My father liked to look distinguished, work in his office, and not get his hands dirty in the garden. He grew up in the city and was happy to buy his fruit and vegetables ready for the kitchen, without having to pull weeds, or have insects crawling on him.
My mother grew up in a small rural community where everyone had a garden in their yard. She loved growing vegetables and couldn’t bear to see a bit of land wasted on lawn when you could grow a potato on it and eat it later on.
When we moved to a city house that had a big back yard, my mother wanted to put in a garden. My father put his foot down and said we would have a “nice lawn” instead.
So when my father was at work, my mother went to work too — in the back yard. Yes, she mowed the lawn, but two feet from the back fence, she found a small strip of bare dirt (that grew into a wider strip of soil) and she sneaked a few potatoes into the ground.
When the potatoes grew, my father didn’t notice — he had no interest in gardening or yardwork — but when it was time to eat the potatoes, mother and children were happy. My father grumbled when he saw all our happy faces, but grudgingly accepted that there was no changing my mother’s gardening instinct.
He just said, he preferred noodles. “Potatoes belong in the cellar.”
*****
So, the point of this little story is to say that I’m a hopeless gardener and I’m not a landscaper either.
Anything that wants to grow in my garden (except really bad weeds) is allowed to grow there.
My squash patch is now totally overgrown with too many squash plants and all sorts of things in between.
Three little squashes all in a row, holding onto my flimsy fencing for support.
What big and beautiful flowers they have.
And speaking of flowers, these poppies are volunteers. I didn’t plant them there but they’re allowed to live because they make me smile.
By the way, there are a few volunteer potatoes growing in there too.
So whom, do you think, do I take after — the city mouse, or the country mouse?
You may remember the junco who guarded her nest in an unusual place.
My poor hanging basket had to go without its usual amount of water.
I didn’t want to drown the eggs in the nest the junco had made in the flower basket.
Today I thought I would check its progress and had a surprise. This little guy looks exhausted but he’s here.
This spotted towhee has been living here for quite a while.
His wife is somewhere nearby but she’s more camera shy.
She looks much like her flashy husband, but her colours are slightly muted.
They have been nesting on the ground inside my fenced garden, usually under the thick rosemary bush. But this year I cut the rosemary back quite a bit, not thinking I was making the usual nesting area less inviting.
So the towhees chose the messiest corner of the garden where I had not weeded, and put a nest in the mess. I let the poppies grow up in the raised bed, thinking it would hide the weeds until I could get to them. Little did I know I was also helping hide a towhee nest.
I sneaked in there with my camera and got a picture of one towhee baby still in the nest. Mother had flown out when I came close but she went right back after I left. Now I’m hoping the baby will make it through the next critical days and weeks.
There’s no question of catching up with my weeding in this part of the jungle now.
Please click on the links below if you would like to take advantage of smashwords’ e-book sale. My e-books are 50% off during July.
Yesterday, I watered my hanging baskets, and, for the second time, scared up an Oregon junco, who flew up into the nearby firs and scolded me.
“How dare you pour water on me?” she chipped.
Today, I had a closer look. Yes, the junco flew out for the third time that I have disturbed her. But when I parted the flowers and looked into the base of the pot, I felt just sick to think I had been pouring water on a little junco nest of five eggs.
I felt terrible to think of what I had put her through, and that I might have hurt her eggs. I thought nesting time was over!
And now, I’m wondering how I can save my hanging basket if I don’t water it.
*****
P.S. The Smashwords sale begins today with my e-books being 50% off.
Go to the smashwords link https://www.smashwords.com/shelves/promos/ and type in my book titles in the search box at the top of the page. You can find the titles on the sidebars of all my posts.
Sale is on for the month of July.
Harriet is rooting around for the last of the hidden hazelnuts from last year’s stash. It’s getting harder to find the remaining ones and her fur is a mess every time she surfaces after “diving” under the old tree stump.
If you make the videos full screen you’ll see better as Harriet is quite small.
But as you will see from the video below, she did finally have some success. (Apologies for the last couple of blurry seconds when I tried to zoom in. I should know by now that it often doesn’t work for me.) The hazelnut she finds still has the shell on it, but she makes short work of that.
Watching Harriet, Junior (who will soon be named) tries his best to follow suit, but so far he hasn’t figured out where the nuts are buried. After all, he wasn’t even born yet when Harriet hid them.
***** All photos, courtesy of my friend Pat.
Crispin and Harriet (of Tom, Dick, and Harriet fame) have had a baby – possibly two, but the baby (or babies) has been scampering around so fast that it’s hard to tell who’s who. For sure we have one whom I’ll call Junior for lack of a name just now. It’s just a step up from No-Name.
Harriet is going crazy, trying to take care of Junior. Doesn’t he know it’s dangerous to be out in the open like that?
“Junior! Junio-o-o-o-r!” she screams. “Get over here!” See her on the stump below, calling Junior?
“But I’m hungry, Ma!” Junior complains.
“Well, come over here and have some sunflower seeds.”
“Here, I’ll try to find one under the jar. Your father is so messy. He tips the jar over and doesn’t even clean up after himself. Yes, here you go.”
“Thanks, Ma.”
Turn on your sound for a quick slice of Junior’s new life.
Can you think of a name for Junior?
wordsfromanneli 