If I had a hammer
A reader named Cathy went into action-reporter mode recently when she spied some undesirables in her yard.
Cathy certainly makes the case for a preference for a metal meat tenderizer vs. a wooden meat tenderizer ...
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October 29, 2007
October 26, 2007
Sow There! 10-26 Are you coming home yet
It’s nice to be needed and wanted — most of the time.
Tommy had some follow-up surgery this week on an injury he had a while back. Scar tissue needed to be removed in hopes that his finger would once again be able to bend and not look like some flesh-colored hook attached to his hand.
We’ve been through this before. He injured his hand and was home for several months. I learned how to wrap his hand in grocery store bags so he could take a shower and he learned how to do a lot of things around the house one-handed.
Transitions are difficult and there are just so many times he could pretend to be entertained by daytime television. Luckily, he likes to garden and learned many things he could do — one-handed.
This time we had a little more warning and had a chance to have a little pre-op conversation.
I tried to come up with a list of one-handed projects he could work on — things such as refinishing that chair we bought at a garage sale and figuring out how to fix the leak in the bathroom.
I knew things weren’t going all that well when the first day there was a fly in the house.
He had been minding his own business when a very persistent fly kept finding him. This apparently went on for quite some time because I got an exasperated phone call detailing how annoying the fly was.
What time was I coming home?
Later that day, it was exasperation about how the dog next door had been barking incessantly.
And by the way, what time was I coming home?
A few hours later, he called, victorious. He had managed to kill the fly. I must admit this made me joyful, because then he wouldn’t have another reason to call and complain about the fly.
And by the way, when was I coming home?
It’s a lot like having a puppy. A puppy is always happy when you come home, eagerly waiting by the front door, wagging his tail and full of energy.
Good thing puppies can’t call you at work and inquire about what time you will be home.
I’ve teased him a bit about this, even coming home and patting my knees and saying, “I’m home. I’m home ....” and petting the top of his head.
But I think that bit won’t be funny fairly soon.
One-handed gardening
Speaking of finding projects for a bored puppy, I called out for a professional to-do list from Missie Carpenter, a Sow There! source who worked for a local nursery for many years.
I had it in my noggin that one way to put Tommy’s mind at ease would be for him to divide my perennials one-handed.
Missie said many perennials, such as lavender, grow from a single plant and are not easy to divide.
Sometimes part of the plant will grow near the soil and roots will begin, in which case division is possible. The same is true of sage.
But if that doesn’t happen, she said older, larger perennials can be trimmed back by one-fourth or one-third. She said it’s best to wait until the dead of winter when the plant is dormant.
Now is also a good time to divide irises. The rhizomes grow slightly submerged in the soil, and should be divided when they get too crowded. You’ll know when they need to be divided because the blooms will become fewer and fewer.
Iris rhizomes look somewhat like carrots, with thick roots extending into the soil. The rhizomes can be carefully dug out and divided, with the unneeded plants put someplace else in the yard or given to a friend.
Some bulbs can be divided now, if they come back year after year, such as naked ladies. These too clump partially submerged in the soil, and should be replanted the same way.
Anyone else with some timely, one-handed garden jobs to recommend can send ideas via e-mail.
October 23, 2007
Sow There! 10-19 late bloomers
It's a time of strange surprises right now in my garden. Venturing into the side yard with the 16 tomato plants is somewhat of a letdown.
I know I have no right to be disappointed, because those plants served me just fine this summer, producing more than enough fruit for potluck salads. My freezer is also brimming with salsa and spaghetti sauce.
But it's kind of sad walking among the tomato plants now. There are flowers on almost every stem that were not devoured by tomato hornworms. The stamens seem to be begging for some off-season bee to wander by.
Yet, I know it's just a matter of time before I finally give in and yank them out.
Other parts of the yard have more surprises.
We were doing a little garden tour and I was giving helpful instructions about where Tommy could weed if he had some idle time. Some plants look a bit shabby right now, but my credo is that unless there is something more beautiful to put in that place, we might as well give that sickly-looking plant a chance to redeem itself.
This has worked with some plants, including some dianthus that miraculously revived from near death, a primrose that defiantly survived the hot summer by hiding underneath a snapdragon, and even a rose bush that sprouted from a stem haphazardly stuck in the ground after a trim.
These miracles do not go unappreciated.
Likewise, I planted some hollyhocks about six years ago by simply broadcasting some old seeds in an abandoned half barrel. Despite the fact that I have never watered them and that the ground is filled from gravel where the former tenant used to park her car, the hollyhocks return every year.
While I was pointing out which plants should live or die, we came across something new under the pink saucer rose.
Buds from bulbs were peeking up about a quarter-inch above the soil. I can only make an educated guess that they are daffodils. I'm not holding out any hope that the tulips I planted last year will bloom again, nor managed to escape demise from the resident squirrels.
Little things such as a quarter-inch of new growth can bring weeks of hope in a bleak garden.
Then there are the cosmos for which I long ago gave up.
The cosmos were planted with a box of generic spring wildflowers early last year. The spring wildflowers came and went, battling valiantly against the invading four-o-clocks that were kept barely at bay through daily yanking.
The cosmos grew, and grew, and grew. On the other side of the yard, other cosmos bloomed along with the zinnias, providing weeks of splashy color. But this cosmos over in the wildflower/four-o-clock battle appeared defiant.
I did some research and discovered that cosmos actually thrive in poor soil and really prefer if you leave them alone, meaning not bothering to water them much.
The cosmos was almost yanked several times, especially once it topped six feet and seemed useful for little more than an upright pole for the morning glories to climb. At this point, they're more than seven feet tall.
But then, as the season started to change and I found my thermal pajamas in the bottom drawer of the bureau, buds appeared.
It's as if the plant had some built-in mechanism to procreate before it was too late.
Now, as we have pumpkins resting on the front porch and ready to be carved, the cosmos are the brightest spot in the yard. White blooms about the circumference of a baseball are a reminder that given a chance, nature often surprises us.
October 17, 2007
The seeds are here
Dr. Russell made his special delivery of seed pods this week from the Gettysburg honey locust tree. These seeds are descendants of the tree where Abraham Lincoln gave the Gettysburg address.
(This is a picture of the original tree, in Gettysburg National Cemetery, near the spot where President Abraham Lincoln issued his "Gettysburg Address" Nov.19, 1863).
Readers who want a piece of this action should e-mail or write and send me their address.
Sow There! Seed pod extravaganza, P.O. Box 9, Chico CA 95927, or hhacking@chicoer.com.
The seed pods are about 16 inches long and chocolate colored. They double as percussion instruments because if you shake them, they make a cool rattling sound.
For some interesting info on the tree and its history, check out: http://www.historictrees.org/produ_ht/gettyhon_cvw.htm
October 12, 2007
Free historic seed offer
Historic tree seeds
It’s not the official “giving season” yet. However, a reader wrote in recently and said he would share some seed pods that are descendants of the Gettysburg honey locust tree. The pods are the “great-grandchildren” of the tree where Lincoln gave his Gettysburg Address.
Dr. Russell, president of the Orland Historical Society, said he got the tree from his daughter about 10 years ago.
Last year was the first year he found seed pods on it. Dr. Russell said the seed pods are about 12 inches long and are chocolate-brown.
The tree itself is deciduous, but not a remarkably colorful tree for fall foliage.
He said he’ll bring in a batch of the pods. Readers who want a few can send their name and address to: Sow There! Seed pod extravaganza, P.O. Box 9, Chico CA 95927, or hhacking@chicoer.com.
Near kitty experience
Tommy and I came close to making one of life’s big commitments this week.
One night we intermittently heard a sound like a baby crying. Every once in a while one of us would say to the other, “Did you hear that?”
Then we both heard it, this time more distinct.
I thought it sounded like a cat in heat.
Tommy went to investigate and a familiar cat came to the door.
It’s a light-gray tabby with white feet and white on her chest and under her chin. We’ve seen her around, with her distinguished lynx-like ears, and watched as she jammed toward Curious George’s wood pile.
I haven’t been ready to add a new kitty in my life.
About two years ago, Tommy ran over my cat Hollywood. Hollywood was about 17 years old and had been with me through so many good and bad times.
I still mourn him sometimes, and go out to the garden where there is a purple rose planted above where he is buried.
I’m just not ready to replace him. And if I did, it would have to be an extraordinary cat.
We’ve had serious talks about this before. I’m convinced that if Tommy had his way we would have half a dozen cats, several dogs and likely a few raccoons who visited frequently to be hand-fed.
But unless we inherit some big farm somewhere, Tommy will need to keep his idea of becoming Dr. Doolittle as merely a fantasy.
I’d consider getting a new cat, but not just any cat that comes along and looks cute.
I want to have that special feeling. I want to have my heart sing that this is the cat that I was supposed to be with.
I wasn’t necessarily feeling any of that for this gray tabby.
Of course, we have cat food in the house. We buy dog biscuits for Curious George’s dog Marni and somewhere along the line Tommy popped some cat treats in the grocery cart.
Tommy went into the kitchen and poured an entire little bowl full of Pounce kitty treats.
The cat took a couple of nibbles then left to explore under the bed, in the closet and up in the window sill.
This was proof to me that the cat was not starving.
But it did appear starving for attention.
We figured our neighbors who had the cat must not give the cat very much attention and/or didn’t pay attention to whether the cat was inside or out when it was just about to rain.
Or maybe the cat simply goes from door to door soliciting affection.
Tommy was obviously smitten. But then he is such a push-over for any animal that gives him attention, I didn’t put much import on their quick bond.
After a while, the cat got friendly and perched onto Tommy’s lap, snuggling its nose near his ear.
I began to get that sinking feeling, dreading the conversation we might have to have about how I didn’t think this was the cat for me. Plus, if the cat really wanted to ingratiate itself into the household, she would be giving equal purr-time to both the mistress and master of the house.
Then the cat nipped Tommy on the nose, drawing blood.
When there was the first break in the rain, we kindly booted the kitty out.
It did, however, raise some interesting feelings in me. Maybe I am ready to start thinking about getting a new kitty in the future.
My co-worker Laurie said I had better watch out. Even just thinking about possibly getting a new pet in the future means that I am now emitting the “kitty vibe,” and that some time soon the perfect new housemate will arrive.
Hmmmmm.
Tracking down a pet
By the way, while this important discussion ensued, Laurie and I talked about the topic of pet owners making sure their pets have collars.
A wedding ring can prevent married people from needlessly being bothered by people who are in the market for a mate.
Likewise, a pet collar can let someone interested in a stray pet know to look for the proper owner rather than becoming sadly attached.
A media release came into the newsroom about a program to microchip your pet.
It will be held Saturday at the Chico Equestrian Center Arena on Manzanita, across from the Elks Lodge. Look for the North Valley Animal Disaster Group signs.
The donation for the chip is $25, plus $25 to the company that runs the chip database.
This is a big discount from the usual cost of the process, said Sandy Doolittle, who works for the group. Plus, the donation is tax-deductible.
She said people who come across a stray can take the animal to almost any animal care provider and have the animal scanned for free to see if it has a chip with which to track down an owner.
October 05, 2007
Sow There! 10-5 Horn worms and photos
I pulled into the driveway just after dark this week and my best friend next door and Tommy were barbecuing.
As I lugged some groceries into the house, Tommy yelled over his shoulder that there was a present for me on the front porch.
It was a few minutes before I returned outside and he reminded me again.
A bowl was on the top step covered with some aluminum foil. I figured it was a nice piece of meat and wasn’t ready yet to eat.
I dallied some more and another reminder was bellowed, this time more impatiently, that I should check the front porch.
As I approached the well-announced gift, Tommy temporarily left his post at the barbecue to watch the expression on my face.
Under the aluminum foil were two fatty horn worms, still clinging to two green tomato stems. The stems had been stripped of their leaves by the glutinous pests.
I squealed with delight.
Tommy had obviously had fun taunting the horn worms earlier in the evening and he wanted to share his discoveries.
“Look closely at their mouths,” he said, while holding the bowl dangerous close to my face.
“They have two full sets of teeth. That’s probably why they can eat so fast.”
Since the time he had captured the horn worms and the time I unwrapped them, they had excreted some horn-worm treats, bright green globs of processed tomato leaves. These wonders of nature merited a few minutes of idle observation.
Then it was time for the ritualistic killing of the worms. Tommy took the garden clippers and lopped one and then the other, causing dark green goo to drip onto the front porch.
Of course, we snapped photographs.
Photo time capsule
I spent some time going through photographs this week. A good number of them include the rubber chicken.
For the most part we have had luck asking people to pose with the rubber chicken, including members of law enforcement, stray dogs, Dancing Dave, the keyboardist and bass player from the band Survivor, Santa and his Yule Log helpers and various family members.
For some reason, we’ve never found a place where the rubber chicken isn’t welcome.
Over the years we've taken the chicken to Burney Falls and the Lassen Park sulfur springs. In San Francisco, chicken visited the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, the wax museum and Chinatown.
Going through photographs is fun because it’s like having your own time capsule.
Photo albums can come in handy during those “bumpy” times in life — when things seem a little dull or you start wondering whether its time to make new decisions about how to live life in the future.
Those captured moments on film can be a reminder of how much things have changed and improved — or not.
In the garden, for example, there are photos of the lawn in the spring after new growth had sprouted. This is before the gopher and the mole found the yard.
From other photos we had a clear picture of just how much the 10-year-old next door has grown. Just a few seasons ago we were worried when he tried to use the frame for the carport as a jungle gym.
Back then he had to balance on a lawn chair to reach the lower poles. Now he can just stand under it and reach the bars from the ground.
We went through about 25 packets of film and picked out the best ones to create a new album.
Three photos were taken the weekend I met Tommy's parents. I remembered being so nervous and deciding to wear a sun dress so I would appear to be a nice, sweet girl.
They know better now.
Some photos conjure up fairly elaborate stories.
One photo is of a pumpkin Tommy carved for me when I was at work. When I pulled up in the driveway the lights went out at both my house and at the house of my best friend next door.
In the bay window was the pumpkin, with the words “I love you” carved out and glowing.
My best friend next door and the then-8-year-old were peering out from their bedroom window.
For some reason, we took photographs out at the river, the day my best friend's fiancé died in a car crash.
We were bundled up in jackets and sat at the edge of the river, quietly, as the sun went down.
I remember that day because we sat there for hours, none of us saying much, just listening to the river.
The photos at the Vina Monastery day-trip still bring back the magic of that day. We met a monk named Rafael who gave us a personal tour of the Chapel stones. They date back to 1200 A.D. and somehow found their way from Spain to Vina, where the monks are in the process of having them be reassembled.
Interspersed with all these memories are the adventures of chicken, including the time he was kidnapped for the weekend by our friends Steffanie and Jack. Those photos are a bit too risqué to put in the album.