From the archives: Moose!

pulled onto Jenne road at 8:15, a left turn. As I advanced down the narrow dirt path at perhaps 10 or 15 mph, something moved in my left peripheral. I slammed on the brakes, stopping Gemma (my car) in her tracks. At the same moment, the poor moose I had startled walked out of the bushes to the side of the car, just a foot from my front bumper. I sat very still, being slightly worried that the moose would get the idea that I was trouble and should be trompled.  

The moose had other plans. He (I’m assuming it’s a he. It was a moose of moderate size without antlers) started ambling down the center of the road in front of me, completely blocking passage by any way.

So I waited. And I waited. The moose butt in front of me continued to mosey and generally take its time getting down the road ahead. When it was a moose butt in the distance, I started scootching up, revving my engine a little to let him know I was there. 

Two big moose eyes and ears turned to look at me in a vague, moose-like approximation of indignation. I stopped and went back to staring at moose-butt. Finally he decided, of his own accord, mind you, to get off the road, and stepped delicately into some shrubs. 

As I pulled past the spot where he had disappeared I muttered under my breath in mild frustration: Meese.

Originally posted to a previous (now defunct) blog on August 28th, 2006. One of two moose-sightings I had while living in Vermont!

New Year, New Garden

fter a relatively successful summer of vegetables last year, this year I think I'll take a more studied approach. Well, somewhat more studied, really just building slowly on the last go-round and adding a few things. Mostly, I now have a large enough crop of compost to use for a bed or two, and I know how big those dang zucchini will get.

Unfortunately, this means I do need to dig a few new beds, possibly three or four. I already have a satellite view of the house to transform into a (to scale) chart of the yard in order to keep track of what was where which year. As most gardeners these days know, it's best to rotate which crop goes in what bed each year, so any pests don't get too cozy and the soil isn't depleted (can't find a good reference right now). I've heard lots of advice on keeping a garden journal of notes about each step of the process, how different plants fared, etc. Frankly, I didn't, it seemed like one more thing to do and for the first year, fine-tuning was not a big concern.

So, mapping aside, that leaves us with planning what plants and when. I'm still looking for a source for hops, sage and tarragon, seed or seedling, if anyone in the DC area wants to trade (I get most of my seeds from Johnny's Selected Seeds).

As you'll see below, quite a few things need to germinate indoors as long as eight weeks before the last frost (early April in Alexandria). My google calendar is now laden with "PLANT CANTALOUPE" and such. I'm going to try out a grow light this time as my seedlings got a little too sperky* last year, even on a South-facing windowsill. This does mean that I'll also need some sort of heat source underneath my seedling trays. Although the basement is a pretty regular temperature, it's only around 65F and seeds prefer something more like 68 or 70.

Anywho, I've put together this little chart for my own benefit, but thought it might be of use to some other backyard gardener. Feel free to copy the format or just get inspiration. Click the chart to see it full-size in google drive and to copy or peruse further.

*I grew up using this word and only recently encountered several people who said "What?! 'Sperky'??" It means what it sounds like. Don't suppose anyone else uses it?

Another ode to bicycling

here must be a storm out at sea, on the bay, over bigger water. The field at Gravelly Point is speckled with seagulls, round white spots on the lush green (it's already been raining)(like golf balls). A single gull hovers in the wind over the trail, bored with picking through the grass. Every once in a while one of them cries out, that sound that puts me on the beach, on sand, in salt breeze. The roaring silence of wind in my ears is harshly broken by the roaring noise of jet engines overhead, a larger bird taking off, banking against the wind. Some of the gulls startle and scatter into the air en masse to land a few feet away. False start. A lone jogger jogs by, similarly startled to find this place so differently populated. Il n'y a pas des gens aujourd'hui, seulement les mouettes et le vent.

Moths and coincidences.

Yesterday I found this moth lying against the curb on the sidewalk in Dupont. I thought he was gone from this world, and tried to at least move him to a happy resting place in the grass just over the curb, but as I slid the magazine under him he flapped and jumped an inch in the air before coming down to rest again. It took about five minutes to get him to hold still on my magazine, and then, as I went to lower him onto the grass, he took off and flew away across traffic to some rooftop. I never thought I'd see one of these in downtown dc. The distance from one wingtip to the other was maybe 5 inches.

Then, a block away, as we walked to the corner to cross the street, I noticed a man who looked a bit familiar. There being a lot of people in DC, I assumed he was just another face, but after 30 seconds of awkward and mutual staring, he said "Marlboro? ...Elli??" Yup, I managed to be on the one street corner in the whole city where I could run into the former Marlboro Math Fellow who came from England to teach for two years. He just happened to be in DC after leaving VT and before going on wherever else in the world he was going. It's a very very small world, sometimes.