Sometimes You Have to Get Real
I have been thinking about this post for a long time. In fact, I have written several versions in my mind, but none of them have made it into physical or digital form. As anyone visiting this blog can tell, I haven’t been writing much. I haven’t been gardening much either, so you aren’t missing anything there. This past month, I made the effort to take a good long look at my life and determine what changes I can and should make.
When I started this blog, I thought writing about my gardening adventures would help me focus less on my day job and more on my life, including hobbies such as writing and gardening. The lack of balance is the crux of my problem, and it has been for a while. I have allowed work to control my life, and while I spend my energies working or thinking about work, my life has passed by me. I work in a high-stress job, and I’m responsible for keeping the ball moving for multiple projects. Most days I feel like a juggler, and some days I truly wonder how I stay on top of everything. It is exhausting, but I allow it to invade my personal space way too much. Fortunately, I have lived long enough and worked long enough to know that this is a problem with me, not any particular job.
Though I don’t want to be a Type-A personality, I am. I have high expectations for myself and others. I take on way too much responsibility, and I take ownership of everything I touch. Projects get personal with me, and I have a hard time maintaining perspective. I spend just as much time worrying about work as I do actually working. On our recent vacation, I noticed that it took half of the week for me to disconnect, and I could feel the stress rising with each day I drew closer to the end of vacation. That should not be the norm for anyone. My job is not who I am, and I need to take back my life!
As for the gardening side of things, I will admit that my interest in gardening has waned. A massive case of poison ivy spoiled my summer early on, and after I hired someone to help me with the bigger tasks, I realized how much I’d rather plan a garden than weed it. I’m a day dreamer and a planner but not the best implementer. Whether or not I get back into the gardening groove remains to be seen, but for now, I am at peace with my laziness.
Getting real means looking at what I want to change and how I want to live my life. Admitting that I have a problem with balance is the first step. This Night Owl’s garden needs some work, and I will share my adventures about how I reclaim my life.
FYI…The control freak in me usually agonizes over a post. I edit and edit and edit. Well, that keeps me from posting more frequently, so I’m letting that go too! Please forgive any grammatical or spelling errors as well as missing words (I sometimes skip words accidentally). Now, I’m hitting “Publish!”
What Have I Done?
Last fall a good friend of mine suggested that we offer our yard (and home) for the local historical organization’s box supper. She assured me that we would not have to worry about anything. The historical organization would take care of all the food, beverages, tables, chairs, set up, and removal. I would provide my yard for the supper, and my house would be open for tours. The event would be held in June. I definitely needed some inspiration for fixing up my yard, so in early January I agreed to hosting the June event.
“What have you done?!” exclaimed my Mom when I told her. She immediately launched into the laundry list of everything I need to do to prepare the house and yard. Of course, the event would affect her as well since our yards are joined, so she also talked about what she needed to do. I reassured her that everything would be fine and that I could take care of the multitude of tasks.
Of course, all this sounded fine and dandy in January. I wasn’t worried about the overgrown shrubs, fallen limbs and trees, weedy patio, crumbling front and back steps, sunken stepping stone front walk, filthy fish pond, neglected vegetable garden, sagging/leaking roof, etc. After all, we signed the contract to have our roof replaced back in October. Surely, it would be done in plenty of time for the event despite the nasty winter (thank heavens for tarps!). I finally had some back up at work, so taking time off to prepare wouldn’t be a problem. I could do it all!
Winter dragged on, my back up person at work resigned, a large work project needed a lot of my attention along with a multitude of other projects, and before I knew it, April was well underway, and I had not taken care of anything on my list.
What have I done? A few weeks ago, I asked myself the very question my Mom asked in January… What have I done? I really thought I had everything under control, but somehow life had a way of happening. I wasn’t expecting to be so busy at work, and I wasn’t expecting my husband to be buried in work. I wasn’t expecting all my fish in the pond to die (another story for another day). I wasn’t expecting the roof project to be so delayed. I wasn’t expecting to have lost so many limbs in the winter ice storms. As usual, a lot of the unexpected happened, and time marched on. What have I done?… not much!
I’m frugal, and I like to think I can do everything, but I finally had to break down and admit to myself that I needed help. Fortunately, I have been able to find some help, and in a matter of two weeks, things have started to shape up. A local handyman/contractor and his crew have mortared the front and back steps and stabilized the handrails. They also cleaned and sanded the brick patio and hauled away fallen limbs. A local gardening company has cleaned out the fish pond, planted around the fish pond, cleaned up my veggie garden, knocked down some honeysuckles, and trimmed the front bushes. I also got reassurances from the roofer that our project will begin the first week of May.
You know you’re a grown up when…
A trimmed hedge is exciting…
A stable handrail matters…
You admit that the moss isn’t taking (my mossy experiment did not survive the winter)…
A freshly-sanded, weed-free patio is beautiful…
A tilled veggie garden brings joy…
Though I wanted to do all of this myself, I must admit that coming home to find these tasks accomplished by professionals has been a huge relief. I might have less money in my bank account, but I have the peace of mind knowing that everything has been done correctly. Preparing the veggie garden alone would have taken an entire weekend for me, but it only took the gardener part of a day. I enjoy gardening, but when a deadline looms, it’s good to have people around who can help relieve the pressure. I am grateful for the work that has been done over the past couple of weeks. Of course, there’s more in store, including a real front walkway, actual fish in the pond, spring plants, and updates on my rehab plants.
Flower Pockets & Bats Don’t Mix
Back in August I complained to my husband that we were in a boring routine. We pretty much were always working, recovering from work, or preparing for our first 5k. We had started Couch to 5k in April, and we had been very devoted to our running schedule. I will admit the yard suffered from neglect during this time since I was loathe to pull muscles in my legs from weeding in the garden. Word to the wise: never, ever complain that you are in a boring routine!
On the Sunday prior to our first 5K (A Midsummer Night’s Run), we returned home around 10 p.m. to hear someone rustling around in the flower pocket next to the front door. My husband turned and said, “We have a visitor!” as he fiddled with the keys. Of course, I immediately realized that a bat must be in the flower pocket. For a second, I thought it was cute. As I walked up the steps, I had a gut feeling that maybe I should have run for the back door, but it was too late.
The little bat probably looked like this one. Am I weird because I think they’re cute? Thank you to Kathy (kthypryn)on Flickr for taking this photo on March 14, 2013 and releasing it under creative commons license. I have only resized the original photo for use in this post.
I heard our little bat friend scratching up the inside of the pocket, and I ducked. Either my movements were too slow or the bat’s radar was totally off as the bat smacked into my head. The bat hit hard on the crown of my head and flew away. We didn’t have a lot of contact, but it was enough to send my heart racing.
I ran into the house and started feeling around on my scalp. The area burned, but it could have been from the impact. My husband checked my scalp and could not see anything. I jumped into the shower and soaped and scrubbed my head.
After my shower, I wondered if I had been exposed to rabies. I know it sounds paranoid. I kept thinking I was crazy for having this nagging feeling. As all worriers do, I popped on the Internet. I immediately went to the Center for Disease Control website. The CDC recommends rabies prophylaxis for anyone exposed to a bat whether or not visible bite marks can be seen since bite marks can be invisible to the naked eye and might not bleed. Rabies is a fatal disease and can take up to six years to show symptoms. Once symptoms appear, it is too late. I did not want to take my chances. My heart sank, and tears rolled down my face. Everything I read online said that I had a window of time to start the shots, so I waited until morning.
I spent that entire night worrying, crying, and talking to my husband, who probably wanted to sleep. My husband investigated the scene while I was in the shower and reported that the flower pocket was full of June bugs. That poor little bat had hit the jackpot for dinner, and we ruined it for him. My husband offered to put the flower pocket back up in case the bat returns and then we could have him tested (killed and tested, that is). Though I was hysterical, I was logical enough to say that we cannot guarantee that it would be the same bat and that I didn’t feel like the little bat deserved to die just because I’m afraid of a bunch of shots.
The next day I spent a lot of time on the phone while trying to work. Both my primary care physician and our local university division of Infectious Disease confirmed that I needed the rabies prophylaxis. After some runaround with my health insurance provider, I was put in touch with our local health department (the county where I work, not where I live). The health department explained the protocol to me and also explained that I would have to wait a day due to the shortage of vaccination.
The following morning, less than 48 hours after the incident, I walked into the health department, completed my paperwork, and waited. When I went into the examination room, the nurse walked me through more paperwork. I couldn’t believe the amount of paperwork, but I’m glad to know that everything was well-documented. I’m a documentation fiend myself, so I appreciate that the government collects everything it can regarding possible rabies exposure.
When I was little, I remembered hearing horrible tales of 21 shots in the stomach and immense pain, but I am happy to report that those days are over. The rabies prophylaxis begins with HRIG (human rabies immune globulin) shots that are administered according to weight, the rabies vaccination shot, and in my case, a tetanus shot (I was overdue). The HRIG provides passive immunity like mother’s milk for infants and takes effect immediately. The rabies vaccination provides active immunity but takes a few weeks and additional vaccinations to provide protection.
The nurses were hoping my weight would calculate for only three HRIG shots, but I was just over the border, so I had to have four. I really wished I had lost more weight during the summer! I had one shot in the top of each gluteus maximus where they could reach actual muscle and not just fat and one shot in each quadricep (I had some good muscles from running). The HRIG is made from human plasma that has been exposed to rabies. It is very thick, and it takes a while to inject, but fun conversation with the nurses kept the focus off the injections.
Here’s a fascinating fact: the rabies vaccine is hot pink! The rabies vaccine looked more like a gag gift than an actual vaccine. It could have passed for a Jello shot. The rabies shot went in my right arm, and the tetanus shot (with pertussis…might as well get that too) went in my left arm. I did ask if I could get a rabies tag, and I later bragged to friends that I had more in common with my cats than they did with their cats.
After the first appointment was over, I was given a rigid schedule for the remaining three rabies shots. I would take the second one on on the third day, the third one on the seventh day, and the fourth one on the fourteenth day. I could not miss a dose, and I went ahead and blocked out my schedule for the coming appointments.
Believe it or not, I went into work that first day after my appointment. I arrived around noon and began preparations for attending two out-of-town meetings over the next two days. I would have to be at the office at 7 a.m. each of those two mornings. Honestly, I wanted to stay home and take it easy as I had no idea how the shots would affect me, but I did not have any backup to cover me, so I had to forge ahead.
Later that afternoon, I hobbled around the office, barely able to walk. The handicap rails in our office bathroom seemed like a gift from the gods. Everything felt more difficult. I couldn’t sit comfortably. Thank heavens for ibuprofen! I felt dizzy and light-headed, but I made it through our meeting preparation discussions. When I went home, I hit the bed hard and slept well regardless of the swollen lumps on my backside and thighs.
Fortunately, my body hurt less the next day, and I made it through both out-of-town meetings with some ibuprofen. I received my second rabies shot on that Friday. The paperwork for the second appointment paled in comparison to the first appointment, and the side effects of the vaccine were minimal.
Through this whole ordeal, I wondered if I could run in the 5k that Saturday. We had spent all summer preparing for it. I did not want to give up, so I decided to run regardless of how I felt. My husband and I ran on Thursday afternoon (two days after the first appointment), and my body ached the whole time. Still, I figured I would feel better by Saturday, and I did. I finished my first 5k in 39 minutes 14 seconds. I did have to walk more than I liked, but I finished, and that’s what counts.
Following the second shot and my first 5k, I experienced some bizarre side effects on that Sunday night/Monday morning. I woke up in the middle of the night freezing to death. I took my temperature, and it was low. I wrapped up in my bathrobe, threw on extra blankets, and even laid on a heating pad, and it took hours for me to warm up. By morning I woke up sweating. I sweat so badly that I waited to get dressed for work until the last minute. Sweat poured off my body, and I had to wear my hair in a pony tail. I could have been Tilda Swinton in Michael Clayton. Of course, I had another out-of-town meeting that morning, and I dreaded looking like a swamp monster all day. By noon, the sweating passed, and I felt relatively normal. Shots three and four caused only minor nerve twinges in each arm and numbness and aching in my fingers.
The side effects I experienced were minor, and I would go through it all again and more to know that I was protected from rabies. I will never know if that bat carried rabies, but I do know that if I feel ill in the coming months and years that rabies won’t be on the table as a possible cause. If a bat smacks me in the head again (furry bat, not baseball bat!), I would have to get rabies booster shots, but I will never have to get the whole protocol again.
The lesson of this story is beware where you place flower pockets or anything that could double as a bat house or bug storage unit. I do recommend placing bat houses on your property in high areas away from your patio or porch. Bats are wonderful creatures that help control the mosquito population. They play an important role in our gardens, and they deserve respect… however, if you hear a bat near your front door, run! Also, never complain that you are in a boring routine. That can change in a heartbeat!
My Plants are in Rehab!
Yes, it has been forever since I posted. I have officially joined the ranks of bloggers who let their blogs languish. I started out with good intentions, but I let life get in the way (more details in posts to come), and then the laziness started. The good news is that it is a new year, and with new years come new beginnings. I am hoping for new beginnings for my plants that are in rehab!
On January 6th and 7th, we experienced what the weather folk called a “Polar Vortex.” It sounds way more exciting than it was. We experienced sub-zero temperatures for a couple of days, which I didn’t think would be too terrible until it was. I guess you could call me a negligent plant parent. I snuggled down in my cozy home during these freezing days and thought about the wonders of hot water heat and the awesomeness of big radiators where cats lounge. Not once, not even for a second, did I think about the welfare of the plants on my sun porch.
The sun porch is a three-season room, so naturally it was freezing without any sort of heat source. For the past couple of winters, I have successfully kept my hanging summer plants happy and healthy through the winter months. The sun porch usually gets enough sunlight during the day to warm up a bit, and the nights, though cold, typically aren’t cold enough to affect my plants.
Unfortunately, while I read about the wonders of radiator heat on my Kindle Fire (yes, I really did that!), my plants were suffering from an arctic blast. The winds howled through the night, and cold air pressed against the windows of the sun porch where my plants were hanging. My wonderful summer plants were the last thought on my mind. Obviously, I can be a bit of a bubble head. If my plants had been children, I would have been arrested.
In my defense, I did spend one day totally and obsessively worried about my frozen water pipes in the kitchen and laundry room. The thought (and horror) of burst pipes filled my head. Even though our home was warm, the crawlspace under the kitchen and laundry room got the brunt of the arctic winds. We spent an entire day with space heaters running in the areas of the pipes and hoping for the best.
Fortunately, my pipes thawed just fine, but my sun porch plants did not fair so well. The potted Goldfish Plant appears to be totally gone. The Wandering Jew, that was about 5-feet tall, withered. The Burro’s Tail turned mushy and started smelling like rotting potatoes. The Spider Plant shriveled up. Surprisingly, the Rabbit’s Foot Fern withstood the cold blast best of all with only a few brown fronds.
I’m hoping I can revive my wounded plants. They are officially in rehab. I trimmed off as much damage as possible, and I have moved them indoors. I’m hoping that these photos are before pictures:
 Spider Plant |
 Wandering Jew |
 Burro’s Tail |
 Rabbit’s Foot Fern |
A Very Mossy Experiment
You know you are a total gardening nerd when a friend gives you a Moss Milkshake as a birthday gift, and you love it! You might be asking what a Moss Milkshake is. I know I did. When I first looked at the milk carton container, I was a bit confused. The pictures of lush moss gardens on the container transported me to my fantasy moss yard world. I read the blurbs all over the container and got so excited at the prospect of carpets of moss. Poking around on Amazon, I noticed the reviews were not stellar (seriously, there were only two reviews), but I thought this milkshake o’ moss could be a lot of fun. My mind jumped to the perfect spot for the mossy experiment.
My yard features a very old fish pond. It has years of leaves and debris in it, yet it also has unusually hardy goldfish. I don’t know how the fish live. It’s a mystery. I can only assume they have their own ecosystem in full swing. I’m sure mosquito larvae, algae, random bugs, and plant matter keep them well fed.
The fish pond is surrounded by ferns, hostas, bleeding hearts,… and weeds. My entire yard has issues wild violets. They are prolific, and honestly, they are fairly attractive as far as weeds go, but I’ve got way, way too many of them. My Mom kept telling me I should put down landscaping cloth and mulch, but that felt way too formal for me. I want the space to exude natural beauty, not manicured precision.
Today, I weeded the area around the fish pond and prepped the soil for the Moss Milkshake. In prepping the soil, I didn’t do much. I just fluffed up the soil a bit after pulling the weeds. I encountered my most-hated weed, poison ivy, on two occasions, but I’m hoping I don’t have a lasting reminder. I also planted some chickens and hens along the sunny edge, a little ground cover plant, a few random succulents of unknown lineage, and two nice ferns.
When I opened the Moss Milkshake, I discovered that non-chlorinated water is recommended. I was planning to use tap water so I needed to make an adjustment. After digging around in the yard, I looked like something from a swamp, and I didn’t want to have to clean up only to get dirty again. Fortunately, my husband was running to the grocery, and I was able to slip in my distilled water request.
When the distilled water arrived, I mixed it with the contents of the Moss Milkshake, and it made a slurry that set up in 5 minutes. The water activated the dehydrated buttermilk and moisture-retaining gel and suspended the dried up moss. The consistency made me think about the slime on “You Can’t Do That on Television.”
I slathered the mossy concoction over the area with my hands trying to touch the existing moss edges for good results. The slurry covers about 20 square feet. I was able to coat the shady sides of the pond but not the rocky back part with the big ferns. Of course, I hopped on Amazon and ordered another container, so I should have the back part covered by the end of the week.
Results can take three to six months to show, and I’ll need to keep the area misted. I’ll definitely post photos with progress.