Succulents, Weeds and Other Wild Critters

A few days ago I bought myself a Mother’s Day present on-line. A cardboard box of twelve tiny succulent seedlings, along with a spray bottle. On a trip to the drier north months ago I’d gathered cuttings of a variety of succulents and cacti. Though I managed to get them to root in sand, they all dried up after I transplanted them in especially researched and prepared soil. I blame our extremely hot summer and global warming, though you’d think they would have been happy in that climate. I lost several plants this past summer. My two potted tomato plants were not happy campers either. One, after producing a few tomatoes, shriveled and bit the dust. The other one decided to yield one tomato and two promising-looking blooms.

    In the time of quarantine on-line shopping has blossomed. I bought the succulent seedling kit for my two daughters-in-law as well. 

        Yesterday our youngest granddaughter, Mila, celebrated her first birthday. We bought her a set of musical instruments and an animal puzzle (with animal sounds when she places the right piece), all made out of wood.  Mila came with her mom and dad and opened her presents in our front yard, all of us wearing masks, except Mila. No hugs allowed.

        This morning the doorbell rang, which is unusual these days. A big wooden box was delivered. At first sight I thought it was a box of fruit of the season. Apples? Pears? But no. Lined with a large sheet of brown paper, the box held our breakfast: a bag of assorted fresh breads, jars of honey, cream cheese and Nutella, yoghurts, two tea bags, a jar of juice and a little nosegay. Breakfast in a box. What a delight to receive such an unexpected gift! With malls closed, creativity blooms.

        In Coronavirus times, with many options denied, I’m challenged to come up with alternatives for using my time. Cooking is not my favorite pastime, but I feel pleased with myself when I come up with original ideas for using left-overs. I’m a gardener of sorts, but our garden is looking sad now in fall and I can’t go out to buy some bright flowers. I’ll check if I can buy plants online. I’ve been entertaining myself feeding the three birds that consider our tiny garden theirs: a robin and two rufous-collared sparrows. I’m trying to train the robin to come when I whistle. He’s been coming closer to me, but is still very wary. And to think that in San Francisco California, coyotes are romping around as if they owned the place.

        How I miss contact with the natural world. I read about a new hobby in England that combines botany with city streets and sidewalks called botanical chalking. I love the idea! If you identify a weed growing in the cracks, write its name next to it with chalk. The first challenge is to learn to identify the weeds (got plenty in our patch of grass in the back yard)! But this must be in a public space, the idea being to promote an appreciation for those lowly beings we call weeds.

    An interesting, worthwhile project to fill those pandemic hours.

Lost: One Green Thumb

Tiny, green, leaf-munching worms. Disfiguring gall mites on my fuchsias. Browning rose leaves. Weed invasion on my lawn. Am I losing my touch? Or can I blame these garden afflictions on El Niño? He takes the blame for anything out of the ordinary, including welcome events like an abundance of butterflies this spring. Our ever-present air pollution is another convenient scapegoat. I must share some of the blame for garden failures and go through the checklist. Over watering? Over-or under-fertilizing? Too much sunlight? Too much shade? The plant doesn’t like its pot? I resort to garden books and Internet for answers and non-toxic pesticides.

Today I discovered that gall mites are the culprits for my fuchsia woes. There it was. A photo on internet. “That’s it!” I cried. Two plant experts had been unable to diagnose the problem. Now I must persevere and accept the challenge – cutting off the ugly tumor-like protrusions and mixing a non-toxic spray solution to be used weekly. The Internet expert warns that I may never totally eliminate the mites as they are spread by hummingbirds and bees. Imagine a garden without those visitors.

My persevering care last year paid off with Speedy Gonzalez, our sick tortoise. Syringe feeding for months, taking blood tests and x-rays were onerous and time consuming with no guarantee of success. I’m pleased to report that he’s back to his old tortoise self this season, pacing the back yard with occasional sneaks into the house, munching grass greedily and gorging on fallen apricots.

Our hopes and endeavors may or may not bear fruit. That’s the challenge that enriches us – not knowing the outcome. Persistence in the face of uncertainty.

Russian writer Anna Akhmatova regarded living as a “habit.” This idea had me thinking– for about 60 seconds.  Yes, habit does occupy a certain part of my days. But what about the conscious decisions I make throughout the day? Decisions that require effort like treating an ailing tortoise or planning a birthday getaway for my husband.  If life consisted only of habit, how boring our days would be. What of our efforts? Achievements? Failures? Why get up in the morning if no elements of serendipity or surprise are possible or even probable?

A brief event today reminded me to always expect the unexpected, for a state of constant expectation is the antithesis of habit. I went to my Pilates class, my usual morning routine three days a week. Afterwards, the supermarket was on my schedule. But Yolanda, a Pilates colleague and neighbor, invited me to her house where she massaged my arthritic wrists and thumbs with her miraculous oils. Bliss! She covered my wrists with her hands, transmitting her warmth, and then followed up with a soothing massage. I told her how wonderful it was to feel her loving care. She sent me home with a bottle of cannabis oil – on loan. Maybe I’ll recover my lost green thumb.