trap and scare the sucker. I can even relocate him up to 1KM away, which makes High Park within striking distance. Nowhere is safe from nature. In a weird way, I'm secretly pleased about that.

Catch up time, it's been

Catch up time, it's been a while since I last posted. Lots of news. Over the weekend our fantastic landlord and his uncle finished off the roof on the deck. When I first heard of the roof idea, I wasn't too pleased -- I imagined that would be the end of growing vegetables, since the sun would be cut off. Fortunately, "Uncle" is an avid gardener too. They put up clear plexiglass panels, and as Uncle explained, the light will come through, but the worst of the UV rays and any frost would be warded off (not to mention the rain). I was completely won over as I barbequed chicken on the deck tonight, and listened to the rain pelt the roof over my head. Such a comforting sound, and air smelled clean and sweet (well, except for the smoke from my chicken leg flambe). Uncle shared more of his hard-won garden wisdom. Together we inspected my fledgling vegetable crop, and in very broken English, he explained that rather than cut off the entire head of lettuce for a salad, I could simply pick off the leaves as I needed them. The plant will continue to grow. Why didn't I think of that?? He also explained how to propagate rose bushes, and made it sound very easy. He told me to break (not cut) a good sized branch, plunge 3/4 of it into soil, and by spring the new plant would be rooted and budding. Easier said than done, I think. I may be giving it a try, in any event. On Sunday we took a hike up Walker's Line, and dropped into a very old graveyard near the trail head. In years past the blooms on a magnificent old rose have always caught my eye...double pink blooms and very fragant, and huge. Over the years the bush, which was probably originally planted on a grave, has taken over an entire section of the graveyard and has reseeded freely in a neighbouring meadow. I figured if I could find the original grave marker, I would learn approximately how old the rose really was. It took some courage, more than a few scratches, and some determined rooting to find it -- an old white stone marker buried deep in the rose bush, dated 1895. I dug up a couple of seedlings and hope that I can get them to grow on my deck garden, at least for a while. Yesterday was a warm day, and with the deck finally finished (and a whopping hydro bill waiting to be paid), I decided it was time to move all my orchids and indoor plants outside, and turn off the 1000W grow light and humidifier. It took hours of work to arrange everything to my liking, and to clean up the mess left over in the grow room. By late evening I was very satisfied with my efforts, and dragged Laird outside to admire the new decor. Alas, I'm off to a bad start. Mr. Racoon paid an inspection visit last night, and apparently didn't like what he saw. He knocked pots off shelves, dug plants out of pots and flung them around the deck, tromped carelessly in my big planters, and washed something disgusting in my fairy fountain. He managed to get into the garbage cans, and showed his displeasure at not being able to get into the worm bins by knocking everything around it to the ground. The bugger. I can't wait until the vegetables start coming out. It could be war. The only consolation is that I wasn't singled out. This morning, as I grumbled in my nightie and started picking up after the bastard, I heard my neighbour on the deck below doing the same thing. Now, it's turned cold again and the high later this week will only be 10C. I don't know if my orchids will stand up to all the stress. They're going to have to -- I'm not dragging them all back inside two days after taking them out! If they die I may switch to cactus plants. That'll even the score with that racoon.

I was right. We're skipping

I was right. We're skipping spring altogether this year, going straight from the dead of winter to the dead of summer. The temperature has gone up to 27C, and there's still snow on the ground. I was so excited at the chance to escape the Great Indoors, I actually talked Laird into sleeping outside on the deck last night. Now Laird, being a big fan of the Great Indoors, took some persuading. He's a good sport, though, and after a few beers, he agreed. I think the fact that I marched all of the pillows from the bed to the now fully-inflated air mattress on the deck may also have been a factor, but I can't be sure. No, I exaggerate. He lit some incense and some candles for ambience, and I contributed the alarm clock, a wooden spoon and the biggest metal pot lid I could find -- just in case our close neighbour and frequent backyard guest the racoon decided to climb into bed with us. I couldn't stop smiling as I lay outside, on the deck, warm and snuggly under a pile of blankets with my dog stretched out by my side, his head resting on the crook of my arm. It was so lovely to stare at the moon and the wayward seagulls heading for home, instead of a crack in the ceiling!! I fell fast asleep, and didn't budge when Laird finally, reluctantly joined me. At 1:30AM Jake bolted awake and started barking. Our friend the racoon was scrambling down the big tree across the yard, probably still dopey because he took a big tumble before recovering his composure and climbing the fence. He sure had a lot to say about our sleeping arrangements -- strange squeeky oinking noises, obviously not pleased. But as he showed no inclination to join our little party, we all fell quickly back to sleep. A nice change from the usual middle-of-the-night rousing by (a) the screeching of streetcars racing back to the terminal, (b) loud drunks leaving the bar across the street, or my favourite, (c) the recycling truck collecting cans and bottles piled up front of the restaurants along the street -- and the sound of crashing glass and metal at 4 in the morning. That's life in the big city, especially on a warm night with all the windows open. Sigh.