Bug Killer

There is a form of hypocrisy common to nearly all gardeners.  It does not affect only the gentle amateurs, but has been known to affect even the most hardened professional, who is not, generally speaking, a sentimental or squeamish man.  It is the human weakness which, accompanying our determination to rid ourselves of our slugs and snails, makes us reluctant next morning to contemplate the result of our over-night efforts.

-Vita Sackville-West
A Joy of Gardening; 1958

SONY DSC

I was sitting out with my husband the other night, which we tend to do a lot in the summer months.   I was telling him about some mysterious creature attacking my roses.  I never saw anything during the day but the next morning the leaves would be almost gone and my buds would disappear.   He gave me a flashlight and told me to go look for slugs.  I had just sprayed everything that day so smugly I took the flashlight not thinking I’d find anything.  I didn’t find slugs, but instead, multiple June bugs were having a slow menacing feast.  They kept on in their euphoric culinary heaven even while I flashed my light on them.  I flicked them off and they all landed on the ground with tiny crackling thuds like they were dead.   I grabbed a jar and gathered them up.  Then I went around knocking all the June bugs I could find into my jar.

SONY DSC

Succumbed to the poison they had consumed from my leaves, all but two were dead.  Or so I thought.  For twelve hours they sat still inside the jar.  Two still squirmed, clambering all over their dead in an effort to free themselves.  I thought it only fair to put an end to their suffering.  I soaked a tissue with alcohol and placed it inside.   It is the same thing I used to do in elementary school when we were assigned bug projects.   But somehow the alcohol brought them all to life again and they ALL began to squirm from the alcohol’s suffocating effects.  I couldn’t believe it.  I didn’t know June bugs played dead.  That’s what they were doing, hoping I’d leave them alone so they could continue their feast.  I promptly placed the jar in the freezer.  Now they are definitely dead.   Do you think I’m cruel?  Perhaps I am.   But I will only say, it is cruel for a creature to take away the health of my rose bushes.   There are plenty of other roses in this neighborhood.  The house next door, for instance, has two neglected climbers.   Since I gathered them, others have yet to find my garden.

If you do have this problem you can use a spray or dust with Seven.  You can also try to catch them in oil with a light, but I think drowning them in oil is just as cruel or perhaps more so.   It is cruel no matter what.  But we are human.  Unlike insects, we registrar thoughts and contemplate life and have to endure every bump and bruise conscientiously and to its full extent and if a beautiful roses bush brings us a little pleasure from all we must take on then God help the creature who treads through our gardens.

SONY DSC

 

Advertisements

Garden For The Eyes-Write For The Ears

The watchers out on the grass could see the interior of the rooms illuminated by the savage glow.  The paneling of the hall had caught, and even as they looked they saw the canvas of a portrait give an extra little spurt of a yellower flame and flutter without its frame to the floor.  This was the odd thing to observe: the mingling of such small detail and Wagnerian holocaust.

Vita Sackville-West
The Easter Party; 1953

Since we are approaching winter it seems appropriate for one to think about hunkering down with some good books-or perhaps finishing that novel or collection of poems you’ve been working on.  Can I please then, for a moment talk about writing?  I just finished the most glorious little forgotten book.  As most old books are forgotten let us not forget Logan Pearsall Smith and his little book of reminisces, The Unforgotten Years.  Beautiful little piece of history.  I was excited to sit and read each weathered page of my old copy.

SONY DSC
There seems to be a lack of appreciation of good writing today.   It seems the style that has come into fashion is a very dry prose with an over use of BIG words.   In reality, by doing so and too often, they are only extracting the richness out of their descriptions.  When reading some of the modern works today.  It feels as though the heart is taken out of the prose.  The humanity, or the human condition is no longer a factor to be examined.

SONY DSC

Ironically Smith complains about this same thing occurring in his old age with youthful writers over one hundred years ago.   He says:

“The truth is that almost all that makes the reading of old books delightful is neglected by those who wield their steel nibs in the age of steel.  There were arts, there were blandishments, there were even tricks, which were intended to beguile the older generations, and which have succeeded in beguiling subsequent generations as well.  In the first place good prose used to be written, not, as it is written to-day, for the eye alone, but also for the ear.”

When read aloud your writing should sound as elegant as intended.  If the reader must stumble over ostentatious verbiage most of the time- your point will be lost.  You see what I did there?   At least in my humble opinion this is the case with writing today.

Now, back to the garden for it too must hunker down and get to work.  Like the roses which must turn their fine petals of silk into rose hips for the birds, you too must do this with your writing.  Give the world something to feed upon that will enrich as well as  caress the broken hearts and the lonely souls of this world.

SONY DSC

 

 

 

 

 

 

Morning Glory: A Warning

Meanwhile we surround a huge black Chinese jar with the blue Oxypetalum and the blue plumbago all through the summer, and drop a pot full of morning glory, Heavenly Blue, into the Chinese jar, to pour downwards into a symphony of different blues.

-Vita Sackville-West
A Joy of Gardening; 1958

SONY DSC

I missed writing a post last week because I was tirelessly working on my second book.   It’s almost finished but I just need to “paint” a few more layers to make it solid.   Sometimes I think I should start a writing process blog so I can vent my troubles to the world instead of my incredibly patient husband.  I ask him, “Did I run into this kind of trouble on my last book?  Did I want to give up and throw it in the garbage?”  “Yes,” he replies.  “Keep at it, you’ll eventually find what you’re looking for.”  Like some magical oracle he says this and I believe him because he seems to be always right.   So for a week I toiled and mulled over the hole I was almost falling in until I found a little bridge to take me across.  The story is so much better now.  All I needed to do was spend a little more time with the characters (I’m going on a year with this one) and they eventually showed me the way.

Much like the garden and the flowers we have planted.  The more time you spend with them the more you get to know them.  Take for instance the morning glory as it is our subject this week.   How excited I was to buy these seeds, the seeds of the Heavenly Blue which Vita talks about endlessly.   I believe she called it the perfect shade of blue.  I have written a post on morning glory called From Muddy Waters to Finding the Perfect Shade of Blue, but I wrote that post before I spent any time with the flower.  I will say now that I would have planted them elsewhere.
img_1997

What I didn’t realize was these vines, once they get going, won’t stop.  Surely they will take over your other plants if not put in a place all their own where they can’t reap havoc.   Their little arms reach out grabbing for whatever they can and they pull, twist and coax everything  into their leafy embrace.  They uprooted one of my large zinnias and shielded my beloved rose bushes from the sun. They are wild.  As a result, I am currently treating all my roses for black spot.

img_2081

So the other day on a surprisingly warm October afternoon, I looked at my garden and I got angry.  Once coveted and prized for their beautiful blue flowers I now gazed at them with loathing.  They had turned out to be completely impolite and gluttonous with the space they were given.  I realized I had made a grave mistake.  Planting the morning glory in my garden was like bringing a wild animal into my house.  Once it grew to four inches it went wild all over the place, too quickly for me to stop it.   I was finished with this little shop of horrors menace so I got a little rough and I pushed all the vines to one side of the fence and I took my shears and freed my rose bushes and zinnias from their grasp.

They are beautiful, yes, and I would highly recommend them if you have the room.  But choose a space that will be entirely theirs,  keep them away from all other plants.  If you do you’ll be happy and you’ll enjoy them thoroughly.  They are very beautiful and deserve full attention away from the garden where the “domestic” plants live.

img_1999