Stay off the couch - fortress edition

Contrary to common sense and amongst other vigorous protests from my aching back and joints, I bathe Rascal and Nellie myself. The blow dry portion of the grooming session is achieved by walking them on our bright sunny afternoon. Long suffering partner takes Rascal while I wrangle Nellie's bath; I take Nellie after I have changed into dry clothes and will not scandalize the neighborhood. (Yes, I get as wet as they do). 

On bath day, we also do a full laundry of all dog bedding, towels, and other doggie equipment like leashes, harnesses, collars and the like. We have a couch, which, before my entirely ill conceived lapse in judgment allowing dogs to sleep on it, was a lovely addition to the living room. It is an ivory raw silk couch which must be protected from the grime of two dogs determined to bring in the outside every time they go for walks or sojourns in the backyard. As a a result, we now have four layers of protection against the normal dirt and any potential accidents that may occur. That said, washing everything is a major event and it is nice to keep it clean until AFTER their baths. In order to achieve that protection, I move chairs and the coffee table around it and smugly walk away secure in the knowledge I have outsmarted the pups. 

Yeah...that was my mistake. After the laundry (done while Rascal was out on his morning trek) I reassembled all the protective layers onto the couch. Then  the cleverly created a fortress against doggie incursions in place, I went about other chores that required attention, only to come back to this:

I can accept defeat, but the smug look on his face? That's just mean.

One more door for your consideration

Again with the architectural detail. This door intrigued me because it had several interesting features that are not common. It apparently leads to a courtyard and the attention to detail for the homeowner is already evident in the curved iron fence along the driveway, leading to the stairs. I mean, who would think to curve their driveway when it's a straight shot to the street? Genius. But I digress. The door is wooden, which normally wouldn't catch my eye, but, and here's the thing, it is arched (and we know how I love arches), banded with iron, and most fetchingly, covered with a small tile roof. The whole scenario makes me think of entering an enchanted land, or at the very least, something in an exotic locale.

To Fairy or Not to Fairy - that is the question

One of the streets in the neighborhood is known for its multiple fairy gardens. That led to a proliferation of attempts on other streets as well, some better than others. I have mixed feelings about the whole fairy garden trope. On the one hand, they can be both amusing and engaging, as the gnome in front of his door at the base of a tree certainly is.

If they are well kept and use natural, ceramic, or metal decorations (no plastic), at least they hold up well in weather and are fairly easy to keep up.

Some are quite clever in their design, evoking whole villages that are easy to visualize as little communities. Now here's where I'm gonna get labelled looney tunes. I'm not a big fan of nailing things into living trees. I know theoretically it does no damage to the tree, but do we really know that? After all, our study of creatures other than ourselves has been wanting on many levels, mostly due to our human-centric biases. Other than looking at trees as future buildings and industrial materials, what do we really know about them? Inquiring minds want answers.

Then there are the displays that started out clever and well cared for, and are slowly disintegrating. (Again with the nailing things to the tree).

 Or the whole letting the 3 year old put together something and then ignore it forever after so it is basically trash.

I think ultimately I prefer decorations like the pinwheel and flowers below. Easy to maintain, highly visible, and simple.

Mow, blow, and go away!!!

People who hire gardeners are lucky they don't have to deal with the messy hard labor of keeping up appearances in their yards. Of course, in general, those are people who have lawns, a few shrubs, and trees that drop leaves. Cue the mow, blow, and go guys.

Our City wisely adopted a ban on gas leaf blowers that went into effect over a year ago. Electric blowers only. Quieter. Less pollution. Good benefits indeed. The City even provided help for gardeners with obtaining the new equipment. Sounds well thought out and doable. Yeah...not so much.

What the City unwisely decided to do, was no longer hold the person employing said gardeners with upholding the new ruling. Doesn't take too many guesses to know how that turned out. Gardeners felt it was too much trouble or expense, other cities have not banned gas blowers, and why change what works for them, right? When asked, a couple of the gardeners in the 'hood said that it took too many batteries to get through the day and the blowers weren't strong enough. (Side note: my electric blower is plenty strong enough). The gardeners have a good point about the batteries not giving them enough juice to do all their jobs. So what to do about that?

Naturally I have the answer. If someone is rich enough to hire someone, then they can provide either the entire blower with a fully charged battery every time their worker shows up OR, they can simply have fully charged batteries available the model owned by the gardener if they don't want to purchase the whole tool. They can put the equipment in a secure place for the gardener to access when they begin work. It reduces expenses for both parties and it confirms compliance with the law. (Side note: won't happen). I get why raking and sweeping is not viable for those who have multiple clients per day. But having a gas blower that only creates a hurricane of dust, fumes, and noise that sounds like jet planes taking off, is truly not a good choice for the planet.

The other problem with the whole mow, blow, and go concept is all the mowing. If a gardener is retained weekly, that means the lawn (which in SoCal is a big water waster) is mowed weekly. What's wrong with that? Lawns that are cut short enough to play a game of pool (billiards) are hotter and don't retain water well. As a result, they need to be watered more frequently and never look as lush and green as people expect. In fact, in the summer they just look sad.

And don't get me started on weed whacking. Used carelessly around the base of trees it causes damage. Weed whackers don't solve the problem of certain weeds that should be pulled out by the roots, like foxtails, which are so dangerous to pets and other animals. It simply spreads the whacked seeds around.

OK -- enough ranting for one day. Though I will point out that the name of this blog is CRANKY little old lady, which means, yes, there will be rants from time to time.

You looking at me?

Walking down a street Nellie and I visit almost every day, I suddenly caught something out of the corner of my eye and it startled me. I felt like someone was staring at us and, yes, I was right. But this time it was no dog on the loose,  or a cheeky squirrel, or a parrot prepared to throws seeds from above. This time, it was the actual face of a tree. I've always felt that trees are very aware and far more sentient than humans want to believe. Now, there's proof.

Golden Girls and loose pups

I have the great fortune of belonging to a group of women who make the world go 'round. OK, maybe not the whole world, but they are responsible for raising funds for the Library by volunteering to staff the bookstore and holding bi-annual book sales. The lead volunteer is the Divine Ms. M, about whom I have had nothing but glowing words for her generosity and good impact on the community. She's the one who decided that since the Library has shown little to no interest in their volunteers since COVID, she has taken it upon herself to offer them a chance to meet, discuss what needs to be discussed, and have a good time too. I have been included, not because I in any way volunteer, but back in the day, part of my job was Volunteer Coordinator. Once a month we meet at Panera and the conversations are lively and frankly pretty astounding. 

I call us the Golden Girls because we're all retired. A couple have left the medical field after many years of service. One was a professor. Another, a teacher, and another, wonder of wonders, a school librarian. Funny how librarians cannot stay away for long. A couple of our group are heavily invested in animal rescue and I don't mean the odd catching of loose dogs. They belong to genuine rescue groups and foster multiple critters until they are adopted. In some cases, they just end up keeping them for life. In other words, so many different interests and backgrounds. Not to mention, the lunches are good too.

Now, being of a certain age range, naturally some of the discussion is around our various aches and pains. Woe betide the person who mentions some ailment and then doesn't follow the advice of one who has had said ailment and had it treated. We are expected to report back the following month with proof we are moving toward resolution. But mostly we just share ways to deal with getting older and creakier and move on. I confess to being addicted to it all. 

This month's lunch was no different. Lively conversation, some learning, and naturally some sharing of ailments. We parted feeling uplifted.

Driving home, I spotted a loose little dog. Are we seeing a pattern here? Am I manifesting loose dogs? Anyway, I pulled over and tried to tempt the dog to come to me. She wasn't having it and ran back across the street. A busy street. A woman walking her Shiba Inu called over and said that the dog lived at the house she ran to, and the people let her out all the time. I asked if they were trying to kill their dog. The woman agreed that she didn't like what they were doing either, thanked me for at least stopping and trying to help, and went on her way. As did I. It bothered me all the way home that someone could be so callously careless of their dog's life. 

It wasn't the best ending to an enjoyable outing, but that's life for you.

Just when you think your yard cleanup is going well

If we have a big wind storm, naturally we stalk the property looking for fallen tree limbs and other damage, but it is utterly unexpected when there has been perfectly reasonable weather and no warning signs of impending doom. Imagine our surprise when walking into our backyard to find a huge tree limb had cracked off a perfectly healthy Carob. Fortunately, in fell inside the fence, and not onto the sidewalk where it could've severely injured someone. All I can think is that the tree wasn't happy with my very aggressive weeding efforts the day before and decided to show it's wrath. No wait -- that doesn't make sense. Why would the tree do damage to itself? Oh well, just another mess.

 

The cracked limb needed surgical attention since those types of injuries attract insect activity, disease, and rot. It's a simple fix in that the cracked portion needs to be cut back cleanly at a joint, but no -- not climbing up there to do it. I called the experts and thankfully our tree will be feeling much better.

One very positive note on this adventure: our go-to tree guy came the same afternoon I called about it and took care of it for an incredibly good price. Then he noticed some issues I hadn't cottoned on to, and wisely so. Trees are something I absolutely encourage and love. But boy are they headaches in terms of proper care. But better that than dead trees or injured creatures from broken, falling boughs.

Quoth the Raven, SAVE MY BABY

Wednesday was a rare day indeed. First thing in the morning was enticing loose little doggie Sky back home. Well, enticing is hardly the word. She was so anxious to snuggle, she would've followed me anywhere. But I digress. I went about a boring day until our evening walk with K and Nick, which is always fun, instructive, and of late, exciting. That's when we encountered the second drama of the day.

A pair of Ravens were clearly in panic mode. They were cawing in distress and a couple of concerned people were standing there looking up at them. K immediately asked what was going on and the bystanders said that the Raven fledgling had landed behind a garage and the parents didn't know where and were panicking. Naturally, my immediate thought was - well, if you know where the baby is, why aren't you doing something about it. That snarky thought I wisely kept to myself. Instead, K and I asked where the fledgling was and we went to check it out. 

K wrangled Nellie and Nick (no small task) while I blatantly trespassed to get to the very narrow alley where the bird was spotted. It took me sucking my gut in to get past waste bins and other items, looking in between the fence and the concrete border, to finally spot the baby. She didn't seem injured, so that was a plus. But she clearly was stressed. By then, the homeowner came out to see why I was prowling around and had attracted so many onlookers. A quick explanation and request for a towel brought an instant smile and action. 

Luckily I was able to catch the baby with ease and carried her out to the large open area which is the neighbor's yard, whereupon I released her. Mom and Pop finally figured out where she was, kept swooping in to give her food, and she kept trying to get aloft. 

Now I wish I had a complete ending to this story, but we all felt it best to decamp and let nature get on with it. I confess, it drives me a bit bonkers not knowing a final outcome, but we did the best we can do.

And here is our baby:

Quick note:  Too many people still believe the misinformation that handling a bird results in the parents kicking them to the curb because they have the smell of human on them. Yes, there are animals who will not touch their young if there has been human intervention, though that is rare. Birds, on the other hand, are not noted for their sense of smell, and have no qualms about getting all the help they can get. They happily accept chicks that have fallen out of the nest. So if you see a very small chick that is too young to fly, and you can see the nest, don't be afraid to tuck the chick back in. Mom and Pop will thank you for it by not pooping on your car for a week. OK - I made the last part up. But you get the idea.

 

Another day, another dog rescue

Frankly, I was looking forward to a rather blah day. Some dusting, a few phone calls, checking in on Elvis, the hunka hunka burning love next door (a dog for those of you getting a bit too excited). Just strolling out in the garden to dump the bucket of shower water we collect waiting for it to heat up, when a doggie caught my eye. A dog I knew, out without a person, looking perplexed and a bit scared. Bucket goes to the ground and I call out "Chase. Sweetie, come here." Lo and behold, zero hesitation, just instant joy at being called. Practically jumped into my arms. 

Called out to long suffering partner to grab the slip lead and put it on the wiggly dog in my arms. Lead is on and off we go a full three houses down the street. The car in the driveway was revving up and the grandpa was coming out of the gate with a collar and leash in hand, looking frantic. He looks up and sees me. Grandma gets out of the car and can barely believe her eyes. The look of relief was gratifying. Sky, they say. Where was she? I explained and they took over. They were baffled how she got out and were going to check the entire fenced area for escape points. They were effusive in their thanks. All's well that ends well.

OK -- two things: Sky must not know her name, (I can't tell the two dogs apart) or she didn't care that I called for her brother because she was so happy to have a person to connect with. What is more interesting is that though I always talk to them as we walk by every day, I've never been close enough to pet them or tell them apart. I purposely talk to dogs behind their fences or out with their people on walkies. just for this scenario. They tend to trust me enough to go back into their yards if they are out, or come to me. 

Secondly, her people, unlike the people who have been neglectful with Patrón and Lucky, the two dogs we rescued last week, are tremendously responsible and caring. This was a first in all the years they have had their dogs. I'm just happy it went so smoothly and quickly.

So, back to my boring day until rescue number two. And this time, it wasn't a dog. Stay tuned.

Last ones for this year - I swear

Those things my garden refuses to allow in and thrive still have a place in my heart as I walk by other gardens. Today's top selection is a trumpet vine, happily covering a fence and blooming like crazy:

Not to be outdone is another vine that has a name but won't tell it to me, that also neatly covers the chain link fence, which face it, is not that attractive. The fence, not the plant. The plant is gorgeous.

Now, you're thinking I'm just too lazy to look this up on Google to find names for all the things I don't know. You are correct. Even if I did manage to identify them, it'd be out of my head in a nanosecond. The only names I remember past the first block upon introductions are dog's names. Every once in a while, their people's names will stick too, but that's rare. And before you worry about my mental state - no - I don't have dementia - yet. Just an overactive lazy gene.

The Hate U Give

I'm gonna out myself a bit, and mention that as a retired librarian I always hated being asked for book recommendations on the job. Unless, of course, they were interested in mysteries, Sci-Fi/fantasy, or how-to books. FYI: Anything in the For Dummies series is good if you need help with a skill. YouTube is great, but sometimes the books have insights videos miss.

Every now and then, though, a book comes along that is truly remarkable. I've already posted about Lessons in Chemistry as being one such remarkable book. 

Today's selection is The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas. At first I admittedly was reluctant to read it. I expected it to be a bit on the pop-culture side and since it was made into a movie very quickly after it was published, I'm ashamed to say I was rather dismissive. Didn't see the movie either. Well, I was soooooo wrong.

Ms. Thomas's book is thoughtful, insightful, and made me take a hard look into any prejudices that may be lurking deep inside. As someone who grew up in multiple multi-cultural environments, I congratulated myself on being accepting of all humans on the planet. After spending time in the Southeastern portion of the U.S. and seeing firsthand the irrational racism that existed quite openly there, I thought I knew what all the problems were and how to combat them with courtesy, thoughtfulness, and an honest attempt at understanding. This book made me take a far deeper look.

I urge all to read the book and see if it opens up anything for you. 

 

Arches are not all the same

Architecture is a particular fascination as anyone who has listened to me blather on knows. Arches are a way to lift up a room, a facade, a feeling. This house is a perfect example. Imagine the porch as a rectangle -- all hard edges and straight lines. Even with the nice brickwork, it would be boring and not noteworthy. Not to mention it would make this one story house look squat. The arches, on the other hand, add style and uplift the porch to be taller and more open.

These arches do the same thing to give a sense of height to a one story house. The big difference is the airiness and brightness of the design. The arches themselves are narrower and higher. Instead of brickwork, they chose clean arches with an interesting tile pattern as the trim, giving it an artistic vibe. Yes, those lines are tile. So, which one do you think I would like better? Of course you guessed it -- the tile. There was never any question.

 

Vermi what now?

Vermiculture composting is simply a fancy way of saying you have a worm bin filled with red wrigglers who break down food scraps and produce worm castings, which is another fancy way of saying worm poop. It is highly prized by gardeners because it is seriously rich in everything your plants need and amends even the worst soil. Now, most sane people in the world have their worm bins outside in a shed or garage. Naturally, in case you haven't caught on, my sanity is in question. I am probably the only human on the planet that has her worm bin in the walk in shower of the second bathroom. (Not necessarily recommended, but it works for me).

Now, when you set up a worm bin, it is common to use coconut coir as the bedding for the worms. It must feel like a well wrung out sponge as the worms need damp, but not sopping wet homes. The top two levels are filled with the coconut coir; the bottom level is for capturing worm tea -- another fancy term for worm pee. Which is liquid gold and caught in the pot beneath the spigot. 

After the bin is set up and the worms have been doing their thing for a while, you can add shredded paper to fluff up the bins and soak up any excess water. Hence the basket holding the shredded paper to the left of the bin. Caution -- only use paper that is black ink on white. Colored ink can be poisonous and you don't want to kill off your worm colony.

For table/cooking scraps, we have a small crock on the counter top and when it's full, it goes into the compost tumbler (the thing on the right). It only takes a few weeks to make great nutritious soil. Instead of spreading it around immediately, I put it into the bin to the left and let it marinade some more. It may also get mixed into the big bin in the back (see below).

My friend K was instrumental in helping me cobble together the pallet compost bin for all the leaves we have around our yard. Now the recipe for compost is 2/3 brown (like leaves) and 1/3 green. That's where it got dicey. I have no lawn to mow and if food scraps go in, so do the rats. What to do? Well, I've mentioned several times that we have an incredible neighborhood of helpful, generous souls. My next door neighbor, M, kindly agreed to save his grass cuttings for my bin. It works like a charm. You can't really tell, but the big heap on the left is compost ready to be spread; the small pile on the right is all grass clippings. As soon as the big pile is moved out, more leaves will be added, and then the cooking will begin anew.

If you're wondering why I'm doing this, let's just say being a dotty old bat who cares about the planet isn't such a bad way to spend some time.

Dotty, Bruce, and Roger

The other day, when our neighborhood rallied to rescue the two dogs running loose, it was these charmers who were holding us in thrall with their cuteness before the drama. Meet Dotty and Roger, two Cockapoos who at first were questioning our right to pass their house and then immediately melted upon receiving pets and treats (works every time).

Let's not forget Bruce, who was immediately accepting of our attention and actually couldn't get enough of it. He's an adorable Frenchie who probably should be on a magazine cover.

BTW: Their people, M and C, are super nice too. Just the people we like to have in the 'hood. M was the one who gave us the spare leash so we could get the two loose dogs home. If you're asking why he only handed us one leash when there were two dogs to wrangle, it's simple. I'm the crazy lady who packs a small bag with supplies for dog walkies as if I'm trekking through the Outback. So naturally I have a slip lead that is a permanent fixture in my bag for just such rescue demands. In answer to your unspoken question, yes, it has come in handy a number of times. So there. Not so crazy after all.

 

Arrrrrgh!

I can't tell you the number of years I've tried to grow bougainvillea. The vibrant color, the ability to climb and beautify walls, the thorns to keep intruders at bay. Every time I think I've got it sorted, the big nothing happens. Either the plants remain the same small size they started from the pot, or they grow for a bit and then just decide to call it quits. I can only dream to have something like the GIANT bushes in front of this house. Well, at least, they are there to be appreciated and admired. Dang it.

On the other hand, I've never tried to grow lovely ornamental trees because I know that failure rate would be 100%. Fortunately I don't have to as other gardeners have succeeded all too well. Have no clue what this is other than gorgeous. And to throw this out there, just because I would never wear pink or buy anything pink, it doesn't mean nature doesn't do a very good job at displaying it beautifully.

Whimsey

One of the fun things in the neighborhood are the whimsical decorations people put out into their gardens. Yes, there are plenty of the standard pink flamingos, and frankly, they are usually displayed in a standard, clichéd manner. Nellie and I demand higher art than that.

One house started a Halloween tradition of having a large snake skeleton (fake of course) in front. Originally, it was unadorned and frankly looked quite lifelike. After a few helpful comments from passersby (yup - me), they started to up the ante and add other skeletons and accessories to their display. At Halloween, it's quite the sight. They decided to keep the snake year round and with a little nudging, decorations have gone seasonal. Summer is approaching, and they felt their snake would benefit from natty sunglasses. I'm glad to see they are mindful of her health. Mmmm. That's right, we need to name her!

Some take a more classic approach and this is one charming example. A boy and his ball. Given the outfit, it looks like an early twentieth century child.

Decorations don't have to be confined to the ground. These butterflies affixed to a large palm add some bright delight to the blossoms below.

If you're wondering why there is a big metal band near the base of the palm, it's to keep squirrels from going up and nesting in the fronds.

Cows and goats in town

Just a guess, but it seems highly unlikely you would be seeing cows in a neighbor's front yard if you don't live in a town of a rural nature. Yet, here we are. These are Scottish mini cows happily grazing in a front yard that is decidedly not a farm. They are endearingly sweet.

I'm certainly not opposed to allowing larger animals to reside in suburban settings. After all, when the mini pig craze hit, many town codes were changed to accommodate them. It is imperative, though, they are housed properly, have adequate space, and proper feeding grounds and diets. All too often, the thrill of having such animals means overlooking what is truly best for them.

Adding to the menagerie is an 8 week old goat named DJ. Alas, poor DJ had some tummy issues and wasn't feeling great that day, but with some Fortiflora from a neighbor, is feeling better now.

Again, and I can't stress this enough, these animals need much more than a dog or a cat for accommodations, so don't go thinking they are so cute you want one.

Storybook houses

Every time I walk by this house, I think it belongs in a fairy tale. It's a small cottage and the roof has lichen or some other vegetation growing on it. It's small and cozy and oh so charming. 

This house, a completely different style in every way, also conjured up a fairytale style, mostly because of the beautiful climbing bush arch over the gate. The bit of gingerbread trim on the gables adds to the story feel.

Our area has such a great hodgepodge of architectural styles, including  Craftsman, Adobe, Mediterranean, Colonial, and Tudor. It is extremely rare to encounter something ho-hum, which is why it is so much fun to walk around. That and meeting up with people walking playful pups, of course.

 

A bad situation with a happy ending

Picture this--three men following two loose dogs coming down the street. You might think you know where this is going, but wait for it....

Some people shouldn't be allowed to have dogs (explained later). Case in point -- tonight's adventure could have turned out very badly. It didn't because the neighborhood rallies to help those in need, even if they have four legs and can't speak a human language. To begin at the beginning:

K, Nick, Nellie and I were meeting a wonderful new neighbor M, who has three adorable pups, Bruce, Dotty and Roger. As we were grilling M as to why he moved here from New York City (the weather of course), and were getting acquainted, suddenly two dogs appeared running toward us. Three men were calling to us to ask if we knew who the dogs were and where they belonged. As luck would have it, I was well acquainted with Patrón, the sweet, young, energetic Doberman, and Lucky, the snuggly, elderly Shepherd. I had the pleasure of their company in my backyard a couple of years ago after we managed to corral them when they were loose on my street. 

I called to Lucky and was able to convince him to come toward our group. K took Nellie and Nick out of the fray to minimize distraction since Patrón is a young unneutered male who can be a bit frisky. I always carry a slip lead with me when I'm out with my dogs and was able to leash Patrón quickly, but needed another lead for Lucky. Fortunately, M provided one immediately. Now here's where it gets super good. I walk with a cane and it was clear that handling two dogs for the rather long haul to their home was a no go. K was already dealing with Nick and Nellie. That's where one of the trio of guys who were concerned about the dogs stepped in. A and his five year old son decided to make it an adventure, and A took Patrón in hand while I took Lucky. 

Another twist. A was ahead with Patrón, but Patrón would stop and not move until Lucky caught up. As both Lucky and I are gimpy, he was mercifully slow, so Patrón kept a close eye on our progress. That was utterly unexpected and so endearing. Meanwhile, F, the five year old, and I were having a full on conversation about Lego Star Wars. Well, realistically, F did all the talking and I only interjected with encouraging words to keep him going. It was delightfully entertaining and kept me moving along at, what for me, was a fast clip.

Finally we made made it to their home to find the gate wide open. Pounded on the front door - no response. Just as we were about to start going around to the back house, a car pulled up, the people got out, and took the dogs in hand. I couldn't tell if they were out looking for their dogs or they just happened to come home. All they said was thank you and nothing else. No evidence of concern. In fact, they were a bit curt. I've had issues with them for how they treated Lucky in the past (not confrontational, just the stink-eye as we walked by), and I guess they have learned nothing since then. Dogs unneutered, unlicensed, and roaming around? Also, this was the second escape in two weeks. Not a good scenario. As I said, some people shouldn't be allowed to have dogs.

We said our goodbyes and headed back to return the leash to M and rejoin our dog party, when M comes running up to us with a small gift for both A and me. What? Why? Because we rescued the dogs. I nearly cried that a brand new neighbor, a neighbor I've waved to but never really knew, and his son, were so thoughtful and kind. This is what makes this neighborhood special. Now I have to go bake some brownies to take to M, A, and F just so I'm not outdone in the kindness department!

Another special friend

Quincy is an elderly Labrador whose people have set up a comfy bed on the front porch so he can snooze in the fresh air. I would say that he's also keeping an eye on what's going on in front of the house, but that would be a lie. Quincy, bless him, is very hard of hearing and not so good in the eyesight department either. As with all talented dogs though, when he's close enough, he knows who has treats by smell. 

Labradors have the reputation for being calm and amazingly sweet, which is why they are selected as service dogs and emotional support dogs all the time. Quincy certainly fills the bill.

BTW:  Even if Quincy didn't live there, The house is worth a photo anyway. The design is simple and elegant.

Don't ask me what it is about doors

To me, architectural details are like catnip. The latest fixation is doors -- usually screen doors. The designs on them must meet strict criteria. First and foremost, do they match the style of the house or are they just thrown up there? Next for consideration, is the design done in a fetching manner or just a boring cliché? Last, and certainly to my mind, are they translatable to a mosaic design? The last is probably the most important even though realistically the mosaic will never materialize. 

Full disclosure:  I make it a habit NOT to trespass to get better pictures, so you'll have to click on the photos to make them larger to see detail. That said, let's move on....

This craftsman style house has seen a bit of a metamorphosis since it was purchased fairly recently. There is one enduring feature from the original inhabitants, however, and that is the sunburst wood and screen door. While sun motifs are in no way unusual, this one is striking because of the materials used and going up the door and not to the side.

Occasionally an actual front door will present some design element that is less ho-hum than the normal plain wood or wood and glass combo. This one stands out in its simplicity and complexity at the same time. Half circles intersecting should be no big deal, but the textured glass gives it more depth.

OK - admittedly hard to capture the true pattern of the security screen. Very geometric, but intricate none the less. Add that to the (wait for it) tile porch, and it's a winner.

This screen door is a particular favorite because that's an immediate and automatic mosaic design in the making. In fact, given the scrolling on my front wall, I think you can see where this is a done deal (in a year or ten).

This door is just classy. Double door with nice arch (a particular fondness), and curved stairs picking up on the arch motif. Curlicues to boot.

And today's last selection is not particularly elegant, but somehow the simple utility of the design appealed to me. That and the wonderful busts on the landing. Of course the steps and landing should be tiled with beautiful cobalt blue accents to match the house, but then who made me the arbiter of good taste? No one, that's who. But still -- tile the doggone porch and steps!

More plastic

I've mentioned artificial turf a couple of times as being a very bad idea. Let's repeat that -- a very bad idea. And here's another very bad idea -- weed barrier cloth, otherwise known as landscape fabric. Most of these fabrics are plastic or fiberglass, both of which are truly not good for the planet. In spite of all the hype around them, they ultimately do little to deter weeds. No amount of mulch on top prevents their decomposition. Over time they simply degrade and more plastic goes into the soil, air, and water. In other words, they end up looking like this mess.

What's worse are the people who put down actual black plastic, initially to kill the weeds, but then, instead of taking the plastic off, it's left there and mulched over. How do they think water will get to the soil when it rains? Hint: it doesn't. What do they think happens to the plastic? Do they think it lasts forever and won't break up into tiny plastic bits? Or worse, do they just not care?

A better method for initial weed control is either newspaper (preferably only black and white print) or cardboard. Gotta warn you though, even those methods, which are at least eco-friendly, will still give you weeds after a year or two. So, the bad news is, weeding by pulling up the unwanted messy plants is the only method that works. At least for a hot minute.

OK -- lecture over and out.

Looks like blight but is actually very special

Cactus can look like it's diseased with these strange white lumps growing on their leaves. While it probably isn't great for the plant, those lumps are actually a very special insect called cochineal. What makes them special is that they are a natural dyers dream. Cochineal is used for a particularly rich red dye. It isn't an easy process, but the results are magical. At one time in my checkered past, I did quite bit of natural dyeing of the wool I spun by on my spinning wheel. Cochineal wasn't an option at the time, so marigolds were my favorite go to for a rich yellow-orange hue. Even if cochineal had been available to harvest, my natural reluctance to do more than absolutely necessary to get results would have precluded any attempts. As mentioned, cochineal harvest and processing is very complicated. So next time you pass a cactus that is covered with what looks like goo, bow down before it.

 

Four pounds of pure cute

She's tiny but mighty and one of Nellie's gangsta' gang. Her name is Griffey and believe it or not, she does have the cutest pointy ears that stick straight up when she's not being harassed by the paparazzi (i.e. me). 

Never leaving

I have a cranky reputation to maintain. Sometimes that's hard in the face of good neighbors. 

Even if they get enough people to sign the petition to run me out of the neighborhood, I'm not leaving because of people like this. I have a friend, N, who has been diagnosed with cancer. It's debilitating for her, and her yard, which she has nurtured for decades, is a bit out of control right now since she's bedridden. Enter L, who noticed the issue and volunteered to do some mowing, cutting back plants that have overgrown the sidewalk, and generally do some weed abatement just to keep it from getting out of hand. And here's the clincher. L doesn't even live on N's street. She noticed it while walking her dog. 

Now, I know what you're thinking. If I'm N's friend, and L doesn't even really know N that well, why have I not jumped to the task? L must be a young person who's eager to show the world that Gen Z or whatever is very willing to work in spite of all the press to the contrary. 

First, I can't keep up with my own yard given the afflictions of old age joints. Every day that I do a bit of weeding, trimming, or other cleanup activities, my joints scream in protest. Adding any other physically challenging chores to my already too long to do list is not feasible (other than occasional dog sitting).

Second, contrary to expectation, L is retired as well. She mentioned her back was complaining rather loudly after only a half hour of work, but she was still willing to help out any way she could. Now THAT'S a great human being. 

So again, this witch ain't leaving.

Happy face

Things are going totally nuts in gardens these days, including mine. It's hard to believe that even non-gardener that I am, some things have thrived. OK, to refresh your memories, the African Daisies, Geraniums, and Sea Lavender have outdone themselves this year.

My bottle border area with the tiny aloe I planted what seems like yesterday, has exploded and is blooming.

Even this guy is super happy with the abundance this spring.