I’ve always loved cats. I like their grace and intelligence, their independence and there warm and affectionate ways. I love all animals, but I grew up with cats and they’ve remained a constant in my life. When you have a soft, mushy heart, one cat often turns into two…or three or a number you’re embarrassed to say out loud. No one wants to be labeled the “crazy cat lady.”
So perhaps it’s not a surprise that this beautiful bit of green moss growing in the garden looks just like a cat.
Look closely at the garden wall
Mossy cat bending over for a drink
I adore the bright green spongy texture of moss. It reminds me of romantic period movies, pixies and garden fairies. I’ve never seen a mossy cat though, so I’m feeling quite special. The green goddess of gardens has graced my garden wall.
Bloggers, Twitter users and Instagram aficionados publish a single, captioned photo mid-week. Wordless…as in no words. Hmm.
Either I lack the confidence to post a photo that I think should stand alone, or I simply have too much to say. I would like to propose a new hashtag called #Wordy-Wednesday. Of course “wordy” sounds like something my 7th grade English teacher might abhor.
“The rain, in Spain, stays mainly in the plane” would never fly when
With that, I think I’ve come full circle. If you’ve read this far, you’ll know that I’m just over the 150 word count, and you’re probably thinking “Alys…get to the point!”
The point is, I like to write, and I like to read what you write and I like to read the comments that you write when I write. Here is my #Wordy-Wednesday.
The atmospheric river is back, delivering more heavy rain in back-to-back storms. I headed over the hill (for the appointment I cancelled last month due to the storms) only to be thwarted yet again. The rain cleared for a few hours mid-day and traffic reports said I could get there in about an hour. Crews were clearing a mudslide, with one open lane. Then as I approached the area of the highway without any easy exits, traffic slowed to a crawl and then stopped.
Stopped in traffic on Highway 17
A second major mudslide lay ahead and there was nowhere to go. Close to an hour later, crews created a turnaround and both lanes of traffic slowly made u-turns going back in the direction we came. Nearly two and a half hours later I found myself back home thinking that perhaps I’ll cancel all of my over the hill appointments until late March. What a slog.
The amazing news is that no one got hurt. The massive slide dumped mud, rocks and trees along two lanes of the highway, lifting a man in his truck up and then over the side rails, dropping the truck upside down. The man walked away from the accident unharmed!
Dozens of people worked over night to try to clear and shore up the area. They expect more slides today. Here is some amazing footage of a mudslide in action, taken from the dashboard camera of a police cruiser.
If you click on the Facebook link, then scroll down to February 7th, you can see the video.
Again, no injuries.
Throughout the Bay Area, massive trees are down, homes flooded and at least one home split in two and slid part way down the hill. I’m grateful for the people who keep showing up for work with chainsaws, heavy equipment, and a can-do attitude.
California Gray Squirrel perfecting his two-point stance
I’ve tried to like American football. With numerous invitations to Super Bowl parties over the years, my interest stemmed from a desire to fit in. To be “one with the ball” so to speak. By the time I reached my mid-twenties, however, I threw in the towel. When they were handing out the sports-loving genes, I was waiting in line for a green thumb. It’s a national pastime in the States, culminating in this weekend’s Super Bowl Sunday. I don’t begrudge the fans, as long as they’re well-behaved, but other than fast-forwarding through the clever commercials, Super Bowl Sunday is just another day for me. Weather permitting, I would rather spend the time in the garden.
I consulted the For Dummies series to educate myself on the following football terms, then translated them into phrases that a gardener will understand.
Without further ado, here is your guide to the Super Bowl of Gardening
Down: A period of action that starts when the ball is put into play and ends when the ball is ruled dead (meaning that the play is completed).
Down: A period of time known as winter. Gardening down time.
End zone: A 10-yard-long area at both ends of the field — the promised land for a football player.
End zone: The only zone in which you can’t grow a thing. I garden in zone 9b.
Extra point: A kick, worth one point, that’s typically attempted after every touchdown.
Extra point: When you plant one thing, and two things come up instead.
Field goal: A kick, worth three points, that can be attempted from anywhere on the field but usually is attempted within 40 yards of the goalpost.
Field goal: My goal is to grow a garden as big as a football field.
Fumble: The act of losing possession of the ball while running with it or being tackled.
Fumble: The act of losing possession of the bulb you just dug up when the resident gardener runs after you saying “No! Not the tulip bulbs!!!” This usually pertains to squirrels.
Hash marks: The lines on the center of the field that signify 1 yard on the field.
Hash marks: The indentations left on your knees after pulling weeds all day.
Interception: A pass that’s caught by a defensive player, ending the offense’s possession of the ball.
Interception: The sunflowers saved by a defensive gardener who figures out clever ways to outsmart the squirrels.
Kickoff: A free kick that puts the ball into play.
Kickoff: Also referred to as ‘Spring.’
Punt: A kick made when a player drops the ball and kicks it while it falls toward his foot.
Punt: A kick made when a gardener drops a packet of seeds and tries desperately to keep them from hitting the ground.
Return: The act of receiving a kick or punt and running toward the opponent’s goal line with the intent of scoring or gaining significant yardage.
Return: The act of returning to the garden center again and again because you simply can’t help yourself.
Sack: When a defensive player tackles the quarterback behind the line of scrimmage for a loss of yardage.
Sack: A great place to store and dry last year’s seeds.
Snap: The action in which the ball is hiked (tossed between the legs) by the center to the quarterback, to the holder on a kick attempt, or to the punter.
Snap: The sound a gardener’s neck makes, when she realizes that what she just brushed off her shoulder has six furry legs. A snap may also warrant a trip to the chiropractor.
Touchdown: A score, worth six points, that occurs when a player in possession of the ball crosses the plane of the opponent’s goal line, or when a player catches the ball while in the opponent’s end zone, or when a defensive player recovers a loose ball in the opponent’s end zone.
Touchdown: When you brush your hand across the surface of a lambs ear it’s like touching down.
and finally
Turnover: When, with either a fumble or an interception, one team loses possession of the football to the other.
Turnover: After a full day in the garden, I want to enjoy a hot cup of tea and an apple turnover. Yum!
Wishing you a terrific weekend, on or off the field.
As January draws to a close I’m struggling mightily to find some equilibrium.
It’s been a month of cold and frosty nights. It burns off early, but some of our plants collapsed from the cold.
Frozen Nasturtium
These nasturtiums bloomed last spring, died in the heat of summer, then self-seeded in late November. The frost did them in.
Frozen bird bath
Frosty paw prints courtesy of Mouse
It’s also been a month of rain. Cold days gave way to magnificent rain storms. It was too much all at once, but at the same time exactly what we needed. The sky opened up and dumped record-breaking rain on our parched state.
Washed out trail along Almaden Lake
The powers that be declared last week that the six-year California drought is all but over.
Pacific storms in early January have brought widespread, intense precipitation to California, providing relief to some drought-stricken regions but also flooding. According to the U.S. Drought Monitor, about 35% of the state is no longer experiencing drought, and the proportion of areas under extreme-to-exceptional drought fell from 38% on January 3rd to 28 percent by January 10. Cumulative precipitation hit a record high, doubling the historical average for this time of year. While a weak La Niña persists, sea surface temperature will transition back to normal by February 2017. Surface reservoirs, especially in Northern California, are beginning to refill, but groundwater aquifers in many parts of the state remain severely over drafted and will take far longer to recover. Source: Californiadrought.org
Yesterday the temperatures climbed into the high sixties (19 C). A week of unseasonably warm days offered a much-needed dry out for communities with overflowing riverbanks and mudslides. Potholes turned into sinkholes, and the CHP humorously named one Steve. You can read about Steve’s short “life” as a magnificent sinkhole here. I’ve been raking pine needles, removing dead branches and gently pruning damaged leaves.
And finally, it’s been a season of disquieting change.
The country said goodbye to President Obama and First Lady Michelle. Obama the candidate campaigned on hope. Once elected, he brought intelligence and grace to the White House. Obama governed in measured and thoughtful ways, and his presidency was one of inclusiveness. When the US elected its first black president, it gave the rest of the world hope. The United States was not a racist nation after all!
I still don’t know how we got here? January draws to a close in a season of hatred. Inexplicably, this country reversed course. We’re on a maddening and frightening path to the 1930s.
San Jose Women’s March * January 21, 2017
I’m trying to find a balance between action and despair. It’s only about a week since the women’s march and I’m already feeling deflated. Pauline said it bluntly: we’ve elected a mad man.
I attended the Women’s March in San Jose with several friends, my husband and members of our amazing community.
Like all the sister marches around the world, San Jose broke a record. Organizers expected about 10,000 marchers to converge on San Jose’s City Hall. Our numbers swelled to 25,000. This translated into long lines for public transportation, and a march that took nearly two hours to complete. We joked that it was more of a meander or a crawl than a march. We had the time of our lives.
Together we walked in unity along the route from San Jose City Hall to Cesar Chavez Park in downtown San Jose.
It was exhilarating! Women chanted, sang, smiled and laughed. Sometimes we wept. It was an experience I will never forget. 25,000 people coming together in peaceful solidarity.
Here is a quick snapshot of the day:
It’s hard to describe the outpouring of energy, the camaraderie and the joy. As I walked with my fellow marchers, I felt cocooned in a collective embrace.
My phone battery died early so I didn’t get as many photos as I would have liked. I wish I had photos of all the people waving from buildings along the route, the signs, the children, the sea of pink hats. My friend Rosie observed that “the force was with you today with crowds, weather, significance and attitudes.”
We did it! On January 21, over 5 Million of us worldwide and over 1 Million in Washington, D.C., came to march, speak and make our voices heard. But it doesn’t end here – now is not the time to hang up our marching shoes – it’s time to get our friends, family and community together and make history.
Every 10 days we will take action on an issue we all care about, starting today.
Laurie at Life on the Bike and Other Fab Things attended the Women’s March in DC. You can read about her initial impressions here. Check out the photo of the woman elevating her walker along the parade route.
Karen at The Unassuming Hiker doesn’t like crowds. She brushed aside health concerns and marched anyway, with her daughter and other friends. She took a bus from Virginia to be at the DC march. She shares her own unique perspective here.
The Pussyhat Project: A bit about the movement, free patterns to knit or sew.
The expression “results may vary” always make me laugh. Since the early days of advertising, we’ve been sold a bill of goods.
One size fits all (ahem)
Guaranteed results (or your money back)
New and improved
and so on.
Do you ever find yourself applying these terms to everyday life?
Mine would go something like this: I’m going to head out into the world today, knowing full well that results may vary. I’m going to shrug into my one size fits all sweater, which is actually a size large…just in case. Life does not come with guarantees, but if it did, I might be able to get compensation for that big bruise on my shin. (My life’s mantra: slow down, Alys, slow down!) And finally, far from being new and improved I would like to offer up a more accurate slogan: Old and improving. I like the idea of being a better person with the rise of each day, but there is nothing new about the four step maneuver it takes to get out of bed.
These same advertising slogans have been rattling around in my head when I’m in the garden. One example: I planted an old packet of broccoli seeds figuring nothing ventured, nothing gained. A small cluster of seedlings sprouted giving me hope. I thinned them to a respectable number and waited for the plants to take off. They’re not dead, but they’re not growing either. The seedlings remain in a suspended animation weeks after planting. Results may vary.
Broccoli Seedlings: Grow baby, grow!
Last summer I planted our fountain with succulents. It’s a long story for another day, but suffice it to say that is one expensive planter. I’m not well versed on the variety of succulents available, and the nurseries provide scant clues. The pot might say “two-inch succulent” or “four-inch succulent” which tells me nothing about growth habits. As you can see from the photo below, it’s not a one size fits all proposition. The plan was to have the center plant gradually grow up, while its companions to the left and right gracefully trailed over the edges.
Copper planter with succulents, September, 2016
Copper fountain planted with succulents, November, 2016
Nature is as nature does.
As for “guaranteed results or your money back”, I’m pretty sure there is a disclaimer for acts of god or nature. There are no guarantees when it comes to gardening. You can plant a seed, water it, and hope that it grows. Have you seen those seed packets? Those plants are amazing! I’ll buy a hundred, and grow produce for the entire neighborhood. I’ll have vases of gorgeous, fresh flowers scattered throughout the house. It’s guaranteed!
Tulip Bulbs: So much promise, so little return
Darwin knew what he was talking about. It’s all about survival of the fittest. I plant seeds, and they refuse to grow. I plant bulbs, and the squirrels dig them up and either eat them or toss them on the deck. Seedlings pop through the soil but then snails eat them in the dead of night. Plants that overcome these obstacles, must contend with birds, squirrels, rats, drought, stink bugs, fungus, scale and sometimes this careless gardener who forgets to water a dried out pot. Guaranteed!
Finally, new and improved might mean pesticide-laden seeds. I like to garden old school: heirloom plants and seeds in a pesticide-free garden. As I mentioned earlier, old and improving.
Beautiful Illustrations of hope and promise…guaranteed!
And that, my friends, brings me back full circle. Results may vary. Sometimes that’s a wonderful thing. My entire front garden self-seeded once again, with Nigella, California Poppies, Cornflowers and Sweet Peas. They seem impervious to the recent frost. They’re lush and green, planted by nature, watered by recent storms and back by popular demand. Now that’s a slogan to celebrate.
Frosty front garden
Self-seeded trellised sweet peas
Garden closeup
Impervious to the frost
Advertising: the science of arresting the human intelligence long enough to get money from it. Stephen Leacock
If you were running an ad campaign for your daily life, what would you say?
What a week! To say it rained is an understatement. Back to back storms battered California for several days, wreaking havoc up and down the state. Dangerous mudslides, overflowing waterways, downed trees and snarled traffic have been the norm.
California Grey Squirrel using his tail as an umbrella
Much like the proverbial flood gate, we’ve endured five years of drought and then the rain all flowed at once.
atmospheric rivers come in many shapes and sizes, those that contain the largest amounts of water vapor and the strongest winds can create extreme rainfall and floods, often by stalling over watersheds vulnerable to flooding. These events can disrupt travel, induce mudslides and cause catastrophic damage to life and property. A well-known example is the “Pineapple Express,” a strong atmospheric river that is capable of bringing moisture from the tropics near Hawaii over to the U.S. West Coast.
Flooded sign at the head of Los Gatos Creek Trail
Here in San Jose we’ve been incredibly lucky. Other than losing power for several hours after the first storm, we’ve been otherwise okay. Our street didn’t flood, and we didn’t lose any trees (thank goodness).
From the PG& E website
The only nail-biting experience was my attempt to get to an appointment mid-week “over the hill” in nearby Felton. There are only two ways to get there from here, by highway 17 or highway 9. Both routes travel through winding hills. I checked the traffic reports before heading out (CHP closed Highway 9 but 17 remained open), but it was not to be. Just a few miles in to my trip, the rain started to fall in sheets. There were mudslides the day before, and heavy puddles were already forming. I found a safe place to exit the freeway, canceled my appointment by phone, then headed home. What timing. The traffic had already stalled, backing up for miles in the southbound direction. Another mudslide snarled traffic. My friend who lives in Santa Cruz left work around 6 Tuesday evening, and didn’t arrive home until 2 am. She sat on the freeway for hours, finally got off the road in nearby Los Gatos, until road crews were able to clear one lane. Several of us offered her a place to stay, but I think she was anxious to get home to her dog.
Unfortunately, many others in the state have not been so lucky. When trees endure years of drought, their roots shrink as a form of self-preservation. When heavy rains come along, the ground is quickly saturated and the water has nowhere to go. Massive trees toppled all over the area, destroying cars, a few homes and stalling our Bay Area Rapid Transit. Several rivers and streams reached and then exceeded flood stage, spilling water into nearby communities.
I took this video of Lexington Reservoir after turning back for home on Tuesday. An hour and a half later, it overflowed its banks into the Los Gatos creek flooding the trails and closing the park.
In between storms, I walked with a friend near Almaden Lake. I’ve never seen it so full, and again, parts overflowed washing out trails.
Almaden Lake after a storm
Rising waters
High water levels
Washed out fence and walkway
Flooded walkway
A turtle that lost his way (I moved it off the path into the grassy knoll)
Gathering debris
Flooded walkway
There are many positives in all of this. For the first time in years, most of the state’s reservoirs are full. Snow pack in the Sierra, which provides a third of our fresh water doubled in a week. On January 3rd, it was only 70% of normal for this time of year. After this series of storms it’s 158% of normal!
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
Beautiful poetry aside, rainy days lift my spirits. I’m not feeling dark or dreary, just hopeful that this could be the beginning of the end of this California drought.
Grief is a strange companion. You go about your days, carrying on with life’s mundane tasks, yet the undercurrent of loss is ever-present.
In late December, Katherine who blogged at Pillows A-La-Mode lost her battle with an aggressive form of breast cancer. Everyone liked Katherine. She blogged about sewing, refashion and paper crafts but it was her warmth and spirit that kept you coming back. I started following her in my early blogging days and always looked forward to the conversation. In 2012, her daughter-in-law, Shannon, secretly contacted many of us and asked us to take part in a “card shower”. Fellow bloggers sent cards from around the world, unbeknownst to Katherine, and we all held our collective breath till she learned of the surprise. She posted a photo of all of the cards displayed on her mantel with these words:
I can’t thank Shannon enough for this incredibly thoughtful gesture, and I can’t thank YOU enough for being my wonderful friends and encouragers. As this card that Shannon made for me says, “One kind word can warm three winter months.” New Year blessings to all of you, with love from Pillows A-La-Mode. ♥
You can read the full post here. Katherine let us know she was ill and that she would be taking a break from the blogging world while she sought treatment for her cancer. My heart skipped a beat when her post appeared in my feed. It was a shock realizing that her husband David authored the post to let us know of her passing. What a brave man.
I didn’t know Katherine in person, but those of you who blog know that it doesn’t matter one wit. She was here and then she wasn’t, and I feel saddened by her loss.
That same week I learned that Nicole Meredith’s rapid decline led her to take her own life. For twenty years Nicole struggled with a complex set of health issues related to her environment. At one point she was so ill that she had to sleep outdoors in a tent, unable to tolerate electricity. Frail and exhausted, she finally found treatment at a clinic in Texas. After months of therapy, she was finally feeling better. She was able to paint once again, though she never ventured far from poetry. Nicole’s work appears in a number of poetry journals, with many gathered together in a chapbook entitled Thanksgiving for a Hungry Ghost.
Within three months of moving to a new home, the illness returned with a vengeance. Jason drove from Washington to Texas seeking treatment from the same clinic, but Nicole continued to decline. She quietly took her own life, leaving family and friends and all that knew her devastated. She was only 40.
We shared our last correspondence in July. She wrote:
I’m so emotional reading your email that J just forwarded me. Thank you! The lovely supportive words, I have to say, hold as much currency as your amazing gift. Too much. But your heart is felt on many levels and so gratefully received, Alys!
Now what will set life straight once and for all (hoho!) is if you perchance have ANY interest in me blending you up a custom oil based perfume? No pressure, but it would be a most welcome undertaking to get to focus on a project for a fellow “flower person!” Especially now…
I can certainly take no for an answer, but if there’s a scent-shaped desire: boom, I’m here to fill at least that!
Either way, thank you again–so much–for your sincerity and kindness. Nicole
That’s who she was. When her health improved, she continued to shine light on others with her art, her poetry, the essential oils and her gift with words. She made you feel like *you* were the special one.
Following is an excerpt from one of Nicole Meredith’s poems:
Playing the Tin Whistle
You ask me again when I will recover.
Instead I describe
how I taught myself to trill
so the note hooks upward
then drunkenly swoons,
then rights itself and holds steady.
All I can promise is that it is truly a lovely, haunting effect.
I’ve started a new Christmas tradition. It’s called patience.
I’ve learned to wait patiently in line at the post office. I peel of all my layers before going inside so that I don’t pass out from the heat. I know all the post office regulars, and look forward to a brief yet satisfying chat when it’s my turn at the window. I use the time in line to people watch. Sometimes I make productive use of the wait by addressing a card or filling out custom forms.
Patience is a gift you give others, but it’s also a gift to yourself. I feel better about myself when I’m patient.
I’m patient with my husband’s annual fretting over the lights. He once spent four hours on the floor of the garage trouble shooting strands of Christmas tree lights. Our boys were young at the time, and I grew frustrated with what seemed like such a waste of family time. I’ve mellowed. And I’ve come to understand that it’s his thing. He hangs lights on the tree, strings lights on the house, and replaces all the lights in my son’s Christmas inflatables. He makes multiple trips to the hardware store to find replacements. Small packages arrive in the mail containing fuses and bulbs. Mike is a fixer and that’s what makes him happy, so with patience comes an understanding. Everybody wins.
I’m patient with Lindy’s demands for more and more (and more) attention, but I’m patient with myself, too. When I know I need to buckle down and get some work done, I relocate her to a sunny spot in the house and close the door. Prior to that she gets pets, cuddles, treats and a roll in the catnip, but after repeated demands for ear-scratching, I finally remove her from the room so I can get things done.
I have two remarkable teenage boys requiring no patience. I guess all that earlier guidance and patience eventually paid off. They’re both delightful young men. Perhaps this tradition of patience isn’t so new at all. That said, it takes patience to cultivate any good habit, so I’m learning to be patiently patient with myself.
Go figure?
I’m sticking with a few favorite traditions this year, too.
I use tiny silver clothes pins to attach cards to the tool skirt
I’m adorning my dress-maker selfie with Christmas cards once again. I love putting her to use sporting all the beautiful cards we receive by mail. It’s a dwindling tradition, but we continue to send our own cards each year and love the ones we receive.
The boys decorating the tree a decade ago. Gifted ornaments over the years reflecting my love of gardening and hot tea.
We pull out our artificial tree the day after Thanksgiving and decorate it with the ornaments we’ve collected over the years. Every ornament has a story and that’s what makes it fun. We hang hand-made school ornaments from the boys early days along with ornaments we’ve received as gifts. We like to pick up an ornament when we travel, each one a fun reminder of a different holiday. Thomas the Tank Engine sits among the branches along with a hand-painted Christmas ball from Cannes France. It will come as no surprise that fellow bloggers Julia, Kelly and Marlene also contribute to the history and diversity of our tree. In the few days leading up to Christmas, I enjoy sitting in the dark, tree illuminated, grateful for the love in my life.
Our acrylic globe, a gift from my friend Marcia, becomes a “snow globe” this time of year. Each year is a little different from the last. Here’s the latest: I made a path using Petra paper left over from a holiday plant and some artificial snow. I added a few tiny trees from prior years and a twenty year old wooden snow man. I can squint my eyes and pretend that it’s snowing in San Jose.
Snow + Globe
Tomorrow I’ll start one more tradition. I’m volunteering for a toy distribution shift at Sacred Heart Community Services. Sacred Heart will distribute over 18,000 toys and books to 6,200 children in need in our community. This is a big step for me, as I used to get mired in depression when working so closely with the disadvantaged in my community. I retreated to a “safer” form of volunteering, either hosting drives, or serving on committees or board of directors. Since the election, I’ve been motivated to get up close again. The goal is to remain open, while at the same time protecting my tender heart. Wish me luck.
‘Tis the season…of Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanzaa and Solstice; a time to share of ourselves.
What are your special traditions this time of year?
Gardening Nirvana 