they're alive . . . aliiiive!

Despite a ridiculous amount of rain (or maybe because of it) several pumpkin plants have emerged and are looking quite sturdy.

Fingers are crossed for a successful year.

Dr. Franklin's brilliant idea

Still on the subject of the miserable summer weather (it's cloudy and drizzly yet again today), I got to thinking. Wouldn't it be nice to have one's own weather control device? Something to make the sun shine when you wished. The rain fall when you wished (preferably overnight). The crisp breezes of autumn arrive when you wished.




Much like the device invented by that OSI outcast of the 70's: Dr. Franklin. Of course, I would use my weather control device only for good. Never for evil. And I wouldn't build any Fembots.




Unless it was close to Halloween.

horror of party beach

It has been an unusually cold and wet spring and early summer. Complaints about the miserable weather have been emanating from all directions. Farmers have had to delay planting many crops. Shorts-and-T-shirt days have been few. And with July just days away, the water is still too cold to even consider swimming.

But perhaps it's time to push aside the negativity and focus on the positive.

Perhaps it's a good thing that it's too cold for the beach.

blank canvases

I took advantage of last weekend's sunshine to venture out onto the deck/workshop and begin to play with cheesecloth and glue. And I'm glad I did. Because Sunday night, the rain began again, and it still hasn't stopped. Although sunshine has been promised for later today.





On a brighter, and drier, note, I have four blank canvases of cheesecloth mache ready to be built upon.

farewell procrastination

I've got a bottle of glue. I've got sunshine on the deck. I've got a gentle breeze blowing.

The workshop is open for the season.

return of the spiders

I've noticed that clusters of spider eggs around the outside of my house have begun hatching. Welcome back, my friends. Welcome back.

visions of vertical pumpkins

Today is the day. The day on which I embark upon my third consecutive year of pumpkin gardening. Admittedly, June 5th is a late start. But it's been a late spring. A cold spring. And I wanted to be sure the threat of frost had truly passed. I take no chances with my pumpkin seeds.

Anyone familiar with the often tragic tale of my pumpkin-growing adventures will recall that the first year was an unmitigated failure. With lovely flowers, but no lovely pumpkins. Zero pumpkins.

Then, last year, in a determined effort to learn from my mistakes, I moved the location of my pumpkin crop from the back yard to the front yard. Where it would have the benefit of more sunshine. And the benefit of an exceptionally warm and sunny summer. The result was seven pumpkins. Seven small pumpkins. But seven pumpkins, nonetheless.

The only drawback to growing pumpkins in the front yard was the way in which those pesky vines tended to grasp anything in their path and not let go. Including the grass on my lawn. I knew that pumpkin vines would spread, but I was taken aback at just how tenaciously they held on to the surrounding vegetation. I had envisioned simply lifting the plants and mowing the grass around them. But no. My pumpkin vines wouldn't hear of it. So the lawn remained unmowed for a few months. I began to develop a reputation in the neighbourhood.

This year, I am employing a third strategy. Hoping for at least the moderate success of last year's crop and a vine-free front lawn, I will be attempting to grow pumpkins vertically. Using my veranda as a support. I am optimistic. I have visions of thick, healthy plants and huge orange gourds gracing my front porch throughout the summer and into the fall. But while I've been assured that vertical pumpkin-growing is indeed possible, I worry that the pumpkins might grow too large and heavy and simply snap off before maturity.

Then again, if the sizes of last year's pumpkins are a reliable predictor of this year's success, I likely have nothing to worry about.