Matching Tracksuits

fun in fours

around the house

The Eternal Project

Sunday 11 October 2009

The Perpetual Motion machine does exist: it is mischievously named "the house".

When we moved in, the front looked like this:

June 30, 2007

Grass that was fried; shrubs that were ignored.

A general feeling of neglect.

A clogged sewer line a year ago finally prompted us to pull out the dying boxwoods; embarrassment at having the worst-looking lawn in the neighborhood prompted us to emergency measures with our yard.

Now, our yard is well on its way to becoming the envy of all who drive by.

The boxwoods are gone, roots and all.

As is my back.

The replacement bushes are still sitting in a nursery somewhere: that's Wednesday afternoon's project. In the meantime, the bed sits empty.

The upshot of all of this: the cat has a new place to nap.

10,000 Holes

Saturday 26 September 2009

Though not in in Blackburn, Lancashire. Rather, they're in our yard, now.

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Weeding, aeration, leveling, seeding, fertilizing -- it's been a long day.

Confusion

Saturday 05 September 2009

Some weeks seem intent on confusing the sense out me. Students say things that literally leave me speechless, wondering whether or not the kid is joking. Parents and pundits around the land fall into spasms of paranoia about a presidential speech intended to encourage students to take their studies seriously. An odd, high-pitched whistle begins drifting into the house through the back windows at various times during the week leaving everyone wondering what the devil that sound could be.

A long weekend away from all the confusion and nonsense hopefully will help. At the very least, L will experience and hopefully enjoy her first camping trip.

Love Hate

Monday 13 July 2009

L and Bida, our cat, have an uneasy relationship. Or maybe it's a love-hate relationship: L loves, Bida hates.

That might be taking it a bit too far. When Bida is in the mood, a scratch under the neck will bring a quiet purr no matter who's doing the scratching. Yet sensing that mood is difficult for adults; it's all but impossible for L. And so, in the name of love, L simply tortures the cat most of the time.

"I'm helping Bida. She's sick."

The trouble is, her "love" often is not affectionate; her "help" doesn't assist in any way whatsoever. L's simply trying out language and ideas she hears and sees all around her without fully understanding what it means (in the case of "help") or how to show it (in the case of "love"). The result: a frustrated cat and a scratched little Girl.

At the same time, it's incredible the patience Bida can sometimes show our budding veterinarian. She has figured out, I think, that if she waits just a moment, K or I will come and rescue her. And if push comes to shove (and L, in her rambunctiousness, can push and shove sometimes), Bida knows how to use her claws. And one would think that two or three painful, deep scratches would teach L to keep her distance, but to date, it hasn't.

So K and I try to save the two smallest members of our household from each other on a regular basis.

Notes on a Chipmunk

Sunday 12 July 2009

I’m not sure why cats feel they must lovingly share their kill with their owners, but I should focus on the “lovingly share” part and appreciate the generosity. When that sharing involves bringing the kill through the cat door, it’s a little more difficult to focus on the “lovingly share” part. But when that “kill” is not yet dead and scampers away as soon as it’s limp, dangling paws hit the floor, the apprecation is only a vague, theoretical possibility.

We had chipmunks in the basement on a regular basis for a couple of weeks. The big question: where do they live while they’re stuck down there?

During the workshop-redesign-and-rebuild-preparatory cleanup yesterday, the answer was made manifest: in the carpet padding we’d stored under the work bench.

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Visitor

Wednesday 01 July 2009

We have a large hunter that moves through the forested area behind our house with increasing regularity. Actually, there are a couple of them — certainly mates. I’ve tried several times to get pictures of our guests, but to no avail. Yesterday, I finally got a shot.

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These birds sail among the trees almost effortlessly, and their cry immediately confirms the identity: hawks. But they never came close enough or stayed long enough to get a good picture.

Until today.

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She (I think it’s a she — but my ornithology skills are not what they used to be) landed on our neighbors’ fence and I managed to creep close enough to get a decent shot. Soon enough, she flew away,

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but only to another part of the fence. Nearer and nearer — shocked at how close I was getting. The other day, we saw one of them land in our back yard; it appeared to have a limp. “Maybe that is the hurt one,” K said as I moved ever close.

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To be able to get a shot like this of a wild bird — quite a rush.

She flew away just as I began to wax philosophical with my silly thoughts,

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gliding only a few feet above the ground, telling me the session was over.

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But what kind of bird?

A quick check in our National Audubon Society Field Guide to North American Birds–Eastern Region gives some hints, but it’s not until we ask the Internet that we get any kind of confirmation: a Red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensis), and I’m fairly sure it’s a a juvenile.

Yet we’re not convinced. Any ideas?

Growth and Stillness

Thursday 21 May 2009

I took a walk around our property to document the growth of our onions, radishes, tomatoes, potatoes, squash, melons, and flowers.

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Our hanging cherry tomatoes are growing wildly, though the experimental upside down one is hesitant.

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Our onions and radishes are onioning and radishing wonderfuly.

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Our squash has its first flower.

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And Bida is catching chipmunks and taking them into our basement, where they stop playing dead and hide in the piles of things stored in the corners.

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Anyone know how to catch a chipmunk?

Gardening

Monday 20 April 2009

We've planted our garden. Actually, that should be plural, because we're planting all over the place: some veggies in the back, some in the front.

Nothing we do will compare with Pani Barnas's garden in Poland. I live rented from her for a couple of years and every summer, she had a garden that amazed me.

Cabbage
Dream Garden || September 2, 2002 || Lipnica Wielka, Poland

"One day," I tell K, "one day we'll have a garden like this."

Then I go out to prepare our two small patches for planting. The next day everything aches in a most splendid way, and I think, "Why rush?"

Eviction Notice

Sunday 05 April 2009

He flew in with a beak filled with building materials, landing on our back deck banister. L saw him first.

"Tata! Look! A bird!"

We'll have to begin playing "I spy" soon.

The bird sat for a while on the railing, then flew into one of the juniper trees in our backyard. The ones which I'll drastically cut back at some point this spring, thus disturbing the bird, possibly spoiling a nest (though I'll do my best not to).

If only I could have reasoned with him: demolition work ahead. Best build elsewhere.

Planting

Saturday 04 April 2009

We planted our potatoes this week. I was worried because we didn't use "seed" potatoes. K insisted that organic potatoes would do just fine. Of course she's right: who's going to argue potatoes with a Pole?

We're growing them in large gardening buckets, with little to no soil. We're using mulch from leaves, compost, and more mulch/leaves on top. Will it work? We'll find out shortly.

L insisted on helping. "I do it!" is her motto of late, and we're certainly encouraging that helpful nature. Earlier this week, she helped make a salad, mixing the ingredients for the sauce ever-so-carefully.

Yet there are some things she'll be too small to do for quite some time.

By the time she's big enough to do this kind of work, she'll have her own list of chores.

How will we ever get her to do chores? Choice seems to be promising: like most people, L responds best to requests when given a choice. It's something that works wonders in the classroom as well.