The Desert Mermaid

Bah. I was GOING to go out today and do some planting in my garden--god the beans need to get started, and I only have half my tea herbs in the ground--but instead I have been flattened by allergies. So we're going to amend today's activity to sitting INSIDE and playing Zelda.

It always surprises me just how FEVERISH hayfever can make you feel. I mean, I guess it's in the name, but I mostly expect an itchy, runny, sneezy face. The malaise is never nice to be reminded of.

Maybe tomorrow I can get those beans going!

Did some gardening yesterday. The nice thing about gardening on a mountainside--at least when the garden is lower down the mountain than your driveway--is that when you're hauling bags of fancy farm dirt down to your plot, you can let gravity do most of the job. I lug 'em down to the backyard and then just pitch them down the couple of terraces to my plot, cutting the Gordian knot of going around the fence and down several flights of stairs of varying stability and levelness. I suppose if I had any plants down there that'd be a bad plan, but as it is currently just dirt, I figure I'm pretty safe.

Also, about a fourth of my plot is at a 45-degree angle in order to hold up those terraces, which makes soil-turning, root-yanking,* and compost-spreading into a serious exercise in spade- and rake-wielding parkour. It's ... well, it's interesting.

The plan this year is to try out the old Corn, Beans, 'n' Squash gardening style, with mounds for the corn and the squash. I'll probably wind up doing some marigolds and nasturtiums and sunflowers, too, because they are good companion plants and also the sunflowers can act as bean poles! I also have a blank spot on the side of the little deck Dad built where I'm gonna try to do a tea herb garden. Mom's taking care of the tomatoes. And of course Dad's doing the grapes.

I have been trying to drill into Dad that we do need some dandelions growing this year. One of my soda books has a great-sounding recipe for Dandelion Not-Wine. If I can keep Dad from getting weed-whack-happy, I should get a pretty good crop.

Of course, it's supposed to snow in the next couple of days, so gardening might take a break for a while. I'm okay with that. Hauling those compost bags was enough for now.


*The terrace above mine has a line of aspens. Quaking aspens are beautiful trees, but good lord their various reproductive strategies seem designed to make gardening as difficult as possible. They have fuzzy catkins that glow ethereally in sunlight, but they sure do make a mess in the garden. And that's not even mentioning the tentacular root colonization. They wish to crush the world in their woody grip.

Dad built me a deck!

He says it's for me, but I suspect it is also self-interest. It's right on the edge of my garden, anyway. And while the construction process was a bit awkward, what with Dad's tendency to stomp all over my garden and to assume that the sight of him building a deck is so enthralling that Mom or I ought to sit out there and watch him spend 8 hours fiddling every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.* Also, he suggested I put pots of geraniums on it, to which I casually noted that there are other plants I'd prefer, which apparently translated to "I HATE GERANIUMS AND ALSO FUCK YOU," so yeah, communication has been an issue.

But there's no denying that it was needed. Not so much the deck part, but the steps leading off it into my garden. The previous stairs were so warped that they were starting to look sort of Eschery, and it's hard enough to garden at a mountainous angle without the complication of nonEuclidean geometry. Not to mention the ever-present threat of tibial fractures.

So I am glad he did it. And it's a very nice deck, with fake redwood boards and copper accents. And I can put some plants on and around it! Just not geraniums, dammit. I am apparently remaining firm on that point. Go figure.


*Astute readers might wonder why I say "watch" and not, perhaps, "help." You are right to wonder, but I will explain: Helping would not work so well--both because I don't understand how to make cooperation happen, and because Dad is so insanely meticulous that even if you do try to help you largely wind up watching him check and recheck his math until one of you passes out from heatstroke.

Hoo, busy weekend!

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It turns out a pitched roof doesn't do much good if it connects to a flat awning over one's deck. The entire back half of the thing is sagging dangerously, and it's going to take money--a whole lotta spending money!--to fix it. In a stunning development, our homeowners' insurance is actualy going to pay for some of it. And as long as they're rebuilding anyway, they're going to throw in some skylights for free! Maybe the lighting in my house will actually improve!

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Went to a Passover seder this weekend at Kate'n'Matt's. I had never been to a seder before. I am really not the sort you would normally invite to a seder unless you are exceptionally laid-back. Fortunately, Kate'n'Matt and their other Jewish buddy are exceptionally laid-back, so it was in the nature of a fun dinner party with some tradition tossed in. Also it was vegetarian, and Kate is a great vegetarian cook. Once we got to the part where we can actually eat, it was delicious.

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Finally got some new soil worked into my garden and planted some beets and radishes and carrots, with the assistance of an enthusiastic three-ish-year-old neighbor who has been acting as local anecdotal evidence of the existence of Einstein Syndrome. Until a few months ago the little guy only communicated with squeaks and shrieks, when most two-to-three-year-olds are progressing from two-word telegraphic speech to full sentences. Then one day apparently his brain was all "Hey: WORDS!" and suddenly he went from little squeals to being full on motormouth. He narrated the whole time he scooped dirt and planted seeds and watered the garden and, I think, suggested mixing concrete in with the dirt to make a skyscraper. I ... I may have created a monster.

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So, yes, it's lovely and summery out, and it is marred only by the fact that our next-door neighbors are AWFUL dog owners. They like to leave their stupid fucking pit bull* out on the back porch so that he can launch into a thousand years of barking every time something startles him, such as when a stiff breeze blows through the backyard or a moth lands on the side of the house. You would think this would be an easily solved problem--"Hey, your dog barks his fool head off whenever you're gone, here, I even printed out some tips on how to train him to not do that, thanks"--but these neighbors, like so many bad dog owners, are also terrible people, and a casual suggestion that maybe they should actually pay some attention to their dog results in DECLARATIONS OF WAR. Do not get me STARTED on the Saga Of This Goddamn Fool Dog. It's a tale retold many times in bad sitcoms. I wish it would stay in them.

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But it is so NICE out! I may just head out and climb a tree. Maybe take along my notebook, get this stubborn installment of Scatterstone worked out (it's a great installment, so by god I gotta get it RIGHT!). Or maybe I'll just noodle around on my ocarina. If that dog's gonna bark, I might as well give him something to bark ABOUT.


*SPECIAL NOTE TO PIT BULL APOLOGISTS: I am sure there are lovely pit bulls in the world! I expect they have responsible owners and are themselves the very essence of dog urbanity! There are certainly pit bulls out there with intelligence and poise and the ability to not bark like incessant car alarms! THIS PIT BULL IS NOT ONE OF THEM.

Dad got me a nice little garden tools kit for my birthday! All the garden stores were snotty about the fact that it’s, y’know, autumn and gardening is ostensibly over, but he figured it’d be a great start for next year, and we’ve been having a good time gardening together.

Plus, I’ve already started planning for next year anyway. I was less pleased with The Farm this year for a number of reasons. Some I can control, like weeding, watering regularly, use of space, soil, and some bunny activity;* some is out of my control, like the weather, the rest of the bunny activity, and Dad’s inability to distinguish weeds from chard when he’s weed-whacking. So I’m working out a plan of attack for next year, armed with my nice new gardening equipment!

I want to start growing more herbs for tea. It’d be fun to have a few herbal remedies on hand,** though mostly I just want to try making my own tisanes. I did make one discovery while looking through herb books, though—apparently the little daisy-looking flowers that keep popping up in my garden are feverfew. I’m off to a better start than I thought!

Anyway, I may have gotten a somewhat lackluster yield this year,*** but I can always look forward to fixing it up for next year. Meanwhile, I’ve got some more tomatoes to pick.


*I’m still terribly pleased that the bunnies are enjoying my garden, but I’m still putting most of my beans in cages next year.

**Although learning herbal remedies is complicated by the fact that there’s no end of bullshit surrounding herb lore. It’s hard to sift through the latest fads in everything from love potion to cancer to find the science.

***Cherry tomatoes notwithstanding. THEY’RE EVERYWHERE.

Hey, look! I have a pet bunny!


My dandelion crop over by the fence is doing almost as well as the calendulas!

And by “pet bunny” I mean “wild bunny who thinks my garden is delicious.” Which is entirely correct: My garden is delicious.

If I were really depending on this garden, I would take steps to protect it—chicken wire, rabbit deterrent, chasing varmints around with a pitchfork, etc..* But as it is, I am thrilled that somebody’s getting some use out of it. I have considered asking it not to go after the beans like a pair of furry little hedge clippers, but I think I’ll let that be, too. It’s always good to do one’s part for the food chain.


*Probably I'd also weed it more thoroughly, but I like dandelions. They get their own place to the side.

No, this is not snow. Take a closer look.



There are some disadvantages to all these lovely cottonwood trees blowin' in the wind. A lot of librarians alternately sneezing and swearing, for one thing.

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My own garden is primed and ready to go. The radishes and parsley are already having a great old time, the strawberry is blooming, tha calendulas are turning into weeds, and you can see some of the little seedlies that will turn into carrots chard, and spinach.

Since I took this picture a couple days ago, I've stuck in a couple of tomato starts, a couple pepper starts,* and a bunch of marigolds. If it's anything like last year, this sparse-ish patch of dirt will start looking pretty green in just a few weeks. At least, I hope so!



My first radishes! See the pink ones? This is a blend of Easter egg and red radishes. Because, you know. RAINBOWS.

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So it's ben getting warmer around here, balmy and breezy, and I have had to face facts: my fuzzy winter shoes have turned from cozy, soft winter protection to the Red-Hot Iron Shoes From Hell. Clearly, I needed a pair of sandals.

ME: I need some sandals.

REI Lady: What kind?

ME: I need some that'll support a lot of walking, and I need closed toes.

REI Lady: What are you planning to do with them?

ME: Work in a library.

REI LADY: …

ME: Ever run over your foot with a book truck? You need some structure there.

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I made this necklace last year. It's a net weave of seed beads and irregular freshwater pearls. The closeup didn't turn out, so I'll have to snap a better shot, but it looks pretty good just like that, don't it?


*I'm trying to start my own from seeds, but I am still rather bad at it. Better safe than sorry, sez I.

So this weekend Dad was off call, which means he was hard at work apparently booby-trapping the backyard. He's replacing some of the more rotten railroad ties holding our house on the mountain, and he got about halfway through replacing a couple of the stairs. WHICH I DIDN'T KNOW, so when I wandered down to check out my garden I stepped on a loose tie and did a full-on slapstickly pratfall. Twisted up my leg and landed right on my ass bone. Now I'm all bruised and all those bits of muscle and tissue in my leg are protesting the sudden stretching they got.

This is what I get for gardening at a 45-degree angle.

I'll get back at him, though. I'll turn the sprinklers on one day while he's messing around in his fledgling vineyard. Or I'll just move one of his stakes slightly to the left--that'll bug him at least as much.*

In other garden news, my radishes sprouted! Fittingly enough, one of the varieties I've planted is called "Easter egg." Nicely timed, radishes.

Anyway. That's some gardening news for you. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go sit on a cold pack.


*OCD Vineyards: We guarantee each bottle is made with EXACTLY 500 grapes!

The regularly scheduled freak October blizzard came about two weeks early this year. The pumpkins are unimpressed, but that might be it for the tomatoes. And the cat has been absolutely letting us have it, grumbling and carrying on about the cold and the wet. I think she thinks it’s our doing.

And it never fails: I look out at the first snow of the year and get a surge of happy chemicals in the brain.* What’s with that? I swear I’ve got some kind of reverse-SAD or something.

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Book club discussed Song of the Lioness! At least, I think that was a discussion. We’re not exactly a group of real conversationalists. I chatter on about books, then try to let others get a word in edgewise or engage them by asking questions, which usually gets mumbled responses, followed by awkward silence. So I fill the silence with more noise and t turns back into a monologue.

I like them, though. I just wish we could talk a little less awkwardly.

(I did get to traumatize them by telling them how the Narnia books ended. By request, of course.)

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Latest fun topic of research for writing: pregnancy and childbirth. My Playtime Universe presented me with another story idea, but the timeline means that one of the characters will be very pregnant when it takes place. I figured that wouldn’t slow down her determination any (she's awesome like that) and it’ll actually make the story a lot more entertaining if I can swing it. I dunno, the idea of a pregnant hero in a swashbuckling pirate adventure amuses the hell out of me.

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Also, still into Raygun Gothic for my latest project, and decided to finally watch Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow. I’ve wanted to see it, but the blinding sepia tone put me off. Now that I’m watching it, I still dislike the filter something fierce—I realize it was meant to echo the sci-fi serials, but prefer my old-timey future to be bright primary colors, deco pastels, and crazy halogen neons, a la Frank R Paul, and I have the feeling if they could have made them in color, the ’30s would have agreed with me. The special effects are updated to match what was in the people's heads; why not the colors, too?

Also, Jude Law really isn’t the Spaceman Spiff type.

But goddamn, the story is spot-on pulp sci-fi, damn fun and totally entertaining. I keep squeaking with happy when I see the giant robots marching, or the ridiculously implausible airplanes diving into the sea, or the big goofy monsters,**or the amphibious jet packs, or Giovanni Ribisi's gratuitous Actual Raygun. The vintage ads were a nice touch, too. And this marks the first time Gwyneth Paltrow worked for me, so hey—I can deal with sepia for that.

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Smashed my pinkie with a book truck today. It hurts to type. So I’m gonna stop now. Off to play Zelda.

*Also an equally inexplicable overwheming urge to play Zelda games.

**Another improvement over the old serials: the critters can actually be in the shot with our heroes, and don't appear to be occupying some parallel dimension.

It’s been a bit dodgy trying to weed the garden the last few days, what with the way I start out under a blazing sun and then fifteen minutes later a thunderstorm rolls in. But hey, at least I don’t have to water it!*

The tomatoes continue their world domination plan, and I’ve got some pole beans along for the ride now. Even the corn is starting to cornify. And the other kind of pole beans, the ones that are still red flowers, are attracting hummingbirds! I wound up hanging out with one the other day as it hovered around being all RED IS THE BEST FLAVOR. I always liked the hummingbirds when we’d put out the feeders on the deck back in the day,** so it’s nice to see them around again.

I am having more fun with this garden. Makes me wish I’d started one years ago!


*I don’t mind watering—I just turn the sprinklers on—except for the nagging anxiety that I’ll forget to turn it back off, and the next thing I’ll know Al Gore’s hired goons will smash down my door with a Shop Vac and suck all the moisture out of my body to replace what I wasted.

**Especially since they haven’t yet figured out that they are tiny. Somewhere in that genetic memory is the knowledge that their ancestors were Tyrannosaurus rex or Utahraptor, and they are pretty sure they still look like that only now they can fly. So if you normally have a hummingbird feeder out and neglect to refill it, you will have a bird the size of your thumb hovering in your face all, BITCH WHERE’S MY DINNER? It’s hilarious.