orange tree

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Reflecting the Garden

As we head into the cooler autumn months, I’ve been reflecting on a few garden projects, notably thrifting, painting, and arranging mirrors along the corner garden fence.

I’ve hung mirrors in the garden before, and continue to enjoy the placement. (summer, 2021) Why look at a dull, brown fence when you can hang mirrors instead?

It wasn’t easy finding mirrors. I went to several thrift stores before my luck changed, and I found four mirrors at one of our local Goodwill Industries shops. Three of the mirrors had black frames, and the fourth was a shiny silver. I painted it a warmer color and hung it above my wall-mounted fairy garden.

I hung the remaining three mirrors on the fence under the tree, only to realize I needed a few more to fill the space. Eventually, I found enough mirrors to fit the bill, and I’m pleased with the extra light and reflection they bring to that corner.

About a year ago, I made another change by removing the ferns growing under the orange tree in the same corner. The orange tree is about fifty years old, so the fruit it produces is no longer sweet. Further, the oranges are challenging to harvest. When we were younger, I climbed on the ladder to get some of the low-hanging fruit, but it wasn’t all that safe. We bought one of those extending poles with a fruit-gathering basket on the end, but it proved cumbersome. It also tended to break the branch with the fruit. The tree continues to provide shade and the wonderful scent of orange blossoms, but it had become a dumping ground of partially consumed fruit from hungry overnight critters. In the end, I hired a tree service to prune the tree, fruit and all, away from the fence. We’ve enjoyed a year without the mess of rotting oranges, fruit flies, and broken branches. I wish I had thought of it sooner.

Note: Move the slider, below, to see the orange tree and ferns, a year apart.

The last adjustment involved moving a molded panel with a leaf motif to disguise the enclosed compost system. Mike attached one side of the panel to the fence, and we repurposed a post to support the other side.

These changes opened up the space, allowing us to add a couple of chairs and small tables to accompany the glider. Removing the ferns lets us see the rock wall and the plants behind it, and we can now walk to and from the compost bin, especially in the wetter months, without rubbing up against wet ferns. I put down gravel and the self-seeded nasturtiums are coming up as predicted. They’re easier to manage, lower in height, and beautiful.

Another significant change to the garden involved removing our beautiful wisteria. It wasn’t a decision I took lightly, but in the end, it made sense. I’ll write more about that this week.

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Scurvy in Rats? Not in our Yard

Our orange tree produces fragrant blossoms, shelter for the squirrels and mediocre fruit.  Unless of course you’re a roof rat.  The last time my son climbed that tree at dusk he encountered a rat. He hasn’t been up the tree since.  I’ve never actually seen them in action, but every morning I find half a dozen perfectly hollowed oranges littering the ground.  The rats are probably out there as I type this, peeling an orange and getting high on vitamin C.  When the party is over, they could at least have the decency to clean up after themselves!

Orange Deception

Orange Deception

Here's the Scoop

Here’s the Scoop

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Garden Spruce Up Continues: Old Swing, New Discovery

It’s a busy week!  Since I can’t sew and plant and take pictures all day long, I fit things in when I can.  Yesterday I pre-washed my garden swing upholstery fabric (goodbye sizing, hello softness) and today set up the ironing board.  I had about ten minutes to plot my pattern strategy, also known as winging it, when I heard rustling in the orange tree.  I thought I might catch a glimpse of the squirrel entering or exiting the nest but no luck.  (They are probably out front trying to outsmart my screen saver).

After three minutes of neck-craning, I ran inside for the camera.  A powerful camera lens trumps my aging eyesight any day of the week.  Camera in hand, I still couldn’t make it out!  Was it a bird nesting or eating?  I caught a glimpse of gray and wondered if the mourning doves were back.  We don’t see them as often as we used to, and in this month of crow mating season, they are even scarcer.  Whatever was up there was clearly enjoying a long drink of orange juice.

Sated, the gray one made its move.  Methinks a rat..or a mouse…or a rat.  In broad day light!   Shouldn’t they be sleeping in the middle of the day instead of snacking on oranges?

Is it a bird?

Nope!  Definitely Not a Bird

Is it a Rat or a Mouse?

White Beard, Photo Artifact or Orange Pulp?

Is this a young rat or a grown mouse?  Take this short quiz and let me know what you think.  I got 10 out of 12 correct, but I’m still undecided.

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Mystery Nest: Sticks and Twigs

A critter built a sizable nest at the top of our orange tree using twigs and sticks to support her family. Given the size, I’m wondering if a family of squirrels plans to move in. Opossums are another possibility. I’ve not had the chance to research the style of the nest, and I haven’t seen any “traffic” to indicate who might be up there.

I’m fascinated by nests, and the resourcefulness of the resident builder. I hope she reveals herself in the weeks to come.

Who do you think built this nest?

Mystery Nest

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After Dark

After Dark

I’ve gardened in the rain and cold until my fingers were numb.  I’ve gardened at dusk till feasting mosquitoes drove me indoors.  I’ve even gardened in the mid-day heat, keeping the tormenting sun at bay with hats and sunscreens and moveable umbrellas.  But I’ve never gardened after dark.

“Dark” is subjective of course. It’s that time of day when I reluctantly turn my garden over to the other side.  If I’m outside too late, Dark reveals opossums, meandering along the fence.  Frankly, they give me the creeps.  I once encountered one on my pathway late at night, walking straight for me.  I froze in place, but it ignored me and meandered on.

Raccoons also visit the yard, playing in the fountain and on one occasion, tapping on the cat door.   The rats don’t always wait for Dark.  They rustle around in the orange tree reminding me to pack up my tools and head on in.  Dark is just around the corner.

Spiders, a gardeners friend, have cousins that prefer to wait for Dark.  They live under the BBQ and below the eaves.  They don’t make a sound, adding to the creepiness factor, but I know they’re there.

I’ve found myself racing the setting sun, trying to pull one more weed before night falls, trying to prune one last vine.   I become a little obsessed with the work at hand and I’m reluctant to stop.  In the summer months it’s usually too hot to garden by day.  My fair skin prefers the damp mists of Avalon to the sunny climate of San Jose.  Since I live in the suburbs and not a mystical novel I’m forced to make do. So I race that setting sun while acknowledging the inevitable.  My garden is harmless by day, but like the closet of my youth, with the flip of the light switch, all bets are off.