Sunday, 12 May 2024

That Ounce of Prevention

 

The daffodil bed around 2009

The hummers are here! The day I put the feeder up, having been prompted by several Facebook memory posts, we saw at least one male and one female. Skittish, as they are when they first arrive. Because there may be two males, I am going to put a second feeder on the other side of the house. An ounce of prevention of hummer wars.

And speaking of prevention. A while back I got a very formal letter from the Ford Motor Company, warning me that there was something that might be amiss with the engine of my 2020 Escape. If I were to hear an unusual noise, the letter advised me, or see smoke coming from under the hood, I should pull over to the side of the road immediately and turn off the engine. The letter also said that a repair for this was in the works and I would be notified when it was available. The letter said nothing about leaping out of the vehicle and running like a rabbit, subsequent to the noise/smoke. I filed the letter under C for ‘car’ and, frankly, forgot about it. I got another letter today saying the fix is available and reminding me to make an appointment with my dealer to have it done. I now have the fix scheduled for next week and I do most earnestly hope there is no strange noise or smoke in the interim.

Daffodil bed after the re-edit. 2010

My phone rang Friday morning and when I answered it, a sad voice said ‘Hi, it’s me’. YD me. Well, more incensed than sad. She had just had the second bike in a very short time stolen from her, this one her pet and favourite. And the robbery was a fast cut-off of her lock while she was in a store right beside the bike rack. She has reported both of these and is now going to have to persuade her insurance company to provide money to replace them. I gather that bike heists are pretty common where she is. Well, pretty well everywhere. Saddening and maddening.

Friday night I clumped out onto the deck and was rewarded with streamers of pale pink in the northern sky. We are surrounded by trees, nowhere more so than on the north side, but the light rays reached up almost to the apex of the sky dome and were a lovely thing to relish.

Saturday was cloudy and not overly warm, but a thing to relish was a late afternoon visit by either six turkeys or three turkeys twice, four deer and a solitary and scruffy raccoon. The deer munched along what used to be a wildflower garden along the grass at the kitchen end of the house, but although one doe did sniff at a daffodil, the clump survived intact. I am not sure about the trilliums.

Opened out and blooming - the daffodil bed

The daffs mostly do survive. I have a daffodil bed on the field side of the house, but it is so overgrown that it produced few flowers this year. And there is no way I can rescue it, other than to hire someone to do it for me. The YD has offered, but gardening is not her thing and reducing this bed will be a last labour of Herculean proportions. JG and I last redug it in 2012 or 2013. The daffs that are doing well are growing from bulbs given me in bloom as, probably, Easter or birthday gifts. I unpotted and planted several under the lilac bushes or in the unmowed verge of the lawn. They are thriving. The carefully curated bed is not. It was also a mistake to try to get iris to coexist with the earlier spring bulbs.

Iris competing with the done daffs

The frustrating thing about old age and chronic medical problems is that the jobs that used to be easy are difficult or, in a lot of cases, impossible. But … they are all still there.

Postscriptum. Just did the review and spellcheck does not like what I think of as reversal verbs – adding ‘un’ to show the negative. Some are classic, such as ‘unmarried’, and ‘unloved’, but as for ‘unmowed’, not allowable.  Mind you, spellcheck does not like ‘spellcheck’ either if it is Uppercased.  Grammarly corrections are many, mostly specious. Hah!!!


7 comments:

  1. It's true about jobs. They remain the same, but we don't. I've done some mowing and puttering today after grocery shopping, and now I am done in more ways than one.

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    Replies
    1. You share the "done" with JG who, after cooking me a Mother's Day Treat for lunch, slogged off to pick up debris from our large mowed area. He is wiped. And I am sad because I used to do this stuff and now I cannot.

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  2. So much to be done around the house this spring yet no interest or inclination to do it. Maybe some of it won’t be done!

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  3. A whole bed of daffodils! What luxury.

    I get unreasonably angry when faced with limitations. Why can't I carry the metal porch chairs up from the basement anymore? I used to do that all the time! Sigh. In my head I'm still in my thirties. Or forties or fifties, even.

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    Replies
    1. I find it very hard to let go. The daff bed should be dismantled and the bulbs given to active gardeners. I have told myself this for several years and done nothing to make it happen. Maybe you should (shuddering at the price) buy lighter porch chairs? Before you become a stubborn old misery like me who wants her accustomed porch chairs, even when one breaks.

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  4. My hospice client has been upset about his limitations. I feel so badly for him. It is tough again.

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    Replies
    1. Yes. We get upset and cantankerous and pitiful. That is old age. And congrats to you for doing hospice. A great service.

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