Variegated Hoya Carnosa

Day 261: Hoya carnosa is the hoya you're most likely to find in garden stores and plant shops. It comes with two foliage colour variations: plain green and varigated green and white. It bears large umbels (this one is almost four inches across) with a light fragrance. As houseplants go, it's virtually indestructible, although I have friends who claim they have never been able to grow one. I suspect the problem may lie in over-watering rather than under-watering, since this group of plants likes to go almost entirely dry between waterings.

Well, Hell!

Day 260: It's official. I am now a statistic. As careful as I have been, it finally caught me. Or vice versa, I guess. I will spare you the sordid details, but suffice to say that it hit me hard about dinnertime yesterday when, coincidentally, my power went out. I had such chills that I could barely walk, went to bed under a pile of blankets and passed a rough night. Better this morning, but I want to start on antivirals as soon as I can. It's out there, people. If it got me, it can get anybody.

Plum Beauty Desert Rose

Day 259: My Adeniums are doing better insofar as hanging onto their foliage now that I've begun misting them daily. It stands to reason. They are a desert plant which in the natural setting receives very little moisture other than that in the air. However, when they are too dry, the leaves will drop or be stunted and curled. I won't say I have the magic formula, but at least they no longer resemble the potsful of sticks which make my friends wonder why I bother. "Plum Beauty" is a grafted cultivar. Mine is the tallest of the three Desert Roses living in my south-exposure kitchen window sill, a sheer delight to behold while I'm at the task of dish-washing.

Spring Mystery

Day 258: Sooner or later, the black hole into which all the springs are disappearing is going to reach critical mass. There must be at least a dozen that I can't find even though I've gone around with a flashlight to peer under furniture and a stick to reach into crevices. A few have surfaced unexpectedly, leading me to believe Merry knows exactly where they've gone. We started with what was left from Tippy's original package of twenty (few of which were ever lost), went through that in short order, and we're quickly depleting a second package (minus a few which were sent off to be a gift for someone else's cat). Besides sliding across the kitchen linoleum like a baseball player coming into home base after them, Merry enjoys batting them around in the bathtub. Knowing that I will never win this game, I just ordered a pack of 60. That should keep him busy for a month or so.

The Welcome-Home Begonia

Day 257: In this instance, even my blog is no help. As far back as 2020, I posted that I had lost count of the years I've kept this Begonia tuber going. Every fall when the cold weather begins to settle in and perhaps has even silvered the yard with a light frost or two, I break off the remaining stems, dust off the dirt, and wrap the tuber in a paper towel which I then place in the "jam cupboard" in the cool corner of the kitchen. It stays there until some time in March, whereupon I bring it out, unwrap it and stick it in its pot by a window. It usually has a few stem buds by that time, and within a very few days, the first leaves will begin to unfold. After I feel certain that frost will not touch it under the protection of the carport, I sit the pot on the front step where the flowers can welcome me home when I go out. The cultivar is called "Non-Stop." They could have called it "Old Faithful" for my nickel.

American Goldfinch

Day 256: I have to keep reminding myself that American Goldfinches are now Spinus tristis rather than Carduelis, having been placed in the same genus as Pine Siskins. A lot of field guides haven't caught up to the change and will show them with the older nomenclature. The species is the official Washington State Bird, and one of the brightest spots of avian colour in our relatively drab population. They lose their gold in winter and in fact can be difficult for novice birders to distinguish from Siskins during non-breeding months. Pay close attention to the beak (Siskins' beaks are more pointed), and Goldfinches will have white wing bars (Siskins' are yellowish) and no streaking on the breast and back. No matter what the books tell you, American Goldfinches will pass on nyger if black-oil sunflower seeds are available to them.

Delphinium

Day 255: There is an abundance of confusion when it comes to the delphinium/larkspur debate, much of it arising from revisions of taxonomy coupled with inconsistent application of common names. This is a garden variety Delphinium, and by "garden variety," I mean precisely that: a plant you'll find in the garden. Delphiniums are generally perennial, tall, with flowering stems sometimes reaching up to six feet, with flat-faced, open blooms borne all along the spike. The Delphinium known as Larkspur is commonly an annual, shorter, with wiry stems adorned with only a few flowers spaced rather more openly. "Delphinium" currently applies to both, but "Larkspurs" were classed previously as Consolida. As romantic as the common name "Larkspur" is, if it's in a garden, call it a Delphinium. If it's in the backcountry, call it a Larkspur. That should get you through most situations where you have to make a judgment call.

A Difficult Concept - "Not Yours"

Day 254: It is a horribly difficult concept, "Not yours." Tippy understood it, and it was all I would have to say to keep him from getting into anything I wanted him to leave alone. I did not have to say it loudly or harshly. A simple, softly spoken, "That's not yours" was sufficient. I don't even recall that it was hard for him to understand as a six-month old kitten, but Merry is only eleven weeks old and still intensely curious about the world. I have effectively established some boundaries, but others are proving troublesome. I think his former people allowed him on countertops, but that is not permitted here. I've had to break out the spray bottle to reinforce my expectations, and if nothing else, he now knows exactly what it means even if he still pushes the limits when he's tired and feeling particularly mischievous. That said, "Not yours" is getting through to him. He watched the whole warp-winding process from the comfort of his paper bag with only a few attacks on the strings and swinging Gatorade bottles when the temptation was just too much for a small kitten-catten to endure.

Where All The Greens Went

Day 253: My rug strip box was filled and overflowing into two large bags, so I figured it was time to make another batch of rag rugs, but I was desperately short of bright colours, particularly greens. I put out an all-points call, and friends came through. Suddenly, I found myself with an abundance of greens, and since it just happens to be my favourite colour, I decided to make the last of three rugs for myself. I'd already used some of the greens in the first two and thought I might run short if I stuck exclusively to green, so I threw in some brights to liven up the random design. Now I find myself short of greens again, and I'm still up to my eyeballs in grey, black and red. It's feast or famine, and I've just measured off a new warp (with Merry's help) for three more rugs.

It's A Snap!

Day 252: It's a snap to grow snapdragons! It's been several years since I bought four colours as bedding plants, and they have self-seeded each successive year. I do find the occasional "volunteer" somewhere surprising, like in the raspberry patch, seed carried there by a bird or perhaps even on the sole of my shoe. Snaps are amazingly tenacious, blooming sometimes even after frost has killed down other plants. If they get a little aggressive, spreading to locations where they're unwanted, they're easy to dig out and transplant to a new spot. Snapdragons are cheery and fun! Every garden should have a few.

Cedar Waxwing

Day 251: "That's a Cedar Waxwing!" I said, surprised to see the bird (Bombycilla cedrorum) on the shepherd's-hook close to the window rather than in the cover of a tree, and somewhat puzzled at observing it at this time of the year. The Sitka Mountain-ash tree berries are green and hard, without flowers or ripe fruit to entice the species. Admittedly, that's not an exclusive diet, and upon checking, I found that they also eat serviceberries, but even those are rather scarce in the immediate vicinity. This bird may have been dining on insects in lieu of fruit. Waxwings are known to catch mayflies in flight as well as other bugs. That said, they generally come here in spring and fall, and are absent during the summer. I think the weather may have us all confused.

Merry The Weaver

Day 250: Okay, I know I said I wasn't going to bury my readers in kitten pictures, but how could I possibly resist posting this one? Merry helped weave that rag rug he's sitting on, and by "help," I mean that he made sure the warp came off the roller evenly by inserting himself beneath it, checked the underside of the cloth to be sure I hadn't left any floats, and when I cut the first two rugs off (there's only so much space between the cloth roller and the table), he assisted in testing the knots when I retied the warp ends. 8/4 rug warp withstands a three-pound kitten walking gingerly across the web of threads or using them as a hammock. The fun of weaving has taken on a whole new dimension with my little helper's participation.

Merry Says Thank You

Day 249: Merry Kitmas! It was quite an exciting day for Merry yesterday as he helped me unpack the seven boxes UPS left on our doorstep. His friends from all over the world had sent him housewarming gifts for his new forever home, and of course the best part of presents is unwrapping them. While Mama did assembly, he helped by isolating parts, approving the construction procedures, and most importantly, processing the paperwork. He was one happy, tired kitten by bedtime, having played with or investigated everything and wanted me to be sure to thank everyone for everything on his behalf (with the possible exception of the toothpaste from his uncle Kevin!)

Steller's Fledgling

Day 248: All around me, new little people are discovering the world. From Merry (currently asleep in my lap after a large THIRD breakfast) to the baby juncoes and short-winged, short-tailed Grosbeaks I have to sidestep when I go outside, they are learning lessons, exploring, testing boundaries, curious about anything and everything they see. This Steller's Jay (Cyanocitta stelleri) is newly fledged. How can I tell? His colouration isn't well-developed for one thing, and his facial markings haven't come in yet, but more to the point, his gape (the fleshy "hinge" of his beak) is still pinkish. The pink or light-coloured gape exhibited by many young birds helps the parents find them in the dark confines of the nest. It turns dark within a few days of fledging.

Golden Chain

Day 247: The Golden Chain Tree is in bloom. This was one of the items on my priority list when I bought my home over thirty years ago, but I had trouble finding one I felt I could afford. Most of what was available came in huge pots, so large that I knew I couldn't get one into my car or, more importantly, get it back out again and to the spot where I wanted to plant it. Then one day as I was nosing around in one of my favourite garden stores, I came across a weeping variety at a reasonable price. Big pot or not, the tree just fit in the back of my car with the branches filling the passenger seat and only slightly bent down against the front windshield. It was something of a challenge to heft the pot out the rear hatch and roll it into place. My father had insisted that if you bought a $5 tree, you should put it in a "$50 hole" to ensure its survival, so I set to digging and filling, using store-bought garden soil to bed it in. Daddy's wisdom paid off. It's still not very tall, but it blooms reliably, and the weeping habit enhances the effect of the golden chains of pea-shaped flowers which give this Laburnum its common name.

Nature Photography Day

Day 246: It seems like every day has some special significance attached to it now, perhaps with a dozen or more occasions being recognized. I do try to remember Towel Day and International Talk Like a Pirate Day, but I always miss things like World Cat Day, National Coffee Day, etc. Apparently all it takes to have a special "national" day is to register it with the "National Day Calendar." Seems kinda stupid to me to have a "National Foam Party Day" (also today), but there ya go. Why not? Or equally, why? I stumbled across the fact (a term I use loosely in this context) that today is Nature Photography Day. Now that's a concept I can get behind! And since my time is now almost exclusively devoted to making sure one special kitten is comfortable in his forever home, I escaped out the back door while he was napping, snapped a picture of the first blooming thing I saw in my yard, and managed to get back inside the house before he discovered I was gone. Although I didn't register it as a national day, Happy Honeysuckle!

Rhododendron

Day 245: No landscaping in Washington is complete without the addition of a Rhododendron. It's our State Flower! The most recognizable native variety resembles those sold commercially in that it makes large clusters of pinkish-white to pink flowers and has the large leaves familiar to gardeners. It is often called Pacific Rhododendron or (ironically) California Rhododendron. Its scientific name, Rhododendron macrophyllum, means "Rhododendron with large leaves" (d'uh!). However, at least four other Rhododendrons occur in the state. R. albiflorum looks like a blueberry bush, and bears its greenish-white flowers singly or in small clusters; R. groenlandicum and R. columbianum are small and shrubby, and carry heads of little white flowers above leathery leaves; R. menziesii is somewhat taller and more woody, and its flowers are bell-shaped like those of huckleberries. None of these four jumps out at the observer to say, "I am a Rhododendron." That distinction lies with our iconic State Flower which can grow up to eighteen feet tall and measure nearly as broad.

Master Meriadoc's Official Portrait

Day 244: I have yet to meet a cat who doesn't dislike the soul-stealer, and Merry is no exception. He posed for his official portrait somewhat reluctantly, and I had to do a fair bit of processing to bring him out of the shadows because I didn't dare use the flash. This is one smart young gentleman. He has already trained me in the matter of plastic spring toys. They belong in the kitchen where they can be batted about on the linoleum, not in the living room where the carpet interferes with their movement. If I throw one across the rug, he takes it in his mouth, trots like a prize stallion out into the kitchen and then begins playing with it. On the flip side, he seems to know that if I point directly at him when he's thinking about jumping up on the bathroom counter from the toilet seat, I mean "that's not a kitty place." There is a lot of give-and-take in raising a kitten and in training a mama, and the largest factor in success is patience, lots of patience. And that I have. Who else do you know who has wild birds (six species and counting) eat from their hand?

Fig Progress

Day 243: Several of the figs have increased in size by double or more since a week ago today. Yes, I do think I will have fresh figs to enjoy later on this year, unless a squirrel or raccoon finds them (and I haven't seen either varmint in some time). Desert King is a green fig, and at full size, a single fruit would fit snugly in a standard coffee mug. Juicy and sweet when picked sun-warm from the tree, they are absolutely delicious. The tree can be kept pruned back to a height which makes it easy to harvest. Mine is currently about 5' high, and I plan to let it grow another foot or so.

Master Meriadoc

Day 242: I promise not to submerge my readers in kitty photos, but I do beg your indulgence for a few. This was a major change in my life, losing Tippy so suddenly, and now my hours are dedicated to Master Meriadoc as he adjusts to his new household. We slept unexpectedly well last night, although having a cat in the "hammock" of blankets between your knees makes changing position quite a production. Merry went right to bed at lights-out, and slept in that cradle until 2:30 when he decided I needed to wake up and play. We did chase-the-fingers for half an hour (gently) and then he was happy to go back to sleep, this time curled up beside my head, and holding hands with me. It did him a world of good, because when we got up, he went immediately into Zoomie Hellcat mode and didn't slow up for five hours. When he did crash, he dropped like a rock in the chair. I picked him up, put him in my lap, and that's where we've been for the last hour or so. He is a bundle of energy, and I swear he can leap sideways without his feet ever touching the floor. What surprises me most is how well he's adjusted to his new environment, i.e., without any real break-in period at all. It is obvious that he was given a lot of love in his former home, because he is very human-oriented, following me everywhere, yowling when I'm out of sight, tangling himself in my ankles, sitting on my foot, leaping into my lap regardless of where I'm sitting. And purr? He has a motor that would do a rock crusher proud, for all that he only weighs two pounds eleven ounces.

Klingon

Day 241: UPDATE: His name is Meriadoc, Merry for short. And he's claimed the chair for his own (see below).

I am not going to have a moment's peace! For one thing, he doesn't want to let me out of his sight. For another, he's a genuine cling-on when he does settle down. He's 10 weeks old today, a Russian Blue/Manx cross with a little stubby tail and as much bounce as a truckload of frogs. And he's cranky about being confined to the bathroom for a while until he adjusts. I haven't picked out a name yet, although I have several possibilities (something Klingon maybe, in honour of his behaviour). Of course we still have some vet visits ahead of us to have a workup done, to continue his vaccines, to have him neutered. These are the drawbacks to adopting from a family as opposed to from a shelter, but when I saw his picture on Craigslist, I fell in love. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go play with the baby.

Sack o' Strips

Day 240: I'm weaving rag rugs again after finally getting over two dozen t-shirts washed and cut into one-inch strips. I wanted to do them all so that I would have the broadest selection of colours to draw from, and I realized I was going to have to find a better way of randomizing them than jumbling them all up together on the floor and then stuffing them into a 5-gallon bucket. I hit upon the idea of tossing them into the dryer, and it worked beautifully except for the fact that they're rather tangled up on themselves. That said, I always stretch each strip before I weave it. Pulling them free from the snake's-nest accomplishes that part of the job quite well. Each rug takes about a pound and a quarter when the strips are cut this size. I haven't weighed the bag, but I've already got one completed rug on the roller, and I've barely made a dent in the supply.

Geum Macrophyllum

Day 239: Although common along roadsides and in ditches, Geum macrophyllum (Large-leaved Avens) is not a weed in the sense of "introduced species." It is native to the Pacific Northwest and can be found from sea level to the subalpine zone in locations where there is sufficient moisture. Its leaves and stems are somewhat prickly to the touch, and can grow to heights of over two feet. Its achenes (fruits which do not open to release the seed) are hooked at the tips, which allows them to cling to animal fur and hikers' socks when dry and ready to fall from the plant. Although its flowers resemble those of buttercups, the species are unrelated.

Pink Thing On The Bald

Day 238: About half a mile in, the Rimrocks trail begins a short, slow climb which opens out into a bald covering roughly 1200 square feet. The soil is thin, bedrock showing through in several places, and yet it supports a small plant I've seen nowhere else. One of yesterday's goals was to see if "the pink thing on the bald" was in bloom. Pink thing? I was scraping my memory for the name. As I came up the incline and a pink haze of four-inch tall flower stalks came into view, I said aloud, "Plectritis? Hmmm...now why did that word spring to mind? Plectritis? I'm not sure that's right, but why am I thinking it?" I took the requisite pictures for a Penny Perspective, and then kept going, muttering "Plectritis?" to myself every now and then until I had reached my chosen turn-around a mile further on. The climb to the top of the bald is steeper coming back the other way, although still very short, and as I mounted it, the words "Plectritis congesta" fell from my lips. Even so, I still wasn't convinced that the Latin applied to this particular plant, but when I got home, it was a simple matter to verify that my aging memory was indeed intact by checking my blog. It's been three years since I had to pull those words out of my mental database. Known commonly as Sea-blush, what's this species doing so far inland?

Therapeutic Plant Hunt

Day 237: By our very nature, human beings tend to dwell in their grief, and I am no exception. The full impact of losing Tippy hit me yesterday in late afternoon, and I said as much to a few select friends who almost all responded in the same way: You need to get out in the woods. I knew they were right, so today I went out on a therapeutic plant hunt, hoping that a little-known and seldom used trail would yield at least one of the species I've seen there and nowhere else. My first goal was Sanicula crassicaulis var. crassicaulis, and I am finally able to show it to you as a Penny Perspective, clusters of tiny yellow flowers gathered together in a space smaller than Lincoln's head. I first observed the foliage several years ago, and when I couldn't identify it, shipped the photos off to two botanist friends who helped me out. One of them said, "You must go back when it's in bloom." I had no idea what to expect (on-line images make it look much larger!) and was delightfully surprised to see its delicate inflorescences. It promptly went on my mental list of "favourite plants." Before I left this morning, I checked my records. Yes, I'd seen it in bloom in early June. Today's specimens were largely already in the seed-forming stage, although I was able to find a few with flowers. And, focused as I was on botany, some of the pain of the last few days lifted. Thank you, my friends, for kicking my butt out into the woods.

Occasion For Hope

Day 236: Even a small thing can bring hope if you allow it. My fig tree has previously failed to bring its fruit to maturity, but this year's figs are already larger than ever before, and there are more of them, quite a few more. Several are the size of the end of my thumb, surprising because our weather has been fairly cold (especially at night) and wetter than usual, and figs are warmth-lovers as a general rule. Desert King (my variety) is one of the better producers for the Pacific Northwest climate, and the friend who gave me my start has a tree twenty feet tall which fills most of her front yard and bears a heavy crop every year, so many that she begs friends to take them off her hands. I will be content if I get even a few to enjoy fresh off the tree, and it looks like this year, that might actually happen.

My Good Little Boy

Day 235: My love, my good little Boy, Tickle-Monster, Spaghetti Monster, it was a long, long way to Tipperary, but when I brought you to share my life, you gave me so much love. When you got into mischief, it was funny: shredding an entire roll of toilet paper, pulling spaghetti out of the cupboard and playing with the spilled jackstraws. You demanded your tickles, urging me to chase you into your tunnel where you'd roll over and bunny-kick my hand while I tickled your tummy. And the "Gotcha game"...never a claw, never a bite as we roughhoused. And you wanted your hugs, arms around my neck, wanted to be tipped over in my lap and held against my chest, purring, purring, purring. You let me do those "wicked things" to kitties without objection, like baths and toothbrushing, trusting me completely because you loved me so much. My little Boy, my Tippy, my love!

From the East, the direction of the Mountain and of the rising sun
Comes strength.
From the South, the direction of the Earth
Comes stability.
From the West, the direction of the sea and of the setting sun
Comes harmony.
From the North, the direction of the wind and of the aurora borealis
Comes the Current of Life.

Tippy's Post

Day 234: Update: There were complications. My little love Tippy is no longer with us.

 We are not out of the woods yet because he has to be anaesthetized for the procedure (a dodgy proposition, given that he has a Grade 4 heart murmur), but at least we know what the problem is. Tippy is in the hospital with a UTI and concurrent urinary blockage, and will remain there at least overnight, possibly until Friday. I'll spare everyone the details, but he had a very rough weekend, and I could not find an emergency vet to take him to unless I went to one almost two hours away with a long list of Google reviews complaining that although they gave good treatment, their prices were three to four times what any non-emergency vet would charge. I made an appointment with Tippy's regular doctor for this morning, and was there when they opened the doors. While they did x-rays and an ultrasound to determine if there were stones or a mass (neither was present), I sat in the car and waited. When his doctor called me in several hours later, she said, "The good news is that we found the type of crystals we expected." He'll stay in the hospital until they get him drained out and rehydrated, and then he'll be on antibiotics for a while, with several follow-up visits. And that's all I know at this point, but at least it's encouraging.

Planned Chaos

Day 233: Posts for the next few days may be limited or non-existent. We are currently navigating a particularly rough patch, and I would prefer not to go into detail at this time.

This is planned chaos. The mix of wools was listed as "botanicals," so how could I resist? I love greens. I took each single colour, split it into 64 sections, and recombined them in colour order but not necessarily with the same amount of each shade. I spun 16 sequences on each of two bobbins (a quarter of the wool), stepping the colour order up by one for the second bobbin so that when I plied the two bobbins together, the colours changed in combination every few inches. From the original bag of wool, the end result was two skeins of Green Chaos, destined to make some truly fun socks.

Oriental Poppy

Day 232: I could have captioned this post "Throwing in the Towel," although I did eventually manage to weed all of the Oriental Poppies out of my primary flower bed. That said, I wasn't ready to eliminate them entirely. They just needed to go somewhere else to make space for plants whose appeal lingered after their flowers had faded. Y'see, Oriental Poppies have foliage rather reminiscent of thistles, at least to those not botanically inclined. They are not thorny, no, but they are rather bristly to the touch. My father enjoyed his vegetable garden enormously, and decided to extend himself into my mother's flower beds. He diligently pulled out all the "thistles" he could find, being the helpful sort, but my mother was not pleased with his efforts. So good was he at his work that he accomplished in one season what it took me years to achieve here: total eradication of Oriental Poppies in the perennial beds. Today, mine live in the Barren Wasteland, another success story from the place where few things can be successfully grown. However, I dead-head the "salt and pepper shakers" before they dry, lest I find "thistles" in places they are not welcome.