The cat is at the vet today. Is she happy about it? Let’s just say that we should have worn earplugs in the car, and that the vet had the knock-out box ready to go as soon as we got there.
With any luck this should be a pretty straightforward visit, although it’s been some time since Neko’s last checkup so anything’s possible. She’s not the easiest of patients (hence the full-on anesthesia). She’s also an older monster cat who is having trouble with arthritis and teeth and feet, so we’re hoping the vet can help us make her life a bit easier.
(Actually, we’re mostly hoping the cat doesn’t decide to eat us when she gets home. We had to pull her food last night to prep for the anesthesia and she woke us up three times to remind us of that fact. She was really hungry this morning, so tasty delicious human fingers crossed!)
One of our neighbors has a decades-old grape vine that is both enthusiastic and agile, and it has branched out to surround our shared yards, three fences, and at least two trees. It is also a prolific producer of grapes. Wildlife like them, but sometimes too much. Last year we were a hit with wasps, which I could have done without.
I should have used a higher grape-to-water ratio, but didn’t want to waste the fruit if the recipe was a dud. The juice is just about sweet enough to drink straight and tastes of minerals and a fall afternoon. I suspect these grapes would make fantastic wine.
Have I discovered one of the long-lost vines behind the prized vintages of the Elven Court in Exile?
Thanks to the dynamics of heat, humidity, and Tropical Storm Fred muscling his way up the East Coast, most of my family members down South were under a tornado warning today.
My father texted to say that they were in the basement because tornado. Cue a round of frantic texting to make sure my hard-of-hearing mother had, in fact, heard the warning. Half an hour later the danger had passed and thankfully, everyone was ok.
Those of you living in places like Tornado Alley, the Caribbean, tsunami-prone coastal region, anywhere currently under a fire warning or similar hot spot may not be impressed, but this is one of the first times my family has had to head to the basement for safety, hunkering down like Neolithic ancestors in caves. I doubt it will be the last. Extreme weather and other such events are on the rise. That’s the bad news.
The good news is that unlike our ancestors, we have first responders, health care workers, disaster preparedness centers, and we can see it coming.
The Joe Pye Weed is in full bloom and buzzing with big bees, small bees and not-bees, and look who stopped by!
I only wish we had the space and sun for a dozen more of these plants, plus scads of milkweed for this monarch and all of its friends. Until then, I’ll do what I can with what I have.
Today in things I like: Here’s an item I did not know existed before I moved to Canada: the electronic mosquito swatter.
The Zapper
You may know that mosquitoes are annoying;) This year has been pretty good* but even one mosquito indoors at night can be disruptive. (If you’re me, anyway. Mr. Man is born and bred Canadian and is mostly unfazed by even the largest of blood suckers. )
And I’m trying to be more tolerant outside. Inside? No.
Cue the swatter. Its mesh displaces less air than a standard fly swatter and also sends a current through the wires. Any mosquito or other biting insect caught in the layers is toast. Sometimes literally.
Seriously, don’t activate this thing while touching it.
Zip zap, all done.
As penance, I put the mosquito corpses outside so that something, somewhere might benefit.
* That’s good and bad. Good, because it means fewer giant, itchy welts, bad because the dry Spring that led to fewer mosquitoes has a lot of follow-on effects, for insects, the birds and other animals who eat them, plants, trees, and of course, us humans.
We picked up a bunch of native plants from a local eco organization and added them to the garden over the weekend. To go along with existing pollinator plants like butterfly weed, chives, and Joe Pye Weed, I am now the proud owner of flowers like wild bergamot, yellow tickseed, and black-eyed Susan.
Also approximately one million extremely itchy bug bites, and as anyone who knows me knows, I really hate mosquitoes.
But.
Birds and butterflies and pollinators in general need food and shelter. These plants will live outdoors and I had to get them moved into their new homes; the mosquitoes just took advantage of my helpful nature. (Also my delicious blood.)
So both arms are itchier than I’d like, plus I have a row of awkwardly-placed extra bumps on my spine (particularly fun) and what I’m pretty sure is a spider bite on my wrist, which is now extra red, itchy and swollen.
Yesterday I took a brief break to check on my butterfly weed (blooming happily!) and noticed an interesting beetle by the door.
“Ooh,” I asked myself, “could that be a firefly?”
It could. It was.
Last night, between brightly-colored expressions of Canadian joy (aka celebratory fireworks), we spotted brightly-colored expressions of firefly joy above the cedar hedge. The lone Lampyridae had a hard time competing, but he gave it his best shot.
* * *
I have great memories of family nights outside in the garden when I was a kid, watching hundreds of fireflies looking for love. It was magic.
We don’t have hundreds now, but I’m working to make our yard as firefly-friendly as I can, particularly around mating season (aka now). Here’s how:
You must be logged in to post a comment.