Double Trouble

In my most recent spate of stomping around my yard, muttering under my breath at the elk damage…my landscaping is accruing, I noticed, some of my plants only had tiny little nibbles taken out of them. Like, teeny, tiny nibbles---slug sized nibbles you might say.  

Upon see the offending nibbles, I promptly undertook several courses of action. None, of which, turned out to be a call to the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife’s “Wildlife Conflict Specialist” (360)749-7195---the number is included for your future reference. You’re welcome.

Where was I? Oh, yes, no call to complain, just immediate action on my part. I got a stabby stick and my “safe for pets and wildlife” slug bait and set out on my search and destroy mission. As I was vindictively—perhaps a wee bit gleefully?-- dealing with the problem at hand, I began to muse upon the difference between my approach to dealing with elk and slugs...

Why, I wondered, didn’t I pick up the phone and express my distress and displeasure to the State of Washington? Do slugs not fall under their jurisdiction? Slugs are “wild” and free roaming destructive little creatures yet I don’t complain about it---to the state, anyway—I just deal.

UGH Slug

With slugs I’m ALLOWED to go full out Rambo. If I need to, I can go out after dark, with a flashlight and a red headband (I’m kidding about the headband. Sort of) and hunt them down. I can exact my revenge—i.e. “harvest” them. And there seems to be no limit on the number of wee beasties I can bag, no tag required. Try that with elk sometime and see what that gets you. Probably some time in the pokey and a hefty fine, would be my guess.

All in all, it seems a bit unfair in my book; is there no Slug Lobby? Do elk have better P.R. people? What’s going on here? 

Perhaps the fumes coming off my slug bait, while “safe,” are not meant to be inhaled?

Reality Bites

There might be a hiccup in my newest love affair---let me explain. After falling madly in love with previously scorned Begonias and buying them with abandon I may have gotten in over my head. I fell in love with Begonias, thinking it would only be one of those casual, summertime things. I’d love them and care for them and enjoy their beauty and then the frost would come and it would be sad but I’d move on with the next seed catalog to hit my mailbox.

Uh, no.

Seems Begonias are slightly more tenacious than that. Falling in love with Begonias isn’t just a casual summer fling; come fall Begonias are going to start making demands on my time. Just like those manipulative Dahlias.

Dahlias and I have a history. They’ll seduce me with their beauty, I’ll make certain promises in May that, come October-November, may be hard to keep. I’ll mean well---I just won’t mean it when I promise to get up off the sofa and go digging about the garden in the cold, fall rain, trying to figure out where I planted those dang Dahlia tubers and missing the Seahawks game.

 April will roll around and I will be happily turning over

Dead dahlia blooming...

garden soil, planning all my plant purchases when—stab!—I’ll stick my trowel in to a sloppy mess that USED to be a dahlia. Oh, the guilt! Oh, the shame! Oh the new promises I will swear about either 1) NEVER BUYING Dahlias AGAIN, or 2) only planting them in pots so I can either A: bring the pots inside or B: put them in the garage or C: pawn them off on a friend who has both a greenhouse AND enough self-discipline to actually follow through on the promise to dig dahlias up every fall.

Turns out Begonias can be “saved” over, it you just love them enough to get up off the sofa and go do it. I’m starting to feel like my Begonia relationship is a bit more restrictive and controlling than just a “summertime thing” ... Impatiens never asked for anything more than to just make me happy for a season. Perhaps---GASP! Begonia Love is Real Love...

Flower love is a fickle thing.

Begorrah

Turns out I love begonias. 

I know----I’m as surprised as you are, but let me explain. For, lo, these many years---I won’t say exactly how many, but many---I have never planted begonias, not a single one. Don’t like ‘em, I would tell you, also “eww”. Don’t ask me why, but for some reason begonias seemed like an Old Person’s Flower, something only cultivated by cranky old men in white undershirts who, when not fussing over their precious begonias, would spend the rest of their days yelling at those darn kids to stay off the grass. Or perhaps planted by soft, fluffy, grandmotherly types who could have modeled for yard art—that kind of yard art that is all backside, bent over---you know the one I mean. So yeah, Begonias are TOTALLY not me.

Except, they kind of ARE, minus the grandmotherly aspect. Begonias like shade ---I like shade. Previous summers I’ve planted Impatients in all my garden’s shady spots and been very satisfied with the results. This summer however, has been different story.

First, I was in Thailand in peak plant buying season and missed buying my usual flat of flowers. Then, when I did manage to scrounge up a few random Impatients they didn’t flourish as well as usual. After that set back some friendly, free-ranging chickens seemed to take a liking to them and thus I am now Impatient free.

As luck would have it, I was visiting a nursery with a friend who happens to be a big fan of Begonias and before you know it I had four of my own...

Followed by another six a few weeks later. Because, as it turns out, Begonias are Beautiful! They come in a rainbow of colors and foliage choices and the flower heads are HUGE and add such a vivid pop of color to dark, shady corners---there are even some varieties that tolerate more sun, and---!

Begonias. Who knew?

Weather Whiplash

I was diagnosed the other day with a very serious condition---true, it was a self-diagnosis, but I believe valid all the same. The self-diagnosis waiting room is always lot less crowded and the magazines are better. And it’s a lot less scary than googling stuff on WebMD. Self-diagnosis has fewer yucky pictures. So, in short, self-diagnosis is like regular diagnosis, only with less. And the co-pays are surprisingly affordable.

Where was I? Oh, yes! My diagnosis.

I knew something was seriously wrong when I found myself debating every little decision. Did I want hot tea, or iced tea? Shoes or sandals? SPF or umbrella?  Long pants? Shorts? Did I have to make hay while the sun shone or could I save it for a rainy day? Clearly, I was suffering from Weather Whiplash.

According to Wikipedia—or at least it will as soon as I upload the definition—Weather Whiplash is what happens to you when the weather moves from one extreme to the other in a short period of time. The weather is careening from Cold and Damp, to Hot and Miserable, and back again, with very few stops at Mild and Lovely along the way. SPOILER ALERT: Mild and Lovely is my preferred weather destination. That’s where I like to summer. Please forward my mail.

Hydrangeas don't care for the heat

Symptoms of weather Whiplash include inability to dress one’s self appropriately, overgrown lawn, and---at least in my case—the tendency towards irritability and a fondness for recalling previous weather phenomenon, often at length. Persons suffering from acute Weather Whiplash have been observed wearing fuzzy sox indoors while the A/C is cranked to Arctic levels, just in case the sun comes back out by Golly the house is not going to be hot!

Why use one umbrella when MORE is better?

There is no known cure for Weather Whiplash. All we can do is treat the symptoms and wait for July. In the meantime, enjoy this picture of my hydrangeas, hiding from the heat. They have Weather Whiplash too.