The need for integrating my pest management system

So my next door neighbor told me about a new garden pest. One recent night while she was writing, she heard violent rustling in the shrubs behind her fence. She said she wondered what kind of animal was back there, and decided to go see.

A man came out of the shrubs through a gap in the fence. He had some lame explanation about searching for his lost dog but he looked like he had either been sleeping back there or taking a dump. He bummed a cigarette off my neighbor and asked her about her marital status. She’s married, but he asked to see her ‘coochi’. [Oh, you mean my ‘chichi’ ruellia? There’s a good patch blooming in a garden down the street and around the corner. Bye.]

My neighbor is very brave and played it cool till he left. By the way, she didn’t describe about her garden dweller much but I don’t think he fit this appearance:

A guy I saw at the Texas Renaissance Festival

I have a management system for garden pests like my neighbor’s. It is 75 pounds of mutt named Plue. We did not bring him in for homestead security but he takes it upon himself. From time to time he makes himself a key pest. For example, I feel like nannies pushing strollers do not need to be evicted from our street but he does. A mail carrier told me Plue has the loudest bark he has ever heard from any dog, and I would guess that he is an authority on barking dogs.

(Photo taken by the Kid)

I don’t know how other people do it, but gardening with a dog this size and varietie(s) can be such a drag. He is not a puppy anymore so maybe I shouldn’t tell tails but I have not forgotten that he tore up 7 bags of fine compost directly over the new French drain. I haven’t forgotten that he excavated the drip irrigation system and added many, many more perforations. Part of the reason the back garden is nearly a wasteland is the recent garage construction, but part of the reason is Plue.

As I get the garden going again, I will be considering ways to integrate it with Plue. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure I can learn from the dog vs garden experience of the many garden blogs writers out there. And I will post my successes, if any.

Meanwhile, I have yet to find garden-lurking, cigarette-mooching pervs in my landscaping, and for this I say: Good Boy, Plue!

Broken Sidewalk Blues

Who says there’s no topography in Houston? It’s mostly in the sidewalks wherever they pass a live oak. The roots snap those 4" thick slabs of concrete like matzoh.

My own oaks are not as big as the one in the photo above, but they've already broken up the city sidewalk. I need my driveway repoured (ah, check back on this one—the driveway will be pervious pavement) so I reasoned that we should have the crummy existing sidewalk taken out at the same time.

The hitch is that I refuse to spend money and resources to replace the sidewalk with more concrete, only to see it broken up next year by the natural and expected growth of the trees.

I made nifty architectural drawings in plan and section showing how I would use my horde of salvaged brick, set on a bed of stabilized sand, to replace the sidewalk. I took the drawings to the Houston permit office. After sitting down to four different desks, I was directed to go away and call the City Forester. He would make an visit to assess my sidewalk for a variance. Alas, the City Forester was on vacation. It occurred to me that the standard American vacation allotment of two weeks sounded quite generous, at that time anyway.

Meanwhile, the masons who came to give estimates told me the City would nix my bricks. So I investigated which alternatives will actually get the blessing of the City. My dizzying array of choices is: decomposed granite gravel or a steel panel. Using either of these requires City Forester’s approval.

No problem, I thought. I worked out this scheme: I would get the decomposed granite gravel sidewalk, then after it passed inspection, I would scrape off the top inches and set my bricks in the gravel. I am telling you this now because it’s not going to happen at all.

The City Forester refuses to give variance because replacing the sidewalk here with anything other than more concrete is a “personal preference” and as such, irrelevant. Actually my personal preference is that pedestrians be safe on the sidewalk in front of my house, and the trees be healthy. Isn't it a peculiar policy to require homeowners to use concrete, obviously not a great material for the application?

Now I don't think my crummy sidewalk is too bad afterall. I’ll keep it.

Here Comes Hurricane Edouard

Okay! All the contents of my rickety potting shed, the plants in dangly baskets, construction site junk, and other light garden accoutrement are now stacked in the brand new garage. Cars will still be outside, due to shortage of a driveway.

One more thing remains. The portable toilet brought in for the construction workers is still here. The contractor tells me that maybe it will get picked up today, maybe not. Let’s assume not, so we can find the funny side to an impending storm. Want to guess which way the toilet will fall when the winds get up to 50 miles an hour? Will it fall over on Celeste the fig tree? Will it crash into the gate or on the car parked beside it? Will the Mister and I lash the outhouse to the fence, as an unplanned way to celebrate togetherness on our anniversary?

Check back for the results, which I will post when the power is restored! Not to spoil the anticipation, but I don’t think there is anything inside for the outhouse to spew when it blows over.

Tetanus Shot Boosts my Gardening Peace of Mind

It has long been on my list of things to do: go get a tetanus booster. If you have the basic set from childhood, you need a boost every ten years. Mine expired in the last century. Tetanus bacteria are in the dirt where we gardeners hang out, and they can get inside whenever you puncture yourself, like when you miss the rose stem and prune your compost coated knuckle.

My nurse friend Ms Erica has gruesome tales of terminal tetanus patients she encountered in Mexico, where many people don’t get immunized. She can entertain you during dinner with information about how bones break with the force of locked up tetanic muscles.

So this information was in my mind a last week when something odd started happening in my face. It felt like the sensation you get when you are sucking a lemon drop and someone makes you laugh. My cheek and jaw muscles were tightening on their own, once on Wednesday, then quite a few times on Thursday.

That fits the early symptoms of tetanus quite nicely, I found. I did not have any surface wounds of note, but I had done some volunteer pruning in a rank jungly garden where I just know I was thrashing around in every make and model of microbe. I wondered if it was just a matter of time until I developed the “sardonic smile” symptom, at which point I would definitely make a move toward the hospital. I pictured myself sardonically smiling as I said to the Mister: Can take me to the emergency room, now?

The next day came and went without any cheek misbehavior or further indications of tetanus. What caused that I do not know. However I took it as a hint and made an appointment at the clinic, and today I got my injection. It's just one shot in the upper arm, practically painless for me, and no achy complications so far. So my tale is rather anticlimactic, as I will not be one of the 60 people who develop tetanus in the US annually. I do hope that none of you will be either.