Monday, May 25, 2009

Impatiens, tree rats, and Carolyn


Carolyn planted several impatiens in a porch planter Monday last, and after a few days she decided the squirrels were not going to dig in them this year. When she got up Saturday morning, not one plant was left in the 24" long container; they were scattered on the porch and seven feet below on the driveway. Her tirade has changed little over the past 15 years except that "little devils" seems to be exclaimed a bit more. She saved all but one of the flowers; it had its roots eaten. She is threatening to plant some water iris and hope the rodents will eat them as they are poisonous when consumed; but she will not do so. The tree rats cause a lot of mischief, but they are also very entertaining. One thing she or I cannot understand is why our neighbors have had abundant irises growing and thriving for many years, but as soon as she puts the bulbs in the ground, they are dug up and eaten. Little devils.
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Memorial Day marks the beginning of summer for a lot of people in the US. Many will decorate graves of their war heroes and other family members and loved ones using cheap-made Chinese plastic flowers from K-Mart and other discount outlets. When I was growing up, decoration day as it was called was always the first Sunday in June which will be on the seventh this year. All the "flowers" used for adorning graves were made at home using crepe paper for blossoms and twisted wire for stems. It was one of the projects I enjoyed doing and in which I was allowed to participate. My grandmother, mother, aunt Ivy, and I would gather the materials on the kitchen table and sit around and make flowers until our fingers were sore. Every deceased person in the local family cemeteries whom were kin to us got at least a small bunch of flowers. They were stuck directly into the soil of the graves, and were good until the first rain; crepe paper is not waterproof. Later on, we began dipping the finished flowers in melted paraffin which offered protection from the elements for several weeks, although they came out of the wax looking sort of pale and ghostly. It has been about 50 years since I participated in the annual ritual of flower making, but if my fingers still worked anywhere near correctly and after a little practice, I believe I could still create them.

A tidbit of nostalgia: The pliers we used to cut the stem wire had belonged to my grandfather whom died in 1948. They were a small tool that electricians refer to as "side cutters". The pliers always were laughed over as we began using them, because they were the same ones grandpa made my uncles employ to pull his teeth when he had a toot ache.
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