Tommy pulled a Lucy Ricardo.
We’ve all done that in our lives, a moment when we are a total dork and manifest a silly scenario worthy of 1950’s sitcoms.
We were staying at my mother’s house in Redding. Mom left us a key and said we could have the run of the house. She has a hot-tub and a beautiful garden, not to mention the “white room” which is filled with white lace and a comfortable mattress. If mom doesn’t open a B&B upon retirement it will be a travesty.
There is lattice on her back porch with white Christmas lights and little tree frogs slightly larger than a quarter that climb up the wall of the house. They peek up from the little trays that set under her outdoor house plants.
We’ve named them all after Russian dancers.
What’s not to love?
Tommy and I pretended like we were staying at a bed and breakfast. It was all very authentically bed and breakfast style except for the moment where we write a big-fat check.
An added bonus was that mom did not mind that we brought eight loads of laundry. What a great person I was born from.
We went to the center of the Sundial Bridge, in the middle of the Sacramento River, and danced to the swing band that was playing landside. We weren’t the only ones dancing, so the feeling of being big-time dorks was lessened.
At one point Tommy wanted a picture with me and the chicken and the security guard.
I toyed with using my fake Swedish tourist accent, but after practice on some German tourists I decided it wasn’t authentic enough. So plan B was to tell the security guard we were traveling from Colorado and I asked him to pose with me.
Of course, he was from Colorado. Hmmmm. I told him I was from Boulder.
But that’s another story.
After the night was over at our pseudo B&B, we turned into house maids to repair some damage we had done to Mom’s house.
While I was showering in the outdoor shower near the alstromeria, Tommy was securing the dishes in the dishwasher.
We were about to switch places and I was cleaning up the counter when the soap started bubbling up out of the dishwasher.
I couldn’t help but crack up and let it continue to bubble over the bottom of the machine. I can’t remember if it was an “I Love Lucy” episode, “The Brady Bunch” or Michael Keaton in “Mr. Mom” where they had a scene where soap in the washing machine and bubbles filled up the laundry room. Possibly it was all three. Everyone has had a mishap with liquid soap in a washing appliance.
The soap bubbled up all over Mom’s floor, gurgling and hissing like a rabid dog.
I must admit, thankfully, that I have never actually been a witness of a rabid dog.
Tommy came out in a towel and ran around for about a minute with his hand on his forehead.
I said words of encouragement such as: “Lucy, you have a lot of ‘splaning to do.”
He had used Ivory soap because Mom was out of dishwasher soap.
Note to everyone, if you need to, substitute dry laundry soap.
Tommy stated simply: “Next time I’ll let you do the dishes.”
Divide and conquer
Of note at mom’s house is the lack of irises.
My neighbor Curious George inherited a bed of irises from the previous tenant that are woefully in need of dividing.
I consider it a public service to help him with his dilemma.
Irises do well in Chico and tootling about town on my bicycle I have seen entire yards dedicated to them.
It makes one wonder about people who would devote their entire yard to one plant, which blooms during one season and then is done. Here I am trying to find some magical balance between perennials and seasonal bloomers. Now I’ve been focusing on ‘mums.
George is out of town so my plan is to liberate him of some of his under-needed irises under cover of darkness.
I have permission, of course.
The Iowa State University Web site has some tips for dividing irises, to which I have added some Sow There! wisdom.
Gather up your tools: Sturdy trowel, garden hose, plastic bag, cute boyfriend, preferably whom is not wearing a shirt, optional — flashlight. Soak irises the day before so ground is damp, but not soggy, or wait for October rain.
Have boyfriend (or other significant other or relative) carefully dig up the rhizomes. There should be a thing that looks like a dried carrot on the surface of the soil. Attached are roots that go down 4-6 inches. Shake the dirt from the roots and carefully lay the rhizomes into the plastic bag.
It’s pretty simple, so don’t stress out. Plus, if a few die in transport, you’re still doing a good thing for the irises as irises quit blooming if not divided after 3-4 years.
If you don’t have any friends, or a mom to give the plants to, travel by night and plant them in an empty lot or at someone’s house whose lawn has been ravaged by gophers and moles.
Iowa State suggests adding well rotted manure or compost into the soil where the iris will be replanted.
Space 12-24 inches apart.
Give cute boyfriend or significant other an “atta-boy.”
Don’t expect most excellent results the first year. The second and third year should produce more appreciated blooms.
For info. on dividing perennials, another noble garden autumn task, check
out. www.garden.org.
