like a boss

the zucchini, today's MVPs

Happy Canada Day!

I celebrated our nation's 144th birthday by putting some work into the beautification of the very minute percentage of her I have on loan. For the most part, this involved a great deal of weeding. Funny thing about weeds, I have a rather unorthodox policy when it comes to dealing with them. That is, if they are pretty and look as though they might serve as a parasol (or midnight snack) for beings with wings and/or pointy appendages, they get to stay. (I have always been of the opinion that dandelions are underrated.)

Case in point:

yellow oxalis

Another maintenance item I was able to take care of today was the staking of the tomato plants.

Tomato plant B (on the right) is still suffering from a case of droopy leaves. Yet, it has actual tomatoes growing on it, while plant A does not. Curious. Henrik the gnome is giving them both the thumbs up, anyhow.

I picked up the stakes at Walmart, as well as five new moss plants - Scotch, this time, to replace the Irish, which was starting to look dry and beige at the roots and just not spreading at all. I'll have to take more care with this stuff - make sure not to over-water and all that. Scott asked if I plan to feed it whiskey, and, really, that's not all that bad of an idea. Desperate times, desperate measures.

Kidding.

Oh, and these are some wild mulberries growing between our neighbour's fence and ours. Isn't it nifty how nature just does its own thing? Respect.

In conclusion, I leave you with these few parting thoughts/lessons:

1. Dear Pale Woman, No amount of diligent application and re-application of sunscreen will keep us from you. Accept that a tan and likely some sunspots are in your future. You say you have SPF 40 and a hat with a wide brim? Ha ha. It is to laugh. Sincerely, The (UV) Rays.


2. When spraying oneself with insect repellent, take great care not to neglect the bum cheeks. It should come as no surprise to know that mosquitoes have no sense of personal space. ("Oh, excuse me there. I'm famished. Might I have a drink of your blood, please?") They will not hesitate to fly up your shorts.


3. The first thing to do before driving a shovel into the ground is to check for buried power cords. (No shocks, thankfully, but a definite whoops! moment.)

a casualty

A giant in shark sandals squashed my strawberry this morning. Only the well-meaning look on his sweet face and the fact that my blood runs through his veins saved him from exile from the kingdom. No, it was an accident. He is two years old. Sometimes, when he is trying to help me, he mistakes the green pepper plants for weeds and yanks at their leaves. I won't lie, though, and say that I didn't experience feelings of disappointment and frustration as I tossed the pulverized berry out to the grass for some lucky bird. It was not my finest hour. Perhaps some Moroccan floor pillows and sunset meditation are in order?

a gramophone in the greenhouse

My seventh grade science experiment posited the question, "Does music affect the growth of plants?" Our teacher suggested we use mung beans, saying they would grow quickly and easily - both important qualities given our timeline. Thus, my long-suffering mother drove me to Bulk Barn, where we picked up what we understood to be mung beans. Whether they were mung beans or something else entirely will remain a mystery for the ages, but know that they did not grow even one bit, even after vigorous doses of August & Everything After and Much Dance Mix '93. (My beans, it seemed, did not agree with the assessment that rhythm is a dancer, and they certainly were not in the mood to jump around.) My science partner and I had to resort to established plants. One was exposed to music, and one was not. As I recall, we noted no significant difference between the growth of the two. Astonishing! Somehow, I still went on to win the science award in eighth grade, most likely for my groundbreaking comparison of the effectiveness of various laundry detergents. I expect that Nobel prize nomination to happen any day now. Anyhow, this is a whole lot of preamble leading up to a realization I made this morning on my daily garden visit: one of my tomato plants (sweet 100 hybrid tomato) is sad, and I need a hero. A hypothesis based on oh-so-reliable empirical evidence viewed by my twelve year old self that would suggest this fella is indifferent to The Beatles means that the Internet will probably have to suffice.

Symptom: drooping leaves at the very top of the plant. The bottom three quarters are healthy, and I even spotted fruit - (yes, keeping with the "scientific" theme of this post, I am putting tomatoes in the "fruit" category).

Theories:

1. blossom-end rot
2. over-watering
3. some sort of nutrient imbalance in the soil

Thoughts: Further observation is required to determine whether #1 is the problem. I have not seen any of the lesions described on the referenced page on any of the leaves. Mostly, the leaves just look depressed or tired, like they have had a rough go of things and need a cocktail or two and a Gossip Girl marathon. #2 and #3 seem unlikely, given that both tomato plants have received the same treatment, and only one is struggling.

Here's the plan: Switch from a daily to a once or twice a week watering schedule. Administer milk and water solution via spray bottle weekly. Research, bookmark, wait, and watch.

A more cheerful customer in region 1 is my strawberry plant.

Finally, I went on a mission to Home Depot the other night to obtain a shepherd's hook and hanging basket for the still far too bare spot at the front of our house (where a giant bug-magnet of a shrub once stood). My secret fear of being impaled by large unsecured objects whilst driving was alive and well as I transported my purchases to the gym and then home, but I am happy to report that there were no freak accidents. Yes, I am still as unhole-y as ever.

impatiens, my friends.