More garden photos

After this mornings post, I figured we all needed something to cheer us up.



Here is the latest photo of the new tenants kids.



Prairies Sun Rudebekia



Blue Lace Cap Hydrangea



Annabelle Hydangea



And one of my favorites, Lillies.

At any rate. After a long day at work, I went out and watered my garden. Spending a half hour or so out in my garden, watching things grow and observing progress helped me relax and get a different perspective. Life goes on.

Heatwave

Boston is one huge grey fug. As Monkey observed, you feel like you need a machete to cut through the air. It is a bit strange for someone like myself who used to thrive in the heat, that I seem to be getting slowed down.

I went to bed early, wound up oversleeping and blowing off the gym. I walked in a very leisurely manner over the river, stopping for coffee on the way at one of my usual stops. The early morning clientele were like sonambulists. The only lively character, the art student who works at the front counter, who had my coffee ready and waiting before I ordered. (The benefits of being a regular who tips)

I am not sure that the heat is the only reason that I am feeling out of sorts. I have been very busy at work. Lots of projects, lots of problems that are out of my control that are creating new sets of problems that are leaving me feeling brain dead by the time I leave the office.

The trainer that I have been working with has taken a new and better job. I am happy for him, but not so happy for me. Aside from the fact that we have become quite friendly and I have come to like him, he was also the manager of the gym and was a good presence in the facility. Cheerful, friendly and helpful. I know why he left his job and it does not give me any good feelings about the direction the facility may take upon his departure.

Maybe it is all of these things in conjunction but a lot of my motivation is drying up. I do not feel like writing in my blog, or doing anything during the work week that actually requires any reasoning powers. I am in a funk.

I have an appointment with the shrink, so maybe it will do me some good to get some of this out of my system. I will most likely be back in the gym tomorrow, getting my energy up before another day of putting up with other peoples nonsense. The weather is suppose to cool, I have plenty of mindless chores ahead in the garden over the weekend and friends to catch up with.

See, I'm starting to feel better already.

Oh Daddy!

I can't say I've really taken to being called a Daddy since I've hit a certain age. However, if you happen to be a really handsome 6'6" black man, and you call me Daddy, I'll be willing to overlook it. (It helps if you're really well hung too)

Happy Summer

Today is the official first day of summer. Also called midsummer, as in "A Midsummer Night's Dream". It is the longest day of the year, which seems odd, since the days just seem to fly in the summer, and the winter solstice which is the shortest day of the year, seems to drag on forever.

The weather today, either is or is not conducive to the sense of magic that Shakespeare put into his play. It is cloudy here in Boston and the temperatures are only suppose to make it into the low 70's. But they are threatening thunderstorms, and the roses are still in bloom, late spring flowers are still in evidence and the world is still seeming young and fresh.

By August, the city will seem dusty and tired. All of the fresh green of spring will have somehow lost its vibrancy and the slow pace of high summer will have effected both the appearance and mood of the city.

For now it is almost like a mood of anticipation. A red-tailed hawk circles over the turnpike and then settles on the red tile roof of the old Hotel Somerset on Charlesgate. The scent of the lime trees in bloom soften the air, harsh with the exhaust fumes of the morning commuters. The pace has slowed. The students gone for the summer in this college town, people are more leisurely, the chores and cares of the day can wait a bit for attention.

Men in t-shirts and tanks call out for my attention, though summer is a time for love, not spring. The mating dance is done. Spring, that lusty and burgeoning season has exhausted itself and now like a perfectly ripe peach, summer waits to drop in our lap. Now is the time for long days, picnics, the beach, or seeking the shelter of cool shade to refresh from meandering in the sun. Short nights spent dancing, going here and there for an evenings entertainment or simply finding a congenial spot to enjoy the cool of th evening air, building a cache of memories to warm the long winter nights.

But today is grey. I hope we do get the thunderstorms they are promising. Sturm und Drang. Some proper drama for the day. Oberon and Titania in conflict, then a clearing sky, the sun, reunion, the happy lovers united at last. I do not know what the day will bring, but reading this over, I have put on my donkeys ears. I am looking at the world differently, and who knows what wonders this day and the newly minted summer will bring.

The New Tenent

I don't know how well anyone can see this, but a robin has taken up residence in my rose bush. Pretty cool huh?

Good Cause

A lot of talk goes on about doing the right thing. Helping people. Making a difference. Dave is actually doing that. Follow the link over to his blog. Make a donation. You'll feel good. Trust me.

Shopping list

As I was working out this morning it occurred to me that I should stop at the drugstore on the way into work. The foremost reason being that I had neglected to buy a birthday card for Monkey. He turns an ancient 31 today.

I also decided I should get some decongestant as well, because getting my Allegra refilled was one of the personal errands that got pushed aside over the weekend. Then I remembered I needed toothpaste, a necessary purchase for if no other reason the obscene amount of money that I spend at the dentist, and I was running low on condoms and lube, another necessary purchase, if for no other reason than the idea that hope springs eternal.

Quite a shopping list, huh? I have since been trying to think of possible stories that the check out clerk could construct from the items that I purchased. I am thinking it would involve preparations for a big birthday celebration for a loved one. Or at least a lusted one, accompanied by hay fever and a desperate sensibility about oral hygiene.

I remember a woman that I once knew who had a big, friendly Lab. He was a great dog except for a certain unreasoning attraction to skunks. I can tell you, there are plenty of skunks in the Boston are, so he had plenty of opportunities to make new friends. She discovered after living with a rather more fragrant than usual dog that a product called "Summers Eve" was especially effective in counteracting the effects of skunk.

He was a big dog and it took a lot of... er... feminine hygiene product to bath the dog. She found buying it in large quantities a little embarrassing, so she used to go to a convenience store in the dead of night. One night she just broke down and decided to buy a case. When she brought her purchase up to the counter the young man gave her a curious and slightly horrified look.

She had a skunked dog, a case of douche and I am guessing about all she felt like taking for that day because she looked him in the eye and just said,"I'm having a really heavy month, okay?"

Happy Father's Day

My daughter called me. I called my Dad. Done and dusted.

Goin' to the Chapel

I rarely comment on politics, but I have to give a shout out. The proposed referendum on same sex marriage was defeated in a 45-151 vote today, due in large part to Governor Patrick and his lobbying efforts.

The wingnuts are threatening to investigate for any possible irregularities.

While there are not enough microwaves and toasters in the world to tempt this Ganome down the aisle, I can understand why others find the idea attractive. Here's hoping that within the foreseeable future equal marriage becomes the law of the land and we can join our northern neighbor as well as Spain (not known for it's socially progressive ideas) and South Africa to mention a few.

Now, if we can just do something about national health care...

New Dawn

My rose is doing its thing. Pretty great, huh? The rose is called New Dawn and the Clematis is called Etoile Violet.

No if's and's or...

By popular demand. What? Did you think I was gonna drop my pants? Set up a Paypal account and we'll talk.




You can thank Monkey for the lovely photos of Ganome butt and flab.

Nice flowers

I woke up to a really dreary day this morning. It hardly seemed as though the sun had come up. Grey, dark, almost chilly, you get the idea. It would have seemed a bit more discouraging except I had some new plants I wanted to get in the ground and this is ideal planting weather.

So, there was I, trotting out of the house at 6:00 a.m., carrying a flat of flowering goodness, heading for the garden.

As I walked out, a couple of biker bears were across the street getting ready to go off to some pre-pride event. Or something. I'm making assumptions here. Anyway, they were in their own way, pretty tasty, so I was blatantly checking them out. They in return were giving me the once over. The taller of the two yells over to me, "Nice flowers!", in a friendly way. I smiled at them and called back, "Nice bike!". He then said something that sounded like "Wanna take a ride!", but I was on a mission and just smiled at them and kept moving.

There was a certain amount of rubber necking and as they started the bike, I craned my neck around, tall biker had climbed up behind his bear buddy and shouted as they pulled out, "Hey, nice ass!"

I smiled all the way to the garden.

Fer the birds

A couple of days ago, a sparrow got into one of the faculty offices. It seems that part of my job includes evicting unwanted wildlife from senior faculty office space. (note to self, anyone untenured can just take care of themselves)

We actually got the little guy out with a minimum of fuss by opening the window and shooing it out.

Working in academia is like living in a small town and word gets around. One of the senior academic administrators heard about this incident and was asking the Prof. and me about it.

Me: Once I found a baseball bat, things went a little better.

Prof: Yes, though in retrospect the hammer wasn't such a good idea. I think it was the way the wings kept flapping that got to me.

Me: I know what you mean.

Prof: Once we tipped the bookcase over onto it though that really seemed to stop all movement.

Me: Yeah, though we are going to have to get custodial services to come up and clean the rest of it out of the rug.

It was worth it, just to see the look on her face.

Disclaimer: No actual sparrows were hurt during this blog entry.

Have a cookie!

Last night Monkey and I were walking to the T together. We've both been having a tough week at work and I was bitching at length about dealing with various people pestering me with stupid bull%@#% while I was trying to get work done

Monkey: "We should have a bowl of cookies at our desks"

Me: Huh?

Monkey: "Yeah, when someone is being an asshole, we can say, 'Here, have a cookie'. We could even put little assholes on them in pink icing, they'd think they were stars."

I thought about this for a second.

Me: "We could put a raisin in the middle. And we should get some of those really bad cookies that are made mostly out of cardboard and taste mostly of nothing."

Monkey: "That's disgusting. I like it! And I don't even like raisins."

Me: "Yeah, but the cookies are for assholes."

Have I ever mentioned how much I love working with this guy.

Update: Last night when he got home, Monkey told Dabunny about our plan. Dabunny said something to the effect that none of the people we gave cookies to would get it. Some people just don't understand the beauty of a well laid plan.

I stopped at the garden on the way home last night. Much to my surprise, my neighbor Mike was in his garden. He works in his garden during the week between classes, so I rarely see him around that late in the day.



I took a picture of Mike, which for reasons unknown, didn't come out, so I am including a photo from the Ganome archives. Cute, huh?








As you can see, his garden isn't too shabby either. We yacked about things in general, and nothing in particular. As much as I needle Mike on this blog, he is a very nice guy and is always ready to provide a certain amount of silly conversation. This was particularly welcome after a rather trying day at work. Mike also keeps almost as interested an eye on my garden as I do, and suggested that I put pictures of my own peonies on my blog.






I have even thrown in a picture of my poppies for good measure. Other than that nothing much to say, except that given my druthers, I'd druther be in my garden today than working.

Monday

It is turning into Monday with a vengeance! I got up in good time this morning after a fairly good nights sleep and simply wanted to go back to bed. Instead, I dragged myself out of the house, on time mind you, and headed off to the gym. I even remembered to bring my phone and all the other accoutrement that we seem to require in order to make it through any given day in the modern age.

Once at the gym, I had a really tough time making it through my Monday routine. My gym mojo was definitely MIA. Still, I made it through. I got the train to work in a timely fashion, and I somehow managed not to get soaked in spite of the unseasonably cold and drizzly weather.

I then tried to log onto my computer. Tried being the operative word here. Ol' Bessy, which isn't even that old, seems to be having some sort of major nervous breakdown. Happily, I had my laptop with me and I have all the certificates on my computer so that when push comes to shove I can work from home. IT Billy was responsible for this as one of his last acts before heading off to the more verdant fields offered by Google.

All in all it is just turning into one of those days. Nothing spectacularly awful is going on, just lots of small irritations. Our new IT contractor took it's time to get here and fix the computer. People have been locking themselves out of offices and desks. Commencement is in a few days and lots of last minute crap seems to keep popping up, and I am just not in the mood.

It is far from the end of the world, but whatever happened to the childhood dream of doing whatever you wanted once you were an adult. Maybe that's it. At 52, I still don't feel like a grown up.

Crazy making

I was over checking out Mangina Monologues new site. I noticed in his header he had "musings from the toothless wonder". In context, it brought to mind something my father does that drives my mother crazy.

When we were kids, if my old man cut the cheese he would blame one of us kids or the dog. But, occasionally he would come out with, "Speak to me, oh toothless one!" This. Drives. My. Mother. Crazy! After 60 years of marriage, it still gets a rise out of her. She can't just ignore it. She has to say something.

This caused me to reflect on habits of friends and loved ones that continue to irk me after many years of exposure. One friend I have known for 30 years now and is in every other way a wonderful human being, but I can't sit across the table from him when he eats. He chews with his mouth open. For me, it's one of those train wreck issues. I don't want to watch, but I can't help myself. Unlike Doris, I do not say anything, but it really does irritate me on some deep level.

What sends you off? Do you know someone who in spite of consanguinity or deeply held friendship or marital status have that one habit that makes you want to throttle them?

Caught with my pants down

My friend Mike is at it again. This time he took a movie of MY peony getting pollinated and then he posted it on YouTube. He really has to be stopped.

Community Gardening

While I was hanging out on Saturday afternoon in New York, I got the chance to meet Glennalicious, who introduced me to fellow Bostonian, Ready,Reset,Go. While we were chatting Glenn was asking me about my garden and RRG asked, "Which community garden?"

When I said I was in the Fenway Victory Gardens, RRG started laughing and enlightened Glenn as to the nature of this particular park. It is probably the premier cruising park in Boston. The amount of sexual activity that goes on in the bushes there makes the backroom of the Eagle look like a meeting of the DAR. Needless to say this creates it's own challenges for those of us who have more interest in the flora of the gardens other than the effects of massive quantities of semen on phragmites. (A less than scientific, anecdotal observation would be that it causes then to spread like kudzu.)I always feel as though spring has not really arrived until the used condoms begin to bloom in my own little patch of heaven.

Another harbinger of spring is the unknown denizen of the park that my friend and gardening neighbor, Mike, has designated, "The Mad Defecator". TMD comes in the night and deposits rather impressive loads in front of peoples gates, like some tooth fairy with a severe incontinence problem. In spite of the rather disgusting nature of this phenomena, we find ourselves, horrifyingly, impressed. Not merely by the volume, which I am at a loss for words to describe. Having grown up around farms, I can say that livestock probably leave smaller flops. What is really mind boggeling is the consistency. Mike and I compared notes, and I told him about one particularly fascinating deposit that arrived in front of my gate that looked as though TMD had managed to shit out an organ. We had thought that TMD had especially chosen aisle E as his designated poop drop, but speaking with another friend Rick, I have found that TMD makes the rounds in a democratic manner to all of the gardens. If it makes me feel a little less special, it is nice to know that TMD is willing to give his all to the entire gardening community in his al fresco crapping habits.

Another challenge is fence maintenance. Because as the Motels once sang, "the days are okay, but the nights were made for love." During the course of any given night, year round, some desperately horny 'mo will climb over the fence or kick in the gate of someones garden in order to get their mojo on. This has brought about some interesting ideas for dealing with the problem. Since we are gardening in a public park, we are not allowed to string up barbed wire, dig tiger traps, construct Rube Goldberg devices, or in any way produce any hazard that could endanger the general public. Except of course for roses.

I am not particularly fond of roses as a garden plant. They tend to the prima dona and are vulnerable to all sorts of pests. However I have been cultivating climbing roses on my fence, since they are natures barbed wire. So far my choices have hinged far more on the viciousness of the thorns than any actual consideration of aesthetics. At one point someone suggested a bourbon rose, that really was very pretty, and fragrant, and I was on the point of getting out the credit card, when the fateful words, "and the best part is, it has no thorns" were spoken. The 2 varieties that currently grace my fence could gut an elephant and I have just planted a 3rd that I have high hopes for. If they sold a plant that would assault intruders, I'd buy it.

The whole challenge level has risen as well. In the advent of the crystal meth epidemic, we usually will find syringes in paths and our gardens. There have been nights when you could tell that some particularly good stuff was going around by the amount of vandalism. Hell may have no fury such as a woman scorned in love, but some tweeked out their mind queen, who ain't gettin' any is a force nine hurricane. The damage assessment on some mornings is enough to make you give it all up and find some other way to fill up your time in a way that you can find meaningful. However, collecting stamps doesn't have the same thrill. At least not for me. I am sure that philatelists enjoy the same thrill over their stamp collections as I do in my garden, it's just that stamp collecting and getting out in the healthy fresh air are not 2 things I would ordinarily put together.

Which brings us back to al fresco sex. I have no strong objections to people having it on in the great outdoors. While a Ganome would never in his life (oh crap, once you get that mud on your shoes it never comes off) dream of getting his sex on out in the shrubs, much less the dunes out on the cape, (thank god I am pretty nearly immune to poison ivy) a Ganome knows that other folks are gonna. That's fine. REALLY! I just want them to keep their dumb horny asses in the reeds and the hell out of my garden. I don't feel like I am asking too much. Now, if I can just find some of those man eating plants in the old B sci-fi movies I saw as a kid in the White Flower Farm catalog, I'll be all set.

Kitty Korpse

When the Ganome dragged his weary ass through the door Saturday night, after a day in NYC I was greeted by Alice. Not exactly greeted. She was at the door ready to tear me a new one. It's a good thing she can't talk.

"I was SOOOOOO LOOOOOOOONELY!!! I could have starved! Where have you been? I've wasted away from 15 lbs. to.... well, a little over 15 lbs, okay, but I've been really lonely! Did I mention I was lonely, and I was too upset to eat a thing. Well, of course I had to have a little something, ya' know to keep my strength up so I could starve to death. I was upset okay! It's not fat, I'm bloated from malnutrition!"

You get the idea. I don't know what it is about black cats, but I've never met one that didn't talk. And Alice can run her mouth in a way that makes my mother seem laconic. So I picked her up and walked her around like a fractious infant while she kept transforming back and forth between a hairy sack of liquid and a clawed limpet that wrapped herself around me sinking her claws into my shoulder down to the scapula. All the while either bitching or purring.

It doesn't get much better.

Anyone who says that cats are too aloof, are not as affectionate as dogs, have never met Alice. She is kind of like those nightmare dates, Pay attention to me, pay attention to me, no really, I love you, now pay attention to me. If you loved me you would throw the catnip mouse across the room so we could play fetch, and you'd get some kitty treats out, and the water needs to be changed, you call this a clean cat box, uh, I don't mean to criticize but my food bowl is empty, but really, I love you.


In the past any cat that has deigned to let me live with it has been happy to have me put food in one end, empty the results out of the litter box and alternate between sleep and destroying the furniture. Not this girl. She is a full time job.

I must say though, that after 17 years of bachelorhood, it is nice to have someone happy to see me when I get home. I just wish she'd learn how to do some housework. Ya know, even if she just did the dishes.