The Unsolved Case Of The Purloined Tomatoes

July 17, 2014July 29, 2015 / Ally Bean / 51 Comments

As I was walking around the back of the house on a bright and sunny summer morning I noticed that a red ripe tomato from my container garden on the deck above had fallen onto the path below.

Curious as always I wondered: How did that happen?

So I walked up onto the deck where I discovered more tomatoes off the vine. Tomatoes with little teeth-y marks on them. Tomatoes that seemed to have somehow fallen from the vine prematurely.

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Immediately my mind went to our ~~favorite sneak~~ resident squirrel, Fuzzy. So I bided my time and waited to talk with him when he stopped by for his daily afternoon visit.

After we exchanged the usual pleasantries, I looked him straight in the eye and asked: Fuzzy, do you notice anything different around here? There seems to have been a crime committed. A theft.

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To his credit Fuzzy took the time to look around before he denied all culpability in the crime. He looked to his left.

He looked to his right.

He glanced immediately below onto the deck.

Then he suggested that the real culprit in this crime was that nasty old raccoon who lives in the old tree on the other side of the ravine.

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When I mentioned that the nasty old raccoon hadn’t been seen in years and was presumed dead, and therefore incapable of stealing green or red tomatoes, Fuzzy ignored me. This was of no concern to him.

Having answered my questions to his satisfaction, Fuzzy then set about doing that which he had come to do: he started licking the terra-cotta pot to get his afternoon salt feast.

And I was left with the impression that I’d been conned once again by Fuzzy the Squirrel.

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Project Hummer Is Not Going Well

June 17, 2014November 19, 2015 / Ally Bean / 46 Comments

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I’m sad to report that my grand plan for turning one corner of our deck into a small hummingbird garden/feeding station is not going well. It’s not for lack of cuteness, I tell you.

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Here’s what I’ve done.

√ 3 pots of annuals: 1 dark red geranium, 1 hot pink calibrachoa, 1 fuchsia portulaca

√ 1 sturdy wrought iron shepherd’s hook attached to side of deck

√ 1 hand-painted hummingbird feeder with red plastic pretend flowers that allow the hummers to drink, but thwart the bees

√ 1 32 oz. hummingbird nectar concentrate, chilled in our fridge, then mixed with fresh water using an old Pyrex glass measuring cup to insure proper proportions

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No, it’s not me that’s causing trouble with the hummers. It is, I’m sad to report, Fuzzy the Squirrel and his partner in crime, Khaki, who are causing Project Hummer to fail.

Apparently the sweet nectar in the pretty feeder is too much for them to pass up, so they’ve found a way to tilt the feeder on its side allowing the sweet nectar to dribble onto the ground below where they can enjoy it at their squirrel-y leisure.

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This means that until I figure out a way to keep Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid of squirrels away from the hummingbird feeder, my grand plan is on hold. And all those amazing little hummers who live behind our house in the woods will have to feed themselves on the 22 pink or red or peach rose bushes that surround our house.

The little birds will survive, but I won’t get the fun of seeing them drink up each day… all because two sneaky, uncooperative squirrels have found the best nectar bar in town. Humph.

As Summer Begins, A Snake In The Mulch

June 3, 2014June 3, 2014 / Ally Bean / 14 Comments

Neither one of us asked why it was there. Or how it got there. No, we went straight to the WHAT IS IT DOING? question.

I was standing outside on the front sidewalk talking with the UPS delivery woman. She had dropped off a package, knocked on the front door and was walking back to her truck when she saw it.

When I opened the front door to retrieve the package she turned to me and pointed to [what I believe is, but could be wrong about] a milk snake in the planting bed nearest the house. I walked out to where she was standing and saw Milky.

He was doing his snake-y thing. Slithering. Sticking his head into various heretofore unnoticed holes in the ground around the roses.

# # #

After watching Milky together, the UPS delivery woman told me that this was her first snake on the job. She’d been warned that things like this could happen, especially out in wooded suburban developments.

For her, Milky was a milestone. And she left our property with a smile on her face, pleased with her find.

# # #

But as for me, Milky’s existence has brought a new level anxiety to my life. I realize that if he can get into the planting beds this close to the house, he can slither his way up onto our front door stoop and greet me when I step out of the house using the front door.

So, I’ve done the only thing that I know to do. I’ve put a note on the inside of the front door where I will see it before I open the door. The note is short and to the point. It says: REMEMBER THE SNAKE.

And with that thought in mind, my summer begins.

My Report On Periwinkles, A Spring Flower That Is Often Overlooked

April 11, 2014April 11, 2014 / Ally Bean / 24 Comments

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I call these vines, which are growing in the shady area around the base of our deck, Periwinkles. Currently the lavender-blue flowers, which contrast so beautifully with the dark green leaves, are in bloom.

Aren’t they pretty?

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“Originally a native of southern Europe,… ‘Periwinkle’ is thought to be an old Slavic word, pervinka, meaning ‘first’ and referring to the early spring flowers.”

~ C. Colston Burrell

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A few years ago when the landscapers put these Periwinkles around the deck, a little plastic gardening tag embedded in each of the plants told me that they were called Vinca minor, not Periwinkles. Since then I’ve come to realize that sometimes these trailing vines + flowers are also called myrtle.

Such a humble plant to have three names.

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“Periwinkle vines gently embrace one another, clinging gently to their surroundings, and therefore are associated with fidelity in folk magic.”

~ Feri Tradition

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According to the Victorian language of flowers, Periwinkles mean early friendship. This makes sense to me because they bloom early and because they look approachable & non-threatening.

Who doesn’t feel comfortable around simple little flowers on sturdy vines?

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“Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; And ’tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes.”

~ William Wordsworth

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I’m glad that I snapped a photo of these little flowers. They’re easy to take for granted. I imagine that it’s difficult to be a periwinkle, especially when you are surrounded by showy daffodils, pushy tulips & spazzy forsythia who get all the springtime attention.

Makes me adore Periwinkles even more.