Nurturing Nature

I came home tonight and saw that my rose bush and herb pot needed water. I grabbed the hose and doused the rose which is still sitting in its pot. Just as I was turning to the pot of herbs I heard a SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK! I saw something scurry in the irises. Please, please don't be a mouse, I said to myself. A mouse would be a problem. I looked and saw a tiny ball of brownish grey fir with ears. As I pulled back the irises a bit more the creature leaped up. Startled, I jumped back. I went in to take another look and decided it must be a baby bunny. Ohhhh! Where is mamma? What if some big ol' nasty crow finds the little guy? I grabbed a Folgers coffee bucket and placed it between the irises and the side of the house hoping that bunny would take refuge in there if need be. He ignored it though, and actually when he hopped closer I could see that the little guy was still blind.

(Okay, so he still looks a bit like a mouse or rodent in this pic, but I promise you there is no rodent tail, so we're cool)

I Googled "Found a baby rabbit" and was reassured by this bit of info:

Rabbit mothers nurse their babies for approximately 5 minutes a day. They will be in the nest or nest box early in the morning and then again in the evening...If you come across a nest of bunnies in the wild and the mother is no where to be seen, please DO NOT disturb them...this is normal. Mother rabbits return to the nest to nurse only at night, staying away as much as possible so as not to attract predators. To determine if the mother is returning, create a tic-tac-toe pattern over the nest with straw, grasses or tiny twigs. Wait 24 hours to see if the twigs have been disturbed. She may be able to feed them without moving the twigs much, so double check--If the babies look healthy, are warm, then the mother is coming back.

--According to the House Rabbit Society 

There appears to be a nest in the leaves of the irises, which explains why Elmo was so interested in them the last time he was here. I know rabbits are almost a nuisance in suburbia, (okay, they are the very definition of nuisance since they do eat my flowers) but come on, they're so cute and it's nice to have such a cute animal friend in my back yard. Plus, I found the bunny when I was taking care of Love. If that isn't a divine plot I don't know what is.

(I need a pet, don't I? I'm one rabbit nest away from crazy town.)

Weed problem?

My neighbours on the south side of my property are sweet people who take good care of their yard. I do my best to keep up with them but sometimes I'm a couple of days behind in getting my grass cut because hey, I'm a young single gal with things to do. I always feel pangs of guilt when I get behind, like I'm a bad neighbour, but I know I'm no where near as bad as my neighbours on the north side. Their grass often gets to jungle levels. Plus, they have dogs who poop in the front yard and I'm always afraid when I'm doing my grass that I'll accidentally step in a poopy present near the edge of the property line. They do sometimes take the dogs out for their business, evident by the fact that they leave bags of poop on their front door step.

So imagine my surprise when I came home today and noticed that they had mowed the lawn and I was the monkey in the middle with the unruly greens. But wait, upon closer inspection, there was another, more puzzling surprise for me--some of my own lawn was shorter than I had left it this morning.

The redneck neighbour or the redneck neighbour kid, cut the front lawn and a good chunk of my lawn too. Odd, but okay. However there were other random spots in the middle of the yard that had obviously been run over with a mower too. There was a bit of a question mark shape alongside a vertical line. What the hey? Dude, cut your grass, but don't smoke it and go back to operating the lawn mower. I don't know how home owner's insurance works if you have an accident while you're stoned and cutting random patterns into my front lawn.

I grabbed my camera and made like I was taking photos of my flower beds. I had to try to get a picture of this to share with you and my parents.

Look between the two bushes and follow the patch that looks brown as it comes down and then curves to the left. That's not dead, it's a random act of mowing. (Grass growers live to the left of this photo)

See this pic too for another angle:

Can you also see the wheel tracks to the right of the mowed part? There was another mowed patch somewhere along there too. No mowed line or tracks into my yard, just this, right smack in the middle, like suburban crop circles. Bizzare.

Now let's look at my flowers.

Lily

Budding Love

Love in bloom

Notes on the weekend of July 16-18

My friend Irene has dubbed herself my Fairy Godmother matchmaker and planned out a Manventure evening for Friday night. Amara picked me up and we met Irene at a neighbourhood lounge to start the scoping. It was a hot summer Friday night, there was a Bomber game on the TV and drinks were pouring, but would you believe that when Amara and I walked in the room all we saw were other pairs of women sitting at the tables?

We kept optimistic though and decided after the first drink to change our venue to a busy little place in the Exchange District. Again, slim pickings. We finished the night off with some club dancing. No romance found but the determination of my friends to find me a new special friend is so heartwarming in itself. You guys are the best.

After finishing two over par on Friday I thought that Golfer guy hadn't made the cut to the playoffs for the weekend, but when I checked online on Saturday morning I saw that he had just made it in, yay! But I'd already missed his tee-off and had a hair appointment so I wouldn't be able to go watch again. I checked in on the scores throughout the day and was happy to see he had a much better game finishing at par. Golfer guy did play on Sunday but by the time they posted his tee-time I already had plans for the day.

Saturday night was also the Bon Jovi concert at the stadium. Lisa and I had tickets in the north endzone.

"I have a broken heart too!" Lisa told me as we walked to the stadium.

"Oh no!" At first I thought she meant some dumb guy had gotten to her, but she was actually referring to the ticker in her chest. Her doctor detected a heart murmur. It's an innocent one though so no worries. Oh yeah, my heart checked out a-okay with the cardiologist this week. I still have the Teletubby in my heart (Tinky-Wenckebach!) but Doc says it had no relation to my fainting spell last year (Lisa also had a fainting spell last fall, we are true bosom buddies). I guess next time I sprain my ankle I really should just sit down for a moment.

The concert was super. Standing in an outdoor stadium with 40,000 other people singing Living on a Prayer with Jon Bon Jovi was worth the price of admission--$55 for me, $5 for my lucky duck sister who got a last minute ticket in the same section.

One two three FAMILY

Late morning yesterday I stood with my family on the sidelines of the Bombers' practice field. We were there as invited guests. I was told that the team would be making a special presentation to my aunt in honour of my uncle.

My uncle did a lot of work with the Bombers, helping to maintain the turf and get things fixed around the stadium. He got involved with the team after my aunt started volunteering with the game day crew. My other aunt, my dad's sister, also started off volunteering in the office for the team and now works there part-time.

While we waited for practice to wrap up we greeted Lorne, the team padre. When my uncle was in the hospital he was there too, every day until the end. I wasn't there on the night when my uncle suddenly went downhill, but my mom told me that night Lorne had gathered the family and led everyone in an uplifting prayer.

Lorne is a simple, humble and soft-spoken man with the height of a basketball player. He was asked to preside over the internment of the ashes and the memorial service. He had never done a funeral before and was used to addressing a group of athletes, but he did a wonderful job for us.

When the practice finished the defense team stayed on the field and we were invited to join them. Their coach, a gentle giant man with a thick southern accent, addressed the team and started to speak about the reason we were there. He got choked up and my aunts had to wrap their arms behind him to help him go on. After he spoke, my aunt came forward and told the team about her husband, the man who did everything he could to ensure their turf was a safe playing surface.

The team, including the head coach, presented my aunt with a package of gifts from the team. Then we were all invited to join the players in a huddle and raise a hand toward the football in the center.

"Not so high guys!" My eighty-six-year-old grandma hollered, arm stretched as far as she could go.

"One two three, FAMILY" we all cheered and then broke the huddle.

When Lorne addressed us at the services he said, "you guys are a great family and I feel like I'm part of it." Yesterday, before we went onto the field he said to us, "You guys are a part of this Bomber family." In a flash we lost a member of our family last week, but we grew in a lot of ways too.

Death is a humbling thing in that it's a reminder of immortality, but it also leaves me in awe at all the kindness and compassion people give to help others get through the sad times.


PS--today is my mom's birthday and I baked her a pretty cake. Happy birthday Mom!

Update July 10, 2010--Winnipeg Sun article mention of the tribute.

RRSP: Rhubarb Retirement Savings Plan

Yesterday I went strawberry picking with my mom. I'd never gone before and yet it's such a prairie girl thing to do. I have a new found respect for berry pickers. Do you ever think about how those strawberries get from the field to the one or two pound package you pick up at the store? I will now. If you've never been to a strawberry farm, let me help you get a visual. Crouch down low, stare at the floor and pick the fluff you see. Now shuffle a bit to the left and repeat for an hour or so. Go put $24 in a pot to pay for the fruits of your labour and that's essentially berry picking.

On the way home from the country my mom and I stopped at a few nurseries and a farmer's market. I picked up some herb plants at one and a cute new house plant at another. I found the plant irresistible, like a puppy at the pound. It's a Mimosa Pudica--aka, Sensitive Plant and when you touch it, its leaves fold up. I tried to take a video of it today to share with you but it didn't turn out so well, and now it it night time and the plant has curled up to sleep. No joke. I'll try again tomorrow.

On our way out of the place where I bought the plant we spotted a rose bush on sale. I've planted two roses since moving into my house and both died over the winter. I'm not ready to give up yet though. The tag on this one sold me. The picture showed that the flower would be red with white on the inside of the petals, but the part that really had me was the name--"Love". So I am going to plant Love in my back yard and hopefully have it grow and blossom.



When we got back to my parents' place I helped my mom clean up garden a bit and pull some rhubarb. I walked barefoot in the cool mud and then sat on the grass to cut the leaves off the stalks. It was hot and sunny so I placed one of the big floppy leaves on my head for shade.

"Sometimes I think I'd like a much simpler life," I told my mom. "I want to go live on one of those farms where you just live off of what you can produce and make your own electricity." When my dad came home I told him, "Let's just tour around in the motorhome, selling pies, jam, and whatever mom and I can sew." I wonder how long this would be fulfilling. Would I miss this life I've made? Would I miss fashion, Hollywood entertainment, Starbucks and my Bath and Bodyworks plug in room deodorizer? I really think I could give up most things except for good company.

I have ambition to make strawberry rhubarb jam. With all the rhubarb I harvested I should be able to make a pie or two too. Not enough to retire on yet I'm afraid. Sigh. Back to work on Monday.

Lesson #1 of vacation: do not try to fill the day with work. It angers the vacation gods and you will pay.

Yesterday I came up with the idea to go to my mom's and dad's and cut the grass for my Pa. It needed to be done and the forecast was calling for rain later, which would make it un-cut-able later when my dad would be coming home from work. Also, it seemed like a nice thing to do.

So I pulled his lawnmower out of the shed and went through the motions to start it. Squish squish squish to prime the motor with gas, grip the handle and then yank the starting cord. The cord was considerably longer than then one one my lawn mower and in a different place. I failed to get it started. I tried again and again and again. Left it alone for a while, tried again and then admitted defeat.

I phoned my dad and told him that if he wanted someone to look after his grass while he is on his cross-America tour this fall, he'd better get an easier to start lawnmower.

My next project was to wash Truck in the driveway with Dad's power washer. After a long search for soap, a struggle with getting the water connected and hitting my head on a hanging plant, I finally was able to start washing. I worked on my parents' car first, as it was in the driveway. I finished it and then moved it out, and Truck in. I got a quarter of Truck soaped and rinsed when the power washer died. I did not want to tell my dad about that one.

I finished washing Truck by hand with a hose and a brush. I then turned to the motorhome and decided to wash the bugs off the front of it. I soon forgot all about that dead power washer and got lost in the zen-ness of rubbing away the bug guts to reveal a clean, white surface.

Later that evening my mom mentioned the power washer to my dad. I braced myself for the grilling about what I was doing when it stopped working, was I being careful not to get it wet, and where is the thing now. But instead, my dad asked, "where did you have it plugged in?"

"Where the motorhome is plugged in."

"Did you check the breaker?"

"Um. No."

So the good news is, the power washer is not burned out. The bad news is, the fridge in the motorhome was not receiving power for a good eight hours. There was ice cream and a bag of ice in there. 

It must be 11 o'clock somewhere

I am on vacation. I woke up a couple of times this morning, checked my watch and gave myself permission to go back to sleep for a little while longer. When I looked and saw that it was 8:27 I decided it was time to rise and shine. I stopped by the thermostat to check the current inside temperature. The 22 degree reading it gave did not prompt me to turn on the air conditioning, but the clock there said it was only 7:35. That contraption has a habit of losing time and dates so I adjusted it.

I went into the kitchen and looked at the two boxes of Shredded Wheat I picked up in America on the weekend--that's right, I went all the way to America to get geriatric cereal. I also bought two pairs of shoes, two summer skirts, a pair of sunglasses and a heap of other items I actually needed (okay, so I didn't need the second pair of shoes, but I did need the first, they are navy blue and I don't have any navy blue shoes). Instead of pouring a bowl of cereal though I reached for my last piece of Rice Crispie cake. Then I spotted the time on the stove--7:37. I looked at the clock on the microwave and saw the same thing. I started to sense a pattern. Mac, my laptop, said it was only seven and a half hours into the day and so did the cable box. Majority rules? Or am I in some kind of twilight time zone, stuck between Manitoba and Alberta time? What day is it? How long have I been here for? Oh wait, I see, I left my watch on stopwatch and it's been running since eleven o'clock last night. Gah!

Anyway, welcome to day two of my 2010 summer holidays. I can never decide if I want to spend my holidays sleeping in or trying to pack as much as possible into every day I don't have to go sit at a desk. Maybe today will be a pack it in kind of day, since I started it an entire hour early already. Wish me luck.