Snippets after the rain.
And the time outdoors seems to have encouraged the olive tree and the Thai lime to regrow tiny wisps of leaves.
But on the other hand, the once flower laden blueberry bush...
And amid the hope and heartache, the snails just go about their business, leaving their snail trails.
Highlighting recent encounters with fauna - feathered and furry.
In the Jardin, we've had visits from some fine feathered friends.
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| Striking mostly-white pigeon. |
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| House finches, I think. |
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| Morning dove. |
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| Red tail hawk. |
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| Squirrel. |
Conservation and conflicting conscience.
To be or not to be may be the question of life; whether to let be is the question of the gardener on flora and fauna life.
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| This year's profile photosake hibiscus - the first. |
A gardener is like God in some ways; the gardener decides what stays or goes. It's a heavy responsibility.
Of the Olsen Twins Hibiscuses rescued from the tree pit last year and resettled into the catmint planter, neither seemed to have buds all season; their foliage isn't all that much to look at through the summer, they aren't edible... the chopping block is a possibility. And then I glanced through the rain the other day and one - let's call her Mary Kate - was in full bloom! I just hadn't noticed the buds. Her companion fraternal twin - Ashley, though, might still be at risk of forcible eviction by yours truly. On the other hand, the lead hibiscus succumbed to something last Winter - wind? spotted lanternflies? So there might be space for Ashley The Hardy Hibiscus to continue in the Jardin yet.
And speaking of that planter where Mary Kate and Ashley live: Their catmint companions were exceedingly weak this year. It's one of the inherited plants from the previous tenant, so I want to hold on to it. Need to propagate it somehow. The weeds around it - those need to go - I fear they are the culprits weakening the catmints.
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| Bee Among The Shiso I. |
The the hordes of shiso sure aren't weak. They are, as usual, the bane of the Jardin. So I was planning on neutering them, snipping all the flowers as they appeared. But the bees seem to love those same flowers, so I guess we'll let them be for the bees, but then snip them before the seeds form? Can I manage to get them at that critical juncture post-fertilization and after feeding the bees, but before the seeds are formed and viable? A shiso abortion, so to speak.
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| Bee Among The Shiso II. |
As the bees were buzzing happily about, there was a ladybug too, and I feared scaring off the fauna friends of the Jardin with my anti-lanternfly tactics (soapy water and a fly swatter). The poor spotted lanternflies - they didn't do anything wrong; they just aren't from here (they're from where I'm from). But therefore, they have to go (not me, though - I plan to stay, extremist MAGAts be damned); I can't let them be. I don't like that responsibility at all. But I carry on, and carry them out, and snuff them out. Their red wings make it almost look like they might have blood, and their bodies are "juicy," like they have innards. It makes the act of squishing them rather gruesome. I don't like the task at all.
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Tangentially, since we are on responsibilities: That most responsible, exemplary carrier of the weight of duty, Queen Elizabeth II, passed, as surely everyone must already know. I can see how providing continuity for a nation and people could be burdensome, being in the public eye all the time truly a burden. At least she didn't have power anymore over weightier matters like executions and the like - like her predecessors (yes, I was watching "The Boleyns" on PBS). It was nice to see Her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth II's sense of humor in the later years, after she was fully secure in the role - the London Olympics skit, the Platinum Jubilee Paddington Bear skit - adorable, relatable. A nice touch to the close of the "second Elizabethan era," as one of the commentators coined it. (Did you catch my unintentional, but now realized, nod to the great cultural star of the first Elizabethan period in the title of this entry?)
As a kid, I was rather royals obsessed. Maybe the idea of being a princess. In fact, one of my law school admissions essays was a partial truth, and a response to my lingering interest in the royals - the question was about the last book I had read; and I had last read drivel - Andrew Morton's biography of Princess Diana, which I could not, of course, write about. I was in Queens. While pondering how to handle the law school application, I spied an old Nancy Drew, and, on rereading it as an a college educated adult, was a bit astounded; I turned the quaint, rather racist, terms used in that work into the basis and catalyst for an essay instead, about evolving assessments of fixed text.
So, yes, I have caught some of the pomp and circumstance around the Queen's funeral, pulled up footage of William and Harry's walkabout with hopeful interest in the mending of their fraternal bond. But I do have to say, I think the full time full coverage is a bit MUCH, and a tad unseemly on this side of the Atlantic. And I get Jamaica's stance. Perhaps I've evolved in my assessment of a fixed institution. I still sometimes wish to be treated like a fairytale princess, though, even if I bought my own castle and can buy my own tiara.
Spotted three spotted lanternfly nymphs; offed all three. I left the carcasses about, like heads atop spikes in medieval times or Roman crucifixions, hoping they might be a warning to other nymphs to steer clear.
By the appearance of the successive two, though, perhaps this was not the most effective strategy. And then, one of the bodies disappeared, and my mind ran to zombie nymphs. But then I saw the ants attack - a feat of collaboration and coordination, slowly, but surely, they moved the many times larger carcass.
And, with that appetizing lead-in...
I also offed the invasive chickweed and shiso, too (yes, the shiso got ahead of me, way, way ahead - and what is a weed but an unwanted plant, growing misplaced, even if cultivated in other quarters), and turned them into lunch with pinched Vietnamese balm and mint, and some celery and walnuts, simply dressed in olive oil, apple cider vinegar, and lemon pepper. Gardening, fresh lunch preparation - the joys of working from home.
So I guess we all feasted on the invaders today. Gruesome vanquishment of the alien enemies.
The return of some non-human native New Yorkers.
My most vivid Nat Geo moment in this crazy metropolis of ours unfolded some years ago when I stopped mid-run at dusk in Carl Schurz Park to watch a huge bird, clearly a raptor (probably a red tailed hawk), perched in a tree, and then, at the base of the branch on which it was resting, some sort of movement. It flapped its wings and flew off, and in the waning light, the shadowy silhouettes made it all clear - a wriggling rodent grasped in its talons ... the original New York City takeout order.
Since then, I've seen our large feathered friend again (or its relations) in the park (that photo above), as have others.
And they aren't the only non-humans coming back to city life. The City has been trying to clean up for decades - about as long as I've been here - and the seeds planted and nurtured are bearing fruit, and the creatures are coming back to partake!
My love of this city runs deep, but all of the cold hard concrete and sterile steel can just leave us sentient beings feeling bereft of that natural life force. The urban jungle can be a harsh place, but the jungle also provides refuge. And I have always believed there is the possibility, the necessity, of balance, of cohabitation, of nature existing with the structures and things we humans need for a comfortable existence. We just have to be more thoughtful about designing and going about our journey of coexistence. Not a zero sum game - there's room for all of us.
[Edited October 29, 2021.]
Honey bee hospice care.
I saw this little guy earlier this week - on a paver, which in and of itself is unusual, of course. Buzzing about, flitting from bloom to bloom is what we like to see.
He seemed almost drunk, stumbling on the ground - but there were no pollen sacks. He seemed to be dragging a leg, or limping. And then he would somehow lose balance and land on his back, legs flailing in the air.
So I thought I should help him out and flip him over with the stem of a fallen leaf. This happened a few times before I even started to record the footage here. Something seemed off.
And so after the footage, it seemed my aid was just prolonging something inevitable. I righted him, and then walked away to take care of other gardening tasks.
And when I came back a bit later, he was on his back, and still. I scooped him up with the leaf and deposited him into a planter to return to the earth.
Sobering to bear witness to another being letting go of life. There is a solemnity about it, to surrendering to Mother Nature - but a peace. And Autumn is full of those little moments.
[Contrast to the excruciating guilt of carrying out the mandate to kill any spotted lanternflies I might see. My count is up to 7. It still feels awful. And awful to realize that my method for getting the job done has become somewhat routinized. It goes against every instinct I have. All of their little corpses are under a large rock in the planter with the maple trio.😔]
[Edited October 28, 2021.]
Lifelong city girl finds herself making a report to the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation about the invasive spotted lanternfly.
Well, here's a predicament I didn't expect: I saw these two, separately, on the terrace today. The first one's pretty, right? It was stuck in the crevice between the pavers on the terrace this morning, and dead, so I decided it should have dignity in its demise and deposited it into one of the planters. Then, this afternoon, I saw the second guy, and took photos. I used Google Lens (the most convenient tool for learning the names of unfamiliar plants and animals) to try to identify it.
Turns out the two are the same thing - the spotted lanternfly - native to, among other regions, Vietnam (coincidence? I certainly hope that's all it is). And it's been causing a bit of havoc in New Jersey - it is the subject of a vehicle inspection and quarantine campaign so that it doesn't spread farther. Under the New York guidelines, I am supposed to destroy it, then report it 😬😮. YIKES!! So I tried to capture it, and true to the description of its characteristics on the interwebs (it is reported not to fly so much as hop, despite possessing wings), it hopped - over the railing of the parapet - and either dropped thirteen stories, or flew off.
Well, I have now reported my sighting to the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation. You might note that New York/Manhattan was not one of the counties under an alert on the New York site - till now? 😳😬 (So now I am harboring the body of a dead fugitive, possibly the first one in Manhattan.)
[Oh, by the way: You know how you have friends who, if you committed murder, would help you hide the body? I AM NOT ONE OF THEM - PLEASE DO NOT CONFESS TO ME. I will defend your reputation, I will help post bail, I will do everything in my power to get you the best defense attorney available, I will listen to why you did it and hold you and likely cry and torture myself that I could not help you before the deed was done. But please do not ask me to help you hide the body, and feel horrible for the victim and horrible for you and horrible about me and my limited capabilities for being a friend; I won't be able to and will feel like I need to report the death to the authorities - as I reported the spotted lanternfly. Just please keep me in the dark till it all comes out.]
Alien "invaders," like this spotted lanternfly, are entirely distinguishable from refugees ... like the Afghan translators and civilian workers and other helpful, on the ground allies and friends of the United States during the last two decades of war, to whom we owe a moral obligation to provide a home here, in our country. But whom we are, shamefully, about to leave in limbo as their country collapses around them to a brutal regime, because we somehow did not get it together to airlift them out over the last seven months. How, how, could we not have learned from Vietnam? How? Beyond, beyond upsetting. The reports have set off some anxiety in me; even without firsthand memories, and only a life of stories of fleeing as a long ago capital fell, heard as I eavesdropped on adult conversations at an age when I was far too young to contextualize, but old enough to understand fear and sadness and uncertainty and trepidation, a refugee child never outgrows the unease and sense of moving amid danger. So I have written to all of my elected representatives imploring them to accelerate the evacuation process.
I checked in with my friend who lived and worked in Afghanistan most of the last decade; he has been furiously writing letters of recommendation in support of special immigrant visas. He is a good one, a truly good one. Heartbreaking, for all of his, and others', work to go down the drain in a disorderly departure, for individuals who helped him, and their families, to be left in danger.
Postscript: In the time it took to edit and add links, Kabul fell. Just this morning I was still urging people to write their elected officials to accelerate the evacuation. I thought there might be days. There were barely even hours. The Good One (formerly "NF") thinks it might not be so bad. A mutual friend, a woman with whom I once worked as a legal assistant, who married a man who runs an NGO for which the Good One worked for a while, also thinks it might not be so bad. I very much hope that is the case. (The Good One volunteered to go back in. At least with such a rapid fall, I hope there will be no need for him to do so. It's already bad enough that he is in a COVID hot zone helping the Rohingya. But he will do what he does - "GO" is an apt acronym for him; that is what he does - he cannot stay put. The realization I could never have convinced him makes friendship easier; it wasn't me, it was him all along. Admirable, truly. But untenable for a relationship.)
[Edited August 15, 2021.]
