Gnawed Pumpkin

Hokey Smoke!

Sitting in my backyard, when a chipmunk bounces off the phone line and onto a tree trunk. Except the phone line is seven feet in the air, and they never go that high. I believe it was a flying squirrel.
Never saw one of them in the wild before.

Monarch of the Glen

Two years ago, I planted some milkweed by the rear porch. Last year, I had two little plants, but they made about a dozen pods, who ruptured and went everywhere. Last year I planted two sick-looking Monarda sp. plants, who kind of just…hung out. It was supposed to be a butterfly garden, but I got no butterflies. A couple of bumblebees, but no butterflies.

Well, this year I have a dozen milkweeds, and the monarda are spreading via runners (and they’re a mint, so they will) and finally this morning, I saw a monarch on the milkweed.

Signs of Spring

My rhubarb came back, and it flowered. Which is better than the other plant, which curled up and died. I’d never seen a rhubarb flower, they look like this (image from Wiki):

And the marching band is out on the oval again. Signs of spring.

Hyssop and Milkweed and Monarda

Oh, my. I’ve been trying to get a butterfly garden established for years now. I’ve bought the flower mixes and broadcast them. Nada. Then the basement needed to be waterproofed, and after a crew of Bosnians with a backhoe got through with it–all was gone.

But last year, in the back, I planted a hyssop plant and a someone gave me a couple of monardas. I got milkweed pods from South Chagrin and planted some seeds. The bee balm is back in a clump, so is the hyssop, and there are about half a dozen milkweeds now, behind the garden bench.

This is a good thing. The bumbles like them, other bees like them, and hopefully the butterflies will find them. I like pollenators.

Nature, Red in Tooth and Claw

So, there I was, calmly driving back through the Metroparks, at three-quarters three in the afternoon, when this large, scruffy, dog, runs across the road.  Biggish dog, kinda shaggy and mangy, browny-grey.  With long legs.  Really long legs, and a bushy tail.  No collar.  Really,LONG legs; black tip on the tail. I’m beginning to think it was Canis latrans.

Okay.  I know they’re in the Cuyahoga valley, this was up around Tinker’s Creek–perhaps it followed the water.

So I get home, and, speaking of Tinker, Tinker has caught the other baby bunny.  Bunjamin P. Franklin likes to raise a family in my pachysandra, and he’s not that smart, because every year Tinker–sometimes Murphy, but Tinker is the clear leader, catches them.  And, because I’m a very poor hunter, takes them home for ME to kill. Last week I had this bunny’s sibling loose in my house for a couple of days, before I found Tinker snacking on his intestines.  Just now, he brings in the (larger) sibling.  My technique is getting better, as I get bunny out of the kitchen, hotly pursued by the cat, who, of course catches him again.  Tinker this this is hilarious.  I don’t know why the rabbits don’t wise up.  After the second catching, Bun-bun goes into the neighbor’s yard, Tinker decides to do his impression of a hood ornament, and I shut the back door.

Enough already.

Having a Garden

This evening, I had some sausages with stewed tomatoes over onions and potatoes. I was able to walk out my back door, get some parsley, chives, and basil straight out of their containers to put in the food.

I also saw there are volunteer rhubarb, strawberries, blackberries and grapes, coming up.

I really like this. You can’t get fresher than that.

The Cycle of Life

Tinker catches chipmunk, brings it into the house, Dr. Zeus removes chipmunk, takes the mattock and buries it in the garden under the hyssop. Then the butterflies land on the hyssop…and so it goes. And this one post incorporates most of the search terms that people find my blog with, and that’s all of them with the addition of Elliot Ness, wren, and horse armour.

When It Comes Together

For years, I had one forlorn little milkweed plant near the back steps. They get kind of tall and leggy, and fall over if you don’t stake them. It produced about one pod per year. This year, happily I have half a dozen. I think they’re the common milkweed. They are all on the edge of the stone patio.
So, I’ve put in two monarda (bee balm) to keep them company, and sprinkled some of Burpee’s hummingbird and butterfly mix behind them, between the stone patio and the house.
If I’m lucky, I’ll get butterflies and hummingbirds. What I’ll probably get are bumble and honeybees. That’s fine. I rather like honey, and I’ve always thought it would be neat to have a bee hive. The problem is, of course, that I find working with buzzing, stinging insects to be very aversive. I like the concept of owning beehives. The actualality of owning one, not so much.

Spring

It is the Equinox.  In Rome, the New Year started in Spring, at the equinox.  We’re not as tied to siderial time as they were, but it does make some sense.  The crocuses and daffs are poking their heads above the devil strip and the side yard.  I rebuilt the raised bed of stones around the small tree, and I need to add more good topsoil.

Giant Eagle has nice bulbs in pots for not all that much money, and has had them for quite some time.  I hope they’ll still have them when the ground isn’t frozen.

So, go pour a glass of lager on the nearest tree (you wouldn’t actually want to drink that stuff, right?) and welcome back the sun.