Semi Rural vs Really Rural Gardening

I grew up in VT.

Where I grew up your yard was the area that you mowed and where the stuff you planted on purpose was. Sometimes the yard would increase or shrink depending on how much mowing you wanted to do at any given time. Slack off for the season and the woods would gobble your yard up whole.

Cast off cars, farm equipment and old tires are considered legitimate (though perhaps not tasteful) stand-ins for lawn statuary in VT. Those who wanted to get really fancy painted the tires white.

I have to admit in my growing up years I found the inner intentional part far less interesting than the outer wild part. I credit my father with that. He taught me that there are actually different grasses. Who knew. My favorite was timothy grass because you could chew on the ends which were soft and sweet tasting. He must have liked it too because they named my brother after it.

My favorite flower was indian paintbrush because it evoked images of indians painting and then setting the paintbrush back in the ground.

Mid-Summer Nights Eve was the best night of the year as we were woken from bed and made our way to a big clearing to watch the fairies dance. I still watch for fireflies on summer nights but I’ve not seen such large groups since.

Semi-Rural describes where I live now. The side yard abuts the neighbors but the back yard faces on woods where a short walk will bring you to the river (I keep my kayak hidden behind a tree). We have cranberry bogs down the road which is not only a great place to walk but it becomes an educational field trip at Thanksgiving.

Semi Rural is the place where deer and coyote probably won’t make the 6 o’clock news (you know they are out there) but you really wish they’d get their meat and veggies at the supermarket down the street.

This is my Dad:

note: in order to set the record straight I have to say that I don’t recall any tire decorations on our property. . .

Meet my Kayak

My kayak is the best means of working out lifes’ kinks that I know. It doesn’t hurt that nothing about it bears any relation to work that I do. When my shoulders are feeling tight from hunching over the computer and my eyes are burning nothing helps more than hopping in the kayak.

Today I took my camera along. It’s the first day I’ve done this. I’ve wanted a picture of my kayak against the water as a desktop picture. Never mind that it will be a terrible distraction.

I had an additional reason to take my camera today. I’m on the Historic District Commission in my town. There is a historically significant dam that has been discussed several times in meetings and some of the members have been fretting about it’s condition.

So I decided to check for myself.

I put my digital camera in two layers of ziplock bags – feeling pretty clever until I realized that if my camera fell out of my kayak it would just sink to the bottom and I probably wouldn’t find it. Wouldn’t matter if I had it in three ziplock bags.

I’m sure they have something for this situation that is both watertight and buoyant. . .

The camera made it back safe and sound. So did the ant that decided to hitch a ride. I told him that if he could stay dry and off my legs I’d get him back to dry land safe.

Good thing for him he kept up his end of the bargain.

Here is the dam:

Fresh from the season of hope – entering the season of desperation – heading toward the season of despair

You know you have reached it when the peonies have gone by. This is when you gather up the good smelling rose petals in baskets so you at least have the scent to remember. It’s the period owned by weeds and vermin and bugs and disease and you know that if you want to maintain state you’d better carve out a big slice of time for doing battle and basic maintenance. It’s the least glamorous part of gardening .

This is when you really wonder why you insisted on growing hollyhocks (fungus loves them) or why you ever thought a lawn was a good idea (you could charge for parking if you paved it all over). You want to call an arborist in because every single ornamental tree you own has either holes or funny brown spots on the leaves.

Even the bird species are different. I am buying 40 pound bags of bird seed a week to feed crows and blue jays?

If you read my post on Age Envy you will realize I have a real dilemma here. 10 x 30 (calculated from the last smooth age of 21) hours worth of personal maintenance vs weeding in the garden.

When you see my dirty fingernails you’ll understand. I – choosing wisely -  have a fighting chance with my garden. That much personal maintenance on myself would look scary and unnatural.

Which doesn’t prevent me paying good money to others. I have to have good hair.

the iphone thing

If you write a blog you have to mention Paris Hilton or the iphone at least once. Don’t ask me why but it’s apparently a deadly strain of media fever which I am convinced causes blindness. You don’t even have a choice. You have to do it.

I’m hoping the pharmaceutical companies come up with a vaccine soon.

The iphone really belonged on my other blog where I write about what is surely going to be the Continuing Adventure of My Husband’s Attempts to Secure his Very Own iPhone on the day of it’s release.

Stay Tuned.

And Paris Hilton is unlikely to get any more space than I’ve already given her though I might bring up Anna Nicole Smith as a way to mess with folks.

Update (06.29.07 @ 6:30 pm or so): We Can All Rest Easy Now. We have the iPhone and it’s famous. It’s picture has made it all the way to Palo Alto (and surely beyond). I feel like a stage mom and it’s not even my phone.

psst look for our iPhone under First iPhone unboxing I’ve seen.

Over 50 Geek Survival Tools Part One

I can’t recommend this little device enough for those moments when the inner HVAC goes whacky. If this nicely styled retro usb fan doesn’t do it for you they have everything you might want to keep your usb port productive and useful.

Age Envy

I remember turning 30 and thinking it was the beginning of the end. I remember separating from my (ex) husband at age 35 and thinking – well, that’s it, no one is going to want me now. Seriously.

I used to love Golden Girls because in my Baby Boomer Mass-Marketed World View it gave me hope. So now I’m looking at it from a different vantage point and here is how it looks.

I reserve the right to change my mind annually. . .

21 is the last birthday you actually look forward to. After that you take each one sort of in stride except the 5’s and the 10’s. The 5’s give you a jolt and the 10’s make you re-assess and re-evaluate. (As in eeek what have I been doing with my life or ugh, I really look like #!%$)

Incidentally, each one of the 5’s is good for your choice of an additional 5 pounds or an additional 10 hours a week worth of maintenance. Your choice.

Choose wisely.

50 is the one where marketing (from now on) thinks you are only interested in medical products, waiters who want a really big tip will casually and apparently sincerely call you “Miss”. Everyone else calls you Ma’am.

Its the one where you get your first mailing from AARP. They want you to get it just before you actually turn 50 so you can light your birthday cake with it.

This is my garden

This is a shot of a portion of my garden and is from a vantage point I rarely view. It’s a view I particularly like. I enjoy the reverse view even more (as I’m not looking at the neighbors house) but you wouldn’t get as good a view of the astilbes and hostas looking lush and healthy.

I especially wanted to show those first as this is the part of the season where I’ve given up on magic thinking and come to terms with the fact that I have to do battle with bugs, fungus, rot and wild animals large and small every year. There should be a post coming soon about that which will be titled “Fresh from the season of hope – entering the season of desperation – trying to head off the season of despair”. (you get the picture)

If you plant nothing but hostas and astilbes and daylilies you will be a serene and happy gardener.

Cat TV or Reality Programming For Cats

note: I had this on my Random stuff page for a few days. It still lives there but I thought it deserved a promotion

Ok so whats the story behind this one.

We could hear mice in the wall for weeks but it took a while before it localized to a spot where we could perhaps get them out. They decided that the power box was a fun hangout and I disagreed.

When I pulled out the screwdriver and removed the cover I saw two (ok so they were cute) little faces peeking back at me. At first they really didn’t look too nervous about being exposed to the light but then they thought better of that and decided it was in their best interest to hide.

Now obviously if they decided to come out again I’d need a way to catch them so I covered up the whole thing with a plastic container. I figured that if they were caught in the container I could stick cardboard behind it and then take the whole thing outside.

They proved too fast for me but it provided endless hours of entertainment for Violet The Cat.

-ps. we flushed them out of hiding with Peanut Butter. I’m not saying what kind without a kickback-oops, meant to say product placement.

Beginners Golf Tips Part One

I am a beginning golfer so I know what I’m talking about here. I have first-hand experience.

1) If you have the highest handicap at your club brag about it. I do. It’s the only thing I excel at in golf.

Handicap, noun: a number inverse to talent – measured by a random sample of your last few scores

2) If you play fast the others won’t hate you. Usually this means sheepishly picking up your ball after the 7th whack or so.

3) Smile a lot. No one tells you this but its not about the ball. Its about playing fair and not sulking.

4) If they tell you no one cares don’t believe it. They do. And they are talking about your bad swing and your poor drive off of the first tee too. Try to tell yourself that you have a life and feel sorry that they don’t. (refer back to number 3)

5) Depending on your club’s policies you probably aren’t going to feel sexy in those clothes. Get over it.

The Caffeine Lotion Workout

I received a catalog in the mail today for a cosmetics company whose products I usually consider to be pretty normal and which do the usual stuff like temporarily make my skin greasy or whatever.

So ok I am not making this up. They have a new lotion called [name witheld so I don't get sued] which is billed as a “liquid workout for lazy abdominals”. It is actually touted as a solution for “waist management”. Oh, and caffeine is one of the ingredients. I’m not sure where to even begin with this one it’s so stupid. But if you catch me smelling like coffee I probably spilled it on myself by accident.

I tend to do that a lot.

pssst -if you think the lotion that is going to make your abdomen flat is weird . . .