Wet Your Whistle for Wetlands

Having served my six months’ house arrest sentence final week of work, I handed back my uniform today. When I mentioned this to my next door neighbour, her response was as vigourous as Australian blogfriend Alyson’s: “Congratulations! Good for you!”

With worldwide reassurance that I had done the right thing, then, I strolled over to the plaza for a celebratory bottle of New Brunswick’s own Picaroons Timber Hog Stout. Just one bottle; the combination of empty calories, emptied pocketbook,  and teatotal parents-in-law has served to cut my consumption from a serving a day to a serving a week.

 But this is a special occasion, and the Picaroons pint bottles are sold by the each.

On the way to the Cold Room, however, I had to pass the Australian wines shelf, and of course I had to stop. What was the name of that wine company that helps preserve wetlands? Ah! Here it is:

E.g. and I were first introduced to Banrock Station wines at the Pear Tree restaurant in our former Toronto neighbourhood of Cabbagetown. Sometime later, I learned that Banrock Station owns and is restoring the wetland which surrounds its vineyards. That in itself, I figure, is a good enough reason to purchase their wines and support their work.

So today I picked up a Shiraz Mataro and an unwooded Chardonnay — might as well share my good fortune — and learned something more on the back label.

“For over 10 years we have proudly supported projects that include Atlantic Salmon recovery in Canada, flamingo protection in Kenya, wetland restoration, climate change research and water saving initiatives. Our dedication is more than $5 million to 60 projects in 12 countries.”

A peek at their web site informed me that one of their contributions is to the Calgary Zoo Whooping Crane breeding centre; another is to the more nearby Shubenacadie Wildlife Park in Nova Scotia; and a third is to a project at my old stomping grounds, the annual “Paddle the Don!” canoe/kayak race in support of restoring Toronto’s Don River.

I’ll drink to that.

What projects is Banrock Station supporting in your neck of the woods? Go here to find out, then lemme know.

And We Don’t Even Like Swallowing Flies

Humans. Humph.

Good morning! Here is a poem I’ve just written. While it isn’t a limerick, I hope you’ll find it every bit as silly. (And who knows? Maybe I can move the sidebarred parrot poem to the limericks page and write a fresh one of those, too!)

With Feet and Frogs Flying

One on a jog’ll
Look down when a frog’ll
Retreat to its wat’ry abode;
The startling splash
On an early morn dash
Brings a smile to lighten the load.

But with mirrored great goggle,
The dour, disturbed frog’ll
Disdainfully shake its green head;
It knows that it’s healthier,
More pleasant, and stealthier
To go for a good swim instead.

Soilless Blogging

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cuca and some pals curl up for a Friday nap.

Hi, people!

My friend, both real and virtual, Shelley of Yasashiikuma Kennels, sent me one of those ice-breaker quizes yesterday. I decided to post my answers today for a quick, landscape-free blog entry.

Somewhere along the line, the quiz skipped from #22 to #24; the omission was noted by an astute previous respondent, so I filled it in again.

The most curious thing about this quiz is that it’s entitled, “38 Odd Things About Me”. Perhaps whoever deleted #23 was offended by a question regarding a true oddity, such as, “Do you have three of any body part usually assigned in pairs?” Otherwise, the quiz is pretty tame.

Anyway, have a glance through this, and feel free in my comments section to respond to any of these questions yourself.

Have a good weekend! 

1. Do you like bleu cheese?  YUM!! 

2. Have you ever been bitten by a dog?   I’ve been gummed a lot. 

3. Do you own a gun? Not even a grease gun. 

4. What Flavor Kool-Aid was your favorite?  Tangerine. 

5 . Do you get nervous before a doctor appointment?  No, but I go into convulsions when they draw blood; not a pretty sight. 

6. What do you think of hot dogs ?   One more good motivation for becoming a vegetarian. 

7. Do you give money or other things to panhandlers?  Panhandling is illegal in Saint John. 

8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Usually coffee; but if I’m up on a night shift, I prefer tea with lots of milk. 

9. Can you do a push up?  No, my boobs wouldn’t fill the cups. 

10. What’s your favorite piece of jewelry?  Jewelry? Does a velcro-strap wristwatch count? 

11. What is your favorite hobby?   Playing the soprano recorder. No, blogging. No wait, choral singing. Oh, hang on, crocheting. No, I know, birdwatching. Umm…define “favourite”. 

12. Do you have A.D.D.?   Nope. 

13. Do you wear glasses?    Since I was 12. 

14 Middle name?  Elizabeth. 

15. Name 3 thoughts at this exact  moment. It’s time for bed; it’s lovely having a doggy curled up on either side of me; supper was good tonight. 

16. Name 3 beverages you drink the most. Water, coffee, milk. 

17. Current worry?  I’ve just resigned from my job (give back the uniform on Monday); I’m taking a holiday from worrying right now.

18. Current hate right now?  The way this bloody gmail program jumps around while I’m trying to fill in these answers. 

19. Favorite place to be?   At home. 

20. How did you bring in the new year?  Sleeping.  

21. Where would you like to go?  I’d like to visit my blogfriends in Ontario, the States and Australia. Stop in for an hour or two on my way through their various necks of the woods. 

22.  Name three people who will complete this?  No. 

23. Who removed #23, and why? Whoever it was had never, ever revealed that information, and wasn’t about to start.

24. What color shirt are you wearing?  White undershirt, blue turtleneck, blue button shirt, grey fisherman sweater 

26. Can you whistle?   Sure can. 

27. Where are you now?  On the dog sofa, with Cai and Fergus. 

28. Would you be a pirate?   No; after menopause, it’s very hard to have a wooden leg. 

29. What songs do you sing in the shower?  Whatever’s in my head at the moment, spirituals, classical, big band…but usually to “doo” instead of words. 

30. What is your favorite girl’s name?  Hannah. 

31. Favorite  boy’s name?  Jonathan. 

32. What’s in your  pocket right now?  Keys, handkerchief, and cell phone in left pocket, wallet in right. 

33. Last thing that made you laugh?  ”Dennis’s Diary of Destruction”, “Cody Bear’s Friends”, “Laugh in the Sun”, Cai being silly with his toy, Fergus and his lopsided grin… 

34. What traits do you hate most in people?  Untrustworthiness. 

35. Worst injury you’ve ever had?  ?? 

36. Do you love where you live?   Yes. 

37. Do you have any tattoos?  Nope. 

38. Are you a hard person to buy a gift for? Beats me. What’s your budget?

Garden Variety Dreams: Raw Materials

This is a cheaply-made extra parking lot made of reddish fill, put in by the previous owner a few months before he decided to sell. It’s 35 feet (10.5 m) long, wide enough for two cars, obliterating the original owner’s wonderful flowerbed, and ebbing into the boundary hedge. Over the Fall, I moved 57 wheelbarrowsful of the stuff, filling in holes, covering spruce roots, and making paths with it. About that much again can be removed. I’ll continue the pathmaking in the Spring, and I think we’ll then lay square beams around the remaining fill — enough space to park two cars instead of four — and maybe top it with a smaller-gauge gravel so it doesn’t look so crappy.

A crappy backyard is different, though; it’s permitted to be a work in progress. In the background above, homeless flagstones weight the plastic sheets covering soil left over from the next-door neighbours’ water main replacement (the City backfilled the hole with official Municipal dirt). In the foreground you see my salvage yard of more flagstones, various bricks, rocks, and pieces of masonry brought to this central spot from all over the property. The bricks numbered 48 at their highest.

“This is what you can do with ordinary objects lying around your home.” (Note to Goodbear: does that piece of greenery back there look familiar?)

Back at the back is the brush pile. These are the earthly remains of an L-shaped line of lilacs that swarmed from the oak to the poplar (the two thickest trees in the third photo) and  from the poplar up the fenceline towards the front of the property. The borderline lilacs had to come out anyway in order to install the fence; the other lilacs bisected the property and cramped it. I’ve been cutting up the stems to put them out for the public compostables disposal, although I’m now realizing their value as bean poles and cuke trellises.

Meanwhile, they’ve come in handy for safeguarding dogs…

…and feeding songbirds (who haven’t minded the laundry hose tie-backs in the least).

And finally, beyond the brush pile, the raw material all gardeners know and love. When it thaws, I’ll be moving this cubic-yard compost pile to higher, or at least more level, ground; in its current position, it’s pressing too hard against the fence!

Garden Variety Daydreams: Shady Nooks

Here’s the front flowerbed. It gets the morning sun. In the Fall, we cleaned it out and inserted a few chrysanthemum bushes for quick colour, and planted a whole whack of Spring bulbs. There are already two clumps of lavender. That thing that looks like giant bug antennae is maybe some sort of spirea. I’d like to grow some chives here, some Rainbow Chard, and some variety of Physalis — Ground Cherries, Tomatilloes, Cape Gooseberries, those plants with single berries inside attractive papery husks. Not native, but pretty and tasty. (Did you see something over by the forsythia bush? No?)

And here is the norther side of the house, with the street on the left. We’ll need something here besides that poor lonely rhododendron. My fantasy is a gathering of Hairy Solomon’s Seal (Polygonatum pubescens), native to New Brunswick, attractive to small creatures, and happy in the shade.

And here is the back. The corner with the hose reel and dining room window is the shadiest place on the property; not sure about it. The uninspiring wall, which gets warm afternoon sun, belongs to an addition, the all-important Mudroom (laundry, coats and boots, recyclables, knitting & crochet projects, and Cardigan feeding station). We’re toying with the idea of extending the back stoop around the length of this wall, and “roofing” it with a trellis: Wild Grape? Hardy Kiwi?

Finally, there are areas of “spot shade” at the bases of trees, like this oak.  A place in Nova Scotia sells seeds for at least three shade-loving native plants: Wild Ginger (Asarum canadense), Wintergreen (Gaultheria procumbens) (Could’ve sworn I saw something move?)…

…and  Wild Garlic (Allium tricoccum). This last woodland edible takes six years until harvest, a lesson in wildlands preservation as much as anything; we’ll see. Hopefully, we’ll be living here for years to come. (Are you sure you didn’t see something run by just now?)

Garden Variety Daydreams: The Sunny Side

The most recent dump of snow, which we enjoyed immensely on Sunday afternoon, preceded a dump of rain which washed the land clean again. Time to dream about gardening!

I’d like to take you on a tour of our property. We’ll spend a few days just walking around and pondering plantings.

Excepting veggie patch denizens, my four criteria for the Perfect Plant are:

1. native to the area;
2. interesting to flying creatures;
3. good-looking; and
4. comestible.

These criteria are negotiable. “Non-toxic to pets” is a given, and so not necessary to mention.

So! Let’s see what my perseverent research and hopeless romanticism have come up with so far, beginning today with The Sunny Side.

We’ll follow the sun as it wanders down our driveway from the road.  Above, in the far right foreground, a Forsythia bush peers from the snow. It had been formerly jammed against the house; it should be happier here where it can relax and spread out.

When we moved in, there were Sweet Peas climbing this side of the front porch. This Spring, I’d like to let Scarlet Runner Beans and edible climbing peas clamber over the railings.

Below that front vent were some pansies — hardy little troopers, blooming right up until December’s first snowfall! No plans for that patch yet.

Nothing was in that wooden planter under the kitchen bump-out; I’m not sure how there could be. Maybe it can be moved?

From the bump-out to the downspout were Black-eyed Susans (Rudbeckia) of some sort, and some Mallows (Malva). I saved some seeds from each, forked everything up, and ringed the area with masonry bits that were lying about. This space is 32 inches by 8 1/2 feet (80 cm by 260 cm). I’d like to plant Sunchokes (Helianthus tuberosus) in this bed. These tall sunflowers form edible tubers that taste something like water chestnuts. They also fulfill all four of my criteria.

The space beside the back stoop is the same depth but nearly a yard (metre) longer. So far it’s hard-packed gravel, but a few bricks to hold in a bit of topsoil should create a lovely little herb bed.

Note the two trees in the background, to whit the neighbour’s White Pine and a big, fence-straddling Poplar, as reference points for the next photo.

The White Pine’s boughs extend about five feet (150 cm) or so over the fence, so I think they’ll cast shade around lunchtime in the summer. At the foot of the Pine we planted three Blueberry bushes (Vaccinium corymbosum, “Chippewa”) last Fall. Although this is a hybrid variety, Blueberries are native to this area, the red stems look nice, and any fruit they might produce will be coveted by both birds and people (no idea yet about the dogsters) .

There’s room for more plantings along the fence. I’m thinking Lavender Hyssop (Agastache foeniculum, meeting all four criteria); Wild Bergamot (Monarda fistulosa, meeting three criteria, and native to neighbouring Quebec and Maine); and Butterfly Weed (Asclepias tuberosa, native, a fabulous orange colour, and tasty to Monarchs if not to people).

In the previous photo, you may have noticed what resembles a fuzzy grey lollipop. This close-up shows a red-stemmed Dogwood and a Holly, both bought at the local nursery and planted here to shore up the self-confidence of that poor native Northern White-cedar (Thuja occidentalis) which had been engulfed in overgrown lilacs before we moved here.

And here is the westernmost edge of the property, down past the garage. Along the fence, to the left of the Poplar, was a host of  invasive Japanese Knotweed (Polygonum cuspidatum). In the Autumn I hacked them down. For the next two or three years, I’ll be digging out their roots, smothering their growth with tarps, and stabbing their stems with wooden skewers before pouring glyphosate down their little zombie gullets.

Then maybe we’ll plant an Elderberry bush (Sambucus canadensis).

The branches in the foreground are protecting a patch of dirt which will become our veggie garden. The ground here is fairly heavy clay, so no carrots or potatoes this year, I think. Arugula, anyone?

(Wordless Wednesday) Sunday in the Park

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Part I.  Pull!

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Part II. Plunge.

(Wordless Wednesday) Soft Focus

Nearly Wordless Almost Wednesday: Turtle Wall

This is the other side of the guest room, between the landing door and the closet door. Featured here are two watercolours (not mine) of leatherback turtle hatchlings, and the pretty sea turtle my neighbours in Toronto found and hung on my apartment doorknob as a surprise.

I’ll need to install a teeny corner shelf if I want to include Manuel  and the sweetgrass turtlette here. Seamus will probably continue to hang out on the dresser.

Note the closet door, how it’s been cut to fit the slanted ceiling! Is this a sweet little house or what?

High, Low, Medium-Slow

The scene of the crime.

“High, low, medium-slow, jolly-olly peppers”. That was a skipping song when I was a child a century ago. Whichever word you tripped on, you had to skip a prescribed number of steps with the rope swung viciously high, crampedly low, ordinarily, or breathlessly fast.

Today, “high” and “low” are most often prefixed to the particle “-tech”. Despite being a blogger, I generally prefer low-tech things, while E.g. enjoys high-tech gadgetry.

For example:

• I buy water colour paints; E.g. buys camera equipment.
• I buy a scratch pad; E.g. buys an i-pod Touch.
• I buy a pair of hiking boots; E.g. buys a programmable eliptical machine.

I’m not saying these are bad things, and in fact E.g. uses all of her toys more frequently than I use any of mine. I’m just not enthralled by such items. (Plus I make less money.) Having little interest in them, I find myself as adept at techy advances as I once was at skipping.

My job was to keep the boys out of the rope.

I have succumbed to one advance: a cell phone. It’s indispensable in my current job, which has me on call 38% of the time, unless I never want to leave the house. So, since the Cardis haven’t learned to use the toilet, a cell phone I have.

Imagine my dismay, then, when I couldn’t find my cell phone’s recharger. Of all the different plugs and wires in the house, only one plug and wire could save my dying phone, but it was nowhere to be found.

“It was on the desk in the guest room, I’m sure that’s the last place I used it!” I wailed to E.g.

“Is there any place else it might be?”

“I looked on the shelf in the living room; I checked the drawer in the kitchen table; I dug through my bookbag; it isn’t anywhere!”

“Lemme check the glove compartment.” E.g. excels at finding new options.

Alas, the recharger wasn’t there either. Tomorrow I would be doomed to live the interior life.

The next morning, E.g. rose as early as a New Year’s resolution to use the eliptical trainer. She awoke me with a shout: “Oh, for heaven’s sake!”

I slung myself out of bed to see what was up. E.g. was pointing to our piece of gym equipment. Purchased a week ago, it works fine, except for a bit of plastic housing — follow the left outer arm down, and hang a sharp right — that squeaks.

In a brilliant blend of high and low tech, E.g. had solved the problem of the squeak: she had wrapped a rag around the housing, and secured the rag with the nearest thing to hand.

You guessed it.

Removing my phone charger from the eliptical apparatus, I juiced up my cell phone. For her part, E.g. decided that the squeak wasn’t so annoying after all.