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musings and photos of some of my favorite things |
My poor Macallan. In his old age, with wobbly legs, he braves the wide outdoors.
For years we could not coax him to go outside. But now, that’s where he wants to be. He takes two or three steps, then rests, then shakily gets up to take a few more steps.
The simple pleasures for an old and sick cat.
This year’s garden (showing what I planted and where I planted what I planted).
What this does not show is what is actually in the garden. I used the seed I had, some of which was pretty old. By the time I did my planting, it was already pretty hot and pretty late. So not everything germinated. Some beets did germinate, but none of the cabbage. None of the peppers came up. A few edamame did come up and I have a full row of green beans, which our local resident rabbit is finding very tasty. Last year, the rabbit (maybe even this very rabbit) ate the leaves of every single bean plant that sprouted. I’m hoping that it diversifies its diet this year.
The radishes, which should have been planted during the coolness of spring, are, nonetheless, making a valiant attempt at growing. A few winter squash look like they are going to make it. There is a volunteer plant which I am not sure of, so I’m letting it be, and I will someday discover what it wants to become.
The tomatoes were planted from plants and are doing well, in spite of the heat, or maybe because of it.
As you can see, we are in the midst of a drought. The grass is brown and crunchy. The soil is dry and hard. But I have a natural tiller going through my lawn and garden, rooting through the dry earth and popping out every so often to check its handiwork.
The potatoes either are drying out from the heat or they are getting done (I’m a little afraid to check at this point.) The kale, which looked a bit pathetic after being neglected during all our trips in June, looks like it will recover nicely.
But it has been hot here. Very hot. And very dry. Temperatures this week were up past 100 in the shade. The cardoon does not really like the hot weather and the plant itself looks quite withered. But its flowers are gorgeous.
This was the year that I decided not to do much in the garden. Well, I couldn’t really resist.
First of all, by April, we still hadn’t eaten all the potatoes from last year, so those needed to go into the ground, two long rows worth of potatoes. Add to that the row of potatoes that are volunteering from last year and it looks like we will have a lot of potatoes this fall.
Then there are the perennials. Asparagus, sorrel, rhubarb, the herbs (oregano, chives, garlic, sage, lavender), strawberries, raspberries, cherries, and the pear tree looks like it will have a good crop this year. In the vegetable garden, kale and chard came back. The cardoon is spreading so now we have three impressive plants.
But I did need to plant tomatoes. The plants I grew from seed didn’t make it, but the eleven tomato plants I bought at the farmer’s market are going strong. I also decided to plant all my old seed. I have no expectations that these old seeds – some two or three years old – will germinate, but I tried. The peas did not come up, only 3 little corn plants emerged. With the dry weather, I don’t yet know if any of the radishes, beans, edamame, beets, cabbage, or squash will make it.
We got three hazelnut bushes from Arbor Day, but they were sent way too late, right at the start of this extremely dry spell, so I don’t know if they will make it either. The blueberry bushes are struggling. I planted mesclun mix in a large pot right outside our back porch and added basil and mint to the herb garden.
No garden? I don’t think that’s possible.
Gretel: Why are you looking at that cold metal thing when you have such an adorably cute furry warm cat on your lap?
I had never heard of bucket lists before a couple of years ago. I guess a movie came out with that name (I haven’t seen it). At the time, I was asked if I had a bucket list. I thought about it for a little while, but then said “no”. That surprised some people because I am very quick to say “I want to see that”, I’d like to do this”, I want to go there”. And some of these dreams and aspirations come up over and over. I’d like to go on one of those long walks in England. I’d like to take a ferry boat to Alaska and sleep on the deck. I’d like to go ice skating on the canal in Ottawa. But would I be devastated, or even disappointed, if I don’t do these things or see those places? I can honestly say no. There are so many things that would be really exciting to do, so many places that would be fascinating to visit, so many sights that would be awesome to see. If I don’t do a long walk in England, maybe I’ll hike hut to hut in the White Mountains. If I don’t take a ferry to Alaska, maybe I’ll take a boat across the Atlantic. If I don’t go ice skating on the canal in Ottawa, maybe I’ll go snowshoeing in the winter in Glacier National Park. There are lots of things to see and do and I will never not have some idea for a fun activity or trip. There will always be some other goal, some other dream, some other aspiration.
That brings me a decision I am making now. I am abandoning of my previous goals. Maybe “abandoning” is not the right word. I am at a different place; I have different interests; I don’t need to hold on to something that I once wanted to do but that does not seem important any more.
I once was a much more avid bicyclist. Quite a number of years ago I spent a week with friends who were cycling across the country. On that trip, I met others who were also cycling across the country. And bicycling across the country became a goal of mine. Pete was very willing to help me achieve that goal. He had it all planned. We would do this in stages. We would begin the next stage of the cross country bicycle ride in Libby, Montana, where I had left my friends those many years ago. We would drive to Libby, camp there, and begin the ride. I would set off in the morning and Pete would ride with me part way. Then he’d go back, pack up and get the car, and rendezvous with me at our next campsite. And the next day, the process would begin again. We would take a week or two, and then pick up where we left off the next year. But this never happened. I don’t exactly know why. He would bring it up now and again, encouraging me. But there were always reasons not to do it. Montana is so very far. It would take a long time just to drive out there. And so this dream, this aspiration, languished.
And the more time passed, the less interested I became. But I didn’t want to abandon the goal. That seemed like a personal failure. But is it? I now no longer think it is. I still like to bicycle. Bicycling across the country certainly would have been an adventure. But doing it in stages was really never that compelling to me. On the other hand, doing it in one go would have meant devoting something like 3 months of my time and giving up that amount of time was not something I really wanted to do.
And, with letting go of a goal that no longer holds me, I can also let go of the bicycle that I purchased to accomplish that goal. I sold my recumbent. And it feels right. And it feels good. And I have no regrets.
People were actually running up and down these stairs that lead down to the waterfront from the Plains of Abraham. No wonder we’re not seeing overweight Québécois.
