Pheasant Under Grass

September seems to have thankfully brought back Summer. It has been lovely and warm - not hot - but in the 70F. range for the most part, and the garden is taking advantage of it.

This morning, and all last night, was windy. The infamous "Gale Force Winds on the Straits of Juan de Fuca" blowing like mad. This afternoon is what I would refer to as "breezy" but not "windy". There were lots of windfall apples on the ground this morning when we struggled in the wind to tie up the beach mats and shower curtain on the boat. As I tried to deactivate a doggy mine, using my doggy mine deactivation tools of course, it blew up...all over my hand. GAK! I am not a squeamish person, but doggy mines on my hand...eeeeewwwwwww! Needless to say, I dropped everything and ran - ok, for you purists, I hobbled quickly - to wash my hands!

Richard left to begin work at noon, and I reminded him to pick me up a case of tiny 125ml jelly jars. I found recipes and instructions online, at Not Martha's Blog, for making "tiny pies", that is, making and freezing or baking miniature fruit pies in the tiny jars and I just HAVE to try it. Last night I let my mind roam, free associating to see what other recipes for tiny items baked in a tiny jar to try, and came up with several: mini deep dish pizza - a suggestion from someone online - scones, focaccia, tiny cinnamon pull-aparts, mini cheesecake, Brioche, Christmas cake, fruit crisp, tiny cinnamon rolls, yeast buns. But I need the tiny jars. Yes, I had several boxes of them. No, I can't find them anywhere. Yes I am fixated on this.

In the afternoon, the kids and I wandered back out in the sunshine to the garden yard, where I did some more watering and they did doggy things: sniffed out bugs, rolled in things I don't want to know, lazed in the warm sunshine. Once I heard a strange noise coming from behind the house. The dogs looked that way, then went back to their sun tanning. I didn't get concerned, but I did tiptoe to the fence and try to see what made the noise, a kind of cracking, like maybe a tree branch broke. Hmmmmm. Maybe we should go inside.

Inside, I read the news online, sort digital photo files to take to Walmart for prints to send to Mom and Dad, drink an ice tea. A few times I peripherally take note of the cry and wing beating of a Ring Necked Pheasant in the yard, something I haven't heard since last spring.

As I walk into the laundry room, I see movement outside the window blind. It is the pheasant! And he sees me. I turn quickly, going to get my camera. Pheasants are wily creatures and I was unsuccessful in the spring trying to photograph him. Maybe this time...

...through a mini blind, and the dirty window behind it, half way down the photo, in the middle, there, right there, there he is. Not a Pulitzer Prize winner, but I did manage to get him, sort of. I preset my camera, zoomed the lens in a bit, slithered into the room around to the right, sneaking up like a Ninja, pointed the camera, set the focus and snapped. Twice. He ducked down, then scurried through the tall grass. Sigh. Better luck next time.

Hah, not bloody likely.

After dinner the dogs alert to something in the yard. A Cute Little Island Black Bear? A Cute Little Island Mule Deer? A Mole Person? Nope, just a cat. A black and white one we call Sylvester, who hangs around the farm, hunting in the fields and fishing in the creek. Time to take them out to the garden yard and put the boat to bed.

As I go, I deactivate more doggy mines, but this time, I am smart. I wear plastic gloves, just in a case a doggy mine blows up again.

Back inside there is an e-mail from Kelly. He asks: "Hows the great spider hunt going? I can see one of the dead spiders kids coming after you, ala the Mandy Patinkin character in Princess Bride, saying: my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die!"

Gee, thanks Kelly. Like I needed THAT visual in my brain!

The Lady or the Spider

It's early, and while I am not up, you just know that Richard is. Bless his heart he rolled up the beach mats and shower curtain on my garden boat. By the time I wander out at 9:30am, it is already +25 in the shade and going up. It's hot and airless in the garden yard. Even the dogs are listless in the heat, laying in the sun getting their daily dose of Vitamin D.

We bathed and deflea-ed the dogs yesterday, oh happy day, and it has improved their disposition immensely. Mine too.

It's been really hot for the last few days, and I am draggy. I do ok in heat up to about +28. After that, I fade. Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining about the heat - Lord knows we suffered so much with the cold and rain this past winter that I swore I wouldn't complain if it got hot. This is me not complaining!

My plants are suffering and as our water well is getting quite low, Richard is hauling a tank full tonight after work for me to pour on them. I wander back into the house where I have 4 fans on full blast, two in the kitchen, one in the living room and one in the back room to help keep it cool. We have a window air conditioner but it doesn't make sense to use it for four days and then have to haul it out of the window and back upstairs again, so upstairs it stays. I turn on the living room computer.

The phone rings and it is Kate. My sister has never been a gardener, always insisting she has a black thumb, not the green thumb that I have inherited from our parents and grandparents. Recently she and Jon moved to a cute little cottage in the country outside of Sidney and she has decided to try gardening on a small basis. They have purchased several gorgeous hanging baskets and filled window boxes with geraniums, petunias, alyssum, lobelia as well as herbs. We talked about my latest blog post, Fruit Fly Olympics, and she laughed and said "I'll do you one better".

I should tell you that Kate and I are quite brave women. No, really. Not too much frightens us. Ok, well bears frighten me, but that's a different story. We come from tough, pioneer stock, and both think humor is a great defense, using it all the time. We have both backed down large, aggressive, annoying people with just a few soft words. And controlled our children with quelling looks.

Remember I said not too much frightens us? Well, um, there is one thing...one thing that can make us both run screaming into the night startling wildlife, and our husbands, into near palpitations. Not a big thing, by most standards, but to us...to us it is HUGE. And hairy. And leggy. Very, very leggy. It is the one thing that causes an extreme atavistic response in both of us - that completely uncontrollable, shaking, shivering, yes, even drooling, God-help-me-it's-gonna-get-me, screaming meemee's, Richard-bring-the-shotgun-and-load-it-with-double-ought-buckshot, response. Um hm, that one. It is one of the biggest phobia's known to mankind. I am speaking, of course, of arachnophobia.

Yup, fear of spiders.

I know that the spiders on the Island are not BIG by tropical standards, like the dinner plate size ones of the Panama Canal Zone. However...the ones we have here, especially close to the water like down-Island were Kate lives, are as big as your fist.

Yes, REALLY.

And Kate had the misfortune to have a run-in with one, only that morning. Remember I said she had taken up gardening? You know, watering, weeding, fertilizing, dead-heading (remember, I had written in my blog that the Fruit Flies were doing a forward dive pike from a standing start). Kate was dead-heading her Begonias, totally involved - in the zone as they say - when a huge, hairy, teeth-gnashing, 8 legged, foot stomping, spider, grabbed her by the arm, shook her, and told her to bugger off and stop disturbing it's sleep!

No, honest!

Ok, well, maybe it grabbed, er, landed on her hand and scared the bejeezus out of her. She said she did a triple back flip and spiked her landing, worthy of a Gold Medal in Gymnastics at the Olympics for sure. I believe her. I've been there. That gut clenching, adrenaline fueled, eye crossing, get-out-of-my-way, door busting, fear.

But I am in awe of her triple back flip. That's impressive. I've never done that one. My personal best spider response was the 100 meter dash in just under 10 seconds. That and the 1000 decibal scream but that's nothing much, Kate has that mastered too.

Really!

Is that a skeptical look I see on your face?

Obviously you haven't seen our Island spiders up close and personal as they dash out from under your computer desk, grab you by the ankle, and threaten you with grievous bodily harm if you don't get out of their way.

That's when Kate and I mastered the splatting foot stomp.

That and her triple back flip.

I told you we were quite brave women.

Bear Berries

I have plans for today. First, wander out to the yard and see what's new. On the potting table in the yard, my Gazania is FINALLY blooming. It is one I saved over from last year, along with lots of other plants, in the back porch. All the others started blooming 3 months ago, but this Gazania has been really slow growing. The wait has been worth it though, and it has produced a brilliant golden-yellow blossom with maroon accents. I notice it has more buds too. Perhaps it will bloom well into fall.

Moving on, I check the progress of my Strawberry Rhubarb plant that Dad sent me through the mail. It is doing amazingly well, having 3 new leaves and another leaf bud showing. Rhubarb is one of my favorite fruits. It mixes well with all other fruit. Everything appears good by the house so we move on to the garden boat. Richard rolls up the garden hose - silly man, I am just going to pull it back out today and water later - so he can pick up the wind fall apples without tripping over it.

We talk about the garden boat, and ways to expand this method of gardening next year. He doesn't know it yet, but I am already thinking about finding more large containers to put in this yard and the front dog yard, and fill them with dirt to plant vegetables in. That means we have to increase the height of the fence too. Think I'll wait to spring that one on him for a while yet.

The phone rings as I go in the kitchen door. It is the hospital in Comox with news about my surgery. The booking nurse informs me my surgeon, Dr. Sundby, is leaving until the end of October and then will be gone again for six months at the beginning of the New Year. He is going to Afghanistan. So my window of opportunity for surgery is small. Either have it November or December, or wait at least a year. Needless to say, I choose November and November 21st is the tentative date. I don't mind recuperating in the winter. I can't be outside gardening anyway, so will be inside planning my garden, and learning to walk again.

Richard leaves for work, and I decide to garden a bit, plant those plants I didn't get planted last week, then vacuum the floors. The dogs are in the yard with me, and when I break for an iced tea, they follow me in. I get caught up on the living room computer trying to solve the puzzle of my TV Tuner card, and why I can't get it to work properly. I forget all about the vacuum.

At 2pm, Mason is sitting with his chin on the patio door sill, eyes half closed, dozing. Suddenly he flies out the door barking an alert. Pippi and the rest fly after him, and a huge commotion ensues. Mason barks at the world in general throughout the day, but this bark is different. I step outside to see what the fuss is about. They are all standing up at the fence like meercats, frozen, looking through the holly and hawthorn to the other side of the driveway, and I see it...

...BLACK BEAR! Quickly I herd them inside, lock the patio door, close the curtains. Then I shut and lock the kitchen door, pull down the blinds, make sure back door is locked and close the back patio door into the small dog pen.

I know, I know, locking the doors and closing the blinds may be a little irrational - ok, a lot irrational - but it is how I cope with bears in the yard.

Then I make a decision and grab my camera. I sneak out the livingroom patio door, skulk across the grass, around the big cherry tree - using it for cover, and then over to the fence, all the while watching the bear. He is in the trees heading for the mouth of the driveway and I think he is going to exit the yard and head across Cherry Creek Road. I am wrong. He chooses instead to head towards the Saskatoon's - Kate's favorites - at the bottom of the drive. I stealthily photograph him as best I can, trying to zoom in on him as he eats, even going so far as to tape a short video of him.

At one point a noise on the road frightens him, and he takes off running but hunger overcomes fear, and he soon turns back to the berries again. I turn back to the house.

As I enter, I realize my hands are a little bit shaky, an adrenalin reaction to my "fight or flight" response - I choose flight - to bears.

I move from room to room, peeking through blinds, around curtains, and 6 little white dogs trail with me. I begin to feel like the Pied Piper. We see no further sign of the bear. Still, we wait 2 full hours before venturing out again. Mason stays on the step outside the patio door, watching and sniffing the breeze. Meanwhile, Pippi parks herself just inside the door. They are on guard.

Later I go out to the garden yard and take more photo's of my boat garden. I am afraid that one of these days that little bear is going to get bold enough to climb the apple tree that hangs out over the boat. Then, with my creature luck, he will venture too far out on a limb - I can hear the cracking of the branch in my mind - and my garden boat will be history.

An irresistible force meets an immovable object.

Irresistible force 1
Immovable object 0

Hence the photo's.

Paranoid? Who, me!!!??

Muttering Crows & Rosie's Nose

Another gorgeous Valley morning and we wander again to the garden. As I roll up the beach mats and the shower curtain on the boat, I hear them coming...the Muttering Murder of Crows. They do like to sit and watch me work in the yard. I cannot tell them apart, but they have distinctive personalities. One is a real clown. Today there is a lot of noise out by the bridge beside our gate. Mason, my Bichon boy, finds it all quite annoying and he lets the world at large know this by barking his opinions.

I move about the garden yard picking up windfall apples and Pippi wanders with me, nosing about, checking out bugs and things that move. The other girls are sunbathing and sniffing the gentle breeze. In the background there are crow mutterings and then...something else. It sounds like a dog barking. A dog barking up in the cherry tree behind the house. Hmmmmm. I had a dog once who climbed trees. Had to watch Annie like a hawk or she would be 25 feet up as fast as you could blink. But I knew none of the Bichon's were climbers.

Orienting on the Wild Cherry tree, I see the culprit. One of the Muttering Murder of Crows has taken up a new vocation - that of dog mimic. Mason barks, and the crow barks, only it comes out more of a "mark, mark, mark". He hasn't mastered that "b" in bark that canines have. I snicker and shake my head at his cleverness. Time for a cappuccino.

Today is Bente's Anniversary and I have decided to go to Naesgaards and purchase a big bag of fresh, green, garden peas for her as a present. Now that may sound like an odd present, but it is one I know she will love, being a green-garden-pea addict like she is. I meet her at Quality Foods to give her her gift and she giggles with delight, immediately diving in and eating two peas. I am pleased that she is pleased.

I grill steaks to perfection - rare - for our dinner tonight and cook potatoes and corn. I made the mistake of using a purchased grill rub instead of making my own and the purchased rub doesn't agree with me. Soon I am sitting on the bed and watching television, attempting to digest dinner.

Richard is thumping about upstairs, moving things, who knows what, but it annoys the dogs and they periodically run hooting and barking out to the kitchen letting him know how they feel about the noise. This goes on a few times, and each time I try and shush them and each time I am unsuccessful. Sigh. Finally at 10:30pm I can't take it anymore. This time there is whining, barking and growling as well as a soft thump, so it is time to investigate.

Rounding the corner I notice that the gate is on the floor, Pippi is trapped in the kitchen and there are 4 Bichons gathered in a circle around Rosie. And there is something dark, and hairy on the floor at Rosie's feet. I swiftly cross the floor. Rosie just as swiftly grabs the dark and hairy thingy in her mouth. I even more swiftly grab Rosie by the scruff of the neck and hoist her up before she swallows whatever that dark and hairy thing is. Rushing to the kitchen I holler up the stairs to Richard that I really need help and he comes to my aid.

"Rosie has something in her mouth and I need you to get it out before she swallows it" I holler. Out of the corner of my eye I see something dangling from the corner of her mouth. "And please tell me that isn't a...

"...mouse!" Richard replies as he pries her jaws open and removes the vile, disgusting, well-chewed and very dead little mouse.

"Awwwgggghhhhh!" I reply.

The mousie remains are quickly dispatched into the bushes and an extremely annoyed Rosie rushes around the kitchen looking for more mice. Where she found it is not a mystery. The gate on the floor answers that question - Rosie, and the others, must have chased it behind the gate where it leans against the wall. When Rosie nosed it out behind the gate, the gate fell, and she grabbed it. Where the mouse came from remains a mystery, although I have a habit of leaving the back patio door open through out the day when I am home, an inviting portal for tiny mice.

Time for bed, my stomach has had enough today, and Rosie has a new moniker: Rosie Mousie Killer. She loves it.

I'd rather she kept her kills outside.

I am glad she got the mouse before it got into my room though.

Hmmmm. Wonder if that mouse was an advance scout for the Mole People.

The Ladybug and the Tiger Slug

Summer is back after a week of rain. The Valley is basking in sunshine and so is the garden yard and so am I. The Bichons and I wander out in the yard at our usual 10am, check the mini pea and bean patch by the shed first. I look for and find the two peas that managed to survive the Mole People so far, hidden beneath bean leaves. My mind notices that there is one pea from each of the two varieties that got planted, from about 100 pea seeds in all, that have survived - one seems to be doing well, one not so well. By now I have become quite philosophical about it all and give a shrug.

The kids suddenly alert that "der be Monstahs inna yahd!" I walk over to the fence where they are, looking towards the big pear tree and see cute little Island Doe Mule Deer and her adorable twin fawns. Richard had mentioned seeing them on several occasions, the most recent of which was over at the barn. What he saw goes to prove how truly clever deer are. He heard sounds coming from the corral, and knowing the cattle were all out in the pasture, went to check to see what was going on. He was surprised to see the twin fawns there. The doe had put them in the pen for safekeeping while she was off looking for food. They were running back and forth, but made no attempt to jump out. He left them alone so as not to frighten them

I wander back to the garden boat to roll up the beach mats and shower curtain. The boat is lush, no other way to describe it: tomatoes everywhere, the remaining pea plants with pea pods filling out, zucchini starting to form, flowers blooming. Honey bees are buzzing everywhere I look. Meandering around, I come to the Fern leaf Dill. There in its heart, as busy as can be, is a bright, orange Ladybug. She is gorgeous against the green foliage and yellow blossom of the dill.

My Garden Boat started out as an experiment. I knew I could get flowers to grow in it - after all it is just a big flower pot - but wasn't sure what, if any, vegetables would thrive. Now I have my answer: tomatoes - check; jalapeno peppers - check; peas - check; yellow zucchini - check; onions - check; beans - check; herbs of all kinds - big check; and of course flowers.

I move around the far side where the corn has tiny cobs forming silk - 1, 2, 3, 4...scrunchy face! The slugs have been here eating the silk from one of the tiny corn cobs. My eyes go slitty and shift from side to side looking for more slug evidence. There, a Tiger Slug! I quickly pick and flick him over the fence and across the drive.

Time for cappuccino. We wander back inside.

It's afternoon now and I am a baker. Yes, I am still trying to figure out the recipe booklet for the new bread machine. I found a great Brioche recipe on the Internet - the one in the booklet has incorrect measurements - that I changed a bit and mixed up in the machine. I decided to make Cinnamon Raisin Brioche, and when the dough was finished it's first rise in the machine pan, I pressed it out on the counter into a rough rectangle, slathered it in brown sugar, cinnamon, and raisins, then rolled it up to form a loaf. Oh the dough is soooooo silky it can't help but be delish! And the aroma of it baking is mouth watering, to say the least. My mind is abuzz with variations on a Brioche theme.

While it bakes, we go back to the garden yard to do more gardening. The watermelon plant I put in 2 months ago has failed to thrive so I brutally yank it out by the roots and toss it over the Disco CD fence - an appeasement to the cute little Island Buck Mule Deer. In it's place I two zucchini plants that have been sitting on the potting table for a while. I'm curious to see how they do.

It's evening now and Richard comes out to help put the garden boat to bed. As we work, I tell him about the corn silk and the Tiger Slug and what I did to the slug when I found it. He gives me a smirk as he walks away, saying "Are you sure that was a good idea? I mean, with the way your luck has been running with critters around here...now his Tiger Slug buddies will probably come in the night to avenge your attack on him!"

I snort. "Yeah, righ..." I start to say and then I flash on an army of Tiger Slugs and Black Slugs squiggling through the fence to the garden yard, some dragging their deceased slug brother on a litter, while others brandish mini garden implements and still more carry flaming torches to light their way. I give my head a shake. The stuff of nightmares.

Still...I don't think I'll take the dogs out in the yard after dark for a few days.

You just can't be too careful.

War and Peas

I am a gardener. Today I planted two kinds of peas: Laxton's Progress and an edible podded Sugar Snap Peas. I planted them in a narrow patch of earth measuring 12 feet long by 20 inches wide in the garden yard, up against a shed. Good shelter, southern exposure and when the sun hits it, lots of warmth. Way back in May, Richard had stapled stucco wire to the shed for me. First it was too cold to plant anything, and then we did the Garden Boat, so nothing got planted in that narrow strip of earth. Until now...

Today I planted the peas right smack up against that shed where they can climb the wire and give me pails and pails of crisp green peas. Pardon me? What's that? I am being a tad optimistic, you say? It's the middle of July, you say? Yes...so?

I live in a valley. Not just any valley but the Alberni Valley. On an Island in the Pacific. And not just any Island, but VANCOUVER ISLAND. Our weather patterns here are, well, different. We have microclimates. Wikipedia defines a microclimate as: a geographical zone where the climate differs from the surrounding area. The term may refer to areas as small as a few square feet (for example a garden bed) or as large as many square miles (for example a valley). And in my microclimate garden bed, in the valley, I planted peas; and 2 Patio tomato plants, 1 Roma tomato plant, 5 Celebrity Tomato plants, 2 Sage herb plants & one Thyme plant.

I know peas like it a bit cooler, so by planting the tomatoes, sage and thyme in front of them, I reason, they will have some shade on their toes and will keep growing. The tomatoes, sage and thyme will get lots of sun, which they love. In a microclimate like the garden yard, you can grow two crops a year. It's just that no one I know of ever does and the cute little Island Mule Deer ate most of the pea crop in my Garden Boat and I really, really wanted some home grown garden peas this year and no cute little Island Mule Deer, or cute little Island Bush Bunny, is going to stop me from my goal!

I planted the peas really thick. I mean REALLY THICK. My dad always planted his peas that way. Soak the peas overnight in water. Then chicken wire strung along the row, peas planted on either side of the wire and just as thick as you can. Not spaced out one or two pea seeds every few inches...oh no. Just as thick as you can along both sides of the wire. Lots of fertilizer. He harvested 5 gallon pail after 5 gallon pail of peas by growing them vertically. It's what I did in the garden boat and what I did by the shed.

In the photo at the top of the page, the Laxton's Progress is on the left up against the wall and the Sugar Snap peas are on the right...maybe. You see a wind came up and blew the empty seed packets around so they became mixed up and I am not entirely sure I have them right, sigh. I will have to wait until the plants produce pods to know for sure.

Oh and did I mention the Marigolds? I have all these Marigold seeds I saved from last year. I planted a big swath of them between the peas in the garden boat and they grew like crazy! Just broadcast the seeds heavily, watered them well, covered with a thin layer of potting soil, watered again and they are now 3 to 4 inches high and loaded with buds. That is my plan for the rest of the open space in that micro garden.

Now if I can just find another open space to put the cucumber, zucchini and acorn squash plants I bought. Hmmmmmm. Say, Richard, what about over there in the corner where the shed and the house meet? What do you mean you don't think so??!!!