My Back Yard

The avocado plant that grew uninvited in my compost pile looks more robust than the two indoors that I grew deliberately. What an insult?

Today I struggled with a writing assignment. Then I went outside to blow off steam by shoveling compost onto on my garden.

I dug close to the bottom to one of the compost bins, so I decided to start filling it again. Topped it with a layer of dry leaves left over from last fall. Then shoveled in some fresh waste from the adjacent bin, which hosted the avocado intruder.

 Now that I’m below the surface of the second bin, there’s some compost worth using. So I decided to pot the avocado before I inadvertently behead it with my shovel. The dratted plant will probably shrivel up now that I’ve put it on display in a pot.

"The Cats of Mirikitani" is a poignant movie about how the filmmaker’s taking this homeless Japanese-American artist into her home transformed his life.

The movie may come to a theater or, more likely, a film festival near you. 

You know you’re a squirrelholic when…

• You feel happy when your spouse gives you a pillow saying "Welcome to the Nut House" next to a squirrel picture
• You come home from three weeks away, drop your bags at the front door and then rush through to the backyard to dispense a handful of peanuts
• Before leaving on that three-week vacation, you left about ten pounds of sunflower seeds under cover in your back yard and left three buckets of seeds for your neighbor to dispense once the original seed ran out
• You talk to the backyard squirrels more than to your husband
• You always have peanuts in your pocket in case you encounter a hungry squirrel
• Shortly after you pull up in front of your garage, a squirrel shows up to beg at your back door
• Your backyard squirrels run toward you instead of away from you
• You make a mad dash to the seed store on Christmas Eve, so your squirrels don’t go hungry over the holiday
• Your backyard includes three squirrel feeding stations

Like biting down on a credit card.

That was the taste of his love for me.

He measured his love by

how much he spent on me.

One sapphire pendant,

another day’s duty discharged.

I started to think the same way.

It grew into cancer that killed me.

The accent sounded familiar. When the sleek brunette ended her sentence with "hey," I had to ask "Where are you from?"

She’s from Johannesburg, South Africa, which I visited recently. But she has lived here fifteen years since following her sister, so the U.S. feels like home to her. This nice woman whom I’d never talked to before said, "If I’d known you were going, I would have had you meet my father." 

This happened at spinning class, which I revisited after a break of almost two months. I managed to get through the entire 45-minute class. The insider’s trick is to keep the bike’s resistance low. Also, I don’t always spin as rapidly as the teacher. Frankly, I don’t think my legs are capable of it.

Spinning teachers tend to be very upbeat. That helps, too. 

The rabbit reappeared in the same spot between my garden gate and my old bird bath. It nibbled at the lawn — or rather, at the weeds. Then disappeared into the hedge.

I don’t remember seeing a bunny in my neighborhood before this year. 

The Hilton Sandton, where I stayed with Iggy earlier this summer, is concerned about improving its maid service. So when the supervisor checked on our room I asked, "Is it normal for a room with two people to find only one chocolate on the pillow after turndown service?" She agreed that wasn’t correct.

Sometimes we got two chocolates after that. A couple of times, I got the second chocolate only after explicitly asking for it because I was in the room when the maid came for turndown service.

One evening, the maid told me that she couldn’t give me a second chocolate. It was against the rules. I was all for calling her supervisor. But Iggy didn’t want a fight. He told me to take the chocolate.

What’s with the scarcity of chocolates? South Africa is a poor country. I wonder if the staff steals the extra candies.

Anyway, the funny thing is that Allan got two chocolates on his pillows last night, even though he’s there by himself. Maybe the staff on the first floor is more conscientious than the third floor staff where we stayed the last time.

When Iggy’s away, I’m apt to laze around the house all weekend. But I was determined not to do that today. So late this morning, I walked about a mile and back to CVS to buy some necessities. Then, after lunch, I started yard work.

I rearranged some plants.

My three parsleys were too close together. The middle one got monster big, while the two on the sides shrank under its shade.

When the guys built our new retaining wall, they didn’t tell me that they would destroy all the plants within six inches of the wall, so I lost most of my vinca except for the few plants that had sneaked under the cover of my holly bush and one low-lying yew.

Some of my hostas crowded my two peony bushes and the rhododendrons, so they had to move.

Finally, I transplanted some silver lamium, a ground cover, into two window boxes. My garden designer told me that they should survive to bloom again next spring.

I also did some animal maintenance. Emptied, cleaned, and refilled their water containers. Restocked the squirrel palace with sunflower seeds. I also took some steps to reduce the birds’ use of our patio as a porta-potty. I decommissioned the temporary feeder under our garden table. I relocated the auxiliary palace to a spot underneath our burning bush, an invasive shrub, just like sparrows are invasive. The birds will still get some food. Just not as much. And not as close to where I walk. I also hosed down the back steps.

The ominous rattle of plastic grating over a slab of concrete blocking the end of a parking spot alerted me that my car’s undercarriage misbehaved again.

A little friction pulled out a crucial screw. Then plastic dragged on road all the way home.

Drat! This is another trip to the auto mechanic. 

A couple of grackles mastered eating from the small bird feeder.

One sparrow took exception, zooming in on one grackle. He lost a mouthful of head feathers to the enormous grackle.