We Will Rise Up

We noticed this yellow Alstroemeria blooming on the north side of the house the other day.

That's not unusual; there are lots of other Alstroemeria plants in that flower bed.  What made it unusual was that it wasn't in the flower bed, but on top of the four foot tall chain link fence running between our house and the neighbors' house.  These plants only grow to about 18 to 24 inches tall.   It appeared to be growing out of the the Thunbergia vine that is growing up and over the fence.

I don't know what this Alstromeria plant is living on, or where it'g getting water, but it is surviving.

Maybe it's a metaphor for our times, a sign that when our own survival seems improbable that we can still not only survive, but even rise up.

A Tale Of Two Tomatoes

Cindy decided to experiment with her tomatoes this year by trying a Grow Box for some of them, and planting others in several of the raised beds.

Grow Box

The Grow Box is basically a planter box that incorporates soil and fertilizer above a water reservoir.  Cindy bought three of them and put two in front of the garage door, where they will get maximum morning sunlight, and one on the west side of our 100 gallon water tank.

Then she started planting the tomatoes she had started from seed and been raising in the mini-greenhouse behind the garage.

Seedling Tomatoes Ready to Plant

And the tomatoes started to grow.

Garage Grow Boxes With Optional Supports

And grow.

All the seedlings, both those in the Grow Boxes and those in the raised beds were looking sturdy and healthy.  As part of the experiment, she planted pairs in different places, one of a pair in a grow box and one in a growing bag in a raised bed to see whether there was any noticeable difference in how they grew.  All the plants were started from seed at the same time, exposed to the same amount of sun in the mini-greenhouse and planted in the same soil in both the raised beds and the grow boxes.

So, approximately three weeks from planting the seedlings, there is indeed a noticeable difference in the pairs of plants.

These are the plants of the Purple Bumble Bee Tomato from Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds.

Purple Bumble Bee in Raised Bed

Purple Bumble Bee in Grow Box

The plant in the raised bed is about 18 inches tall; the one in the grow box is approximately 32 inches tall and much bushier.  Same variety of plant, same soil.  The two possible differences are that the plant in the bag in the raised bed is on a drip watering system, while the one in the grow box has constant access to the water in the reservoir at the bottom of the box.  Cindy fertilized the one in the bag with her usual fertilizer, but used the nutrient patch cover that comes with the Grow Box.

Both plants are looking very healthy and already have blossoms forming, so in a few weeks we may have actual tomatoes from them to compare.

Finches Leave The Nest

We think the second of the four House Finch fledglings left the nest this morning; the first one seems to have left yesterday afternoon.  There were only two heads visible in the nest this morning when Mama bird was feeding them, and they both look like they still have some growing to do.

Old House Finch Nest

This photo is from a nest from two years ago.  The House Finches love this location on the beam that runs above our front porch because it's close to the birdseed feeder and the fountain in the back yard, and it's well protected from predators.

We had some Mourning Doves nesting there years ago.  They were not very good parents; they would just throw a few twigs on the beam and call it a nest, and one day one of the parents turned around and its tail feathers swept the chick right off the beam.  So we decided to discourage them from coming back by installing some plastic spikes along the top of the beam.  That seemed to work--they kept coming back for a while, but apparently couldn't figure out the spikes.  My stern lecture to one of the doves sitting on the porch railing about the need for them to be better parents if they chose to nest there again may also have influenced their decision to go elsewhere ("The neighbors are crazy people, Gladys, they talk to birds, we'd better go somewhere else.")

The House Finches are a different story, though.  Far from discouraging them from nesting there, the plastic spikes provided them with a means to secure their nest by weaving their twigs, pine needles and Asparagus Fern in and around the spikes for better protection and stability.

They are very good parents, with both parents maintaining a regular feeding schedule for all their chicks.  They stick fairly close to the chicks for a while after they leave the nest, apparently teaching them how to navigate the big world.  Several years ago we saw a mother House Finch trying to show her chick how to get seed from the feeder.  Junior wanted Mama to keep feeding him, but she apparently felt it was time for him to move on.  http://plantagarden-itllgrowonyou.blogspot.com/2014/07/mama-bird-and-junior.html.  

Thursday In The Park

We've been wanting to check out the Kate Sessions Park for some time, but weren't sure exactly where it was located.  Turns out that if you stand in the parking lot of Gelson's Market in Pacific Beach, where we often shop, and look up the hill, you can probably see it from there.

So, since our options for our Thursday Play Days are pretty limited with the Covid-19 restrictions, we decided to go for a brief walk in the park named for San Diego's pioneering botanist, Kate Sessions.  https://sandiegohistory.org/archives/biographysubject/sessions/.   Known as the "Mother of Balboa Park", she apparently recommended that the city reserve this 79 acre space as a city park.

View of Mission Bay

We wore our masks, but very few of the people we saw in the park were wearing masks, although they were, mostly, observing the social distancing requirements.

Most People Were Staying Apart

Although These Dudes Weren't

The view from the top of the hill toward the ocean was spectacular.

And then we spotted this fearsome creature.  Was it Sasquatch?  A Yeti?  An angry Grizzly Bear?   No, but I'm starting to feel a bit like a Sasquatch two months after my last hair cut.

Yes, I Really, Really Do Need a Haircut

But there was also this magnificent Jacaranda tree.

It was a very nice day, and a welcome change of pace.  We were out of the house but also staying safe.

Ansel

Our handsome boy Ansel crossed the Rainbow Bridge this morning.

He had shown up in our shrubbery about fifteen years ago, a skinny, shy ragamuffin of a cat who we would see only fleetingly before he ducked out of sight again.  We and other neighbors fed him off and on for about 18 months.  We decided to call him Ansel because of his black and white coloring, naming him after one of our favorite photographers, Ansel Adams.

We had discussed trapping him, at least to have him neutered, but assumed we'd have to release him back to the shrubbery because he seemed to be feral.  We worried about him all the time, especially when it was cold and rainy, wondering if he had a warm hidey hole somewhere.  And when the coyotes in the canyon would start yipping and howling at night, we'd wonder if it was Ansel they were pursuing.

We hadn't seen him for a while, but on Labor Day weekend in 2007 he turned up again, skinnier and more ragged than ever, but this time he had a big, gaping wound over his right eye.  We knew then that we had to trap him because even if he didn't die from the infected wound, he would probably lose the sight in that eye and be more vulnerable to cars, dogs and coyotes.

Shy and Wounded Canyon Cat

So, with the advice of the Feral Cat Coalition, the  local trap, neuter and release group, we put the Tomahawk cat trap we had bought months earlier out with a dish of food in it to try to trap him.  He was very interested in the food, but kept trying to go through the side of the trap to get to the food instead of going in by the door.  I finally had to resort to using a long thin stick to push the food to the front of the trap, then move it back to the other end when he finally followed it in through to door, then manually spring the trap when he was far enough inside.  He was definitely NOT HAPPY to be in the trap, and disliked cages, carriers or confined spaces forever after that.

But we had caught him and were able to get him to the vet to get the wound cleaned and stitched up, and get him neutered, too.  Because we thought he was feral and would have to be returned to the canyon shrubbery once he had recovered from the wound, the vet also clipped off the tip of his right ear to signify that he had been neutered so he would not have to be trapped again.  Since we had to continue to treat the head wound, we set up a big cage in our family room with the help of our friend Val Miller.  We had to let Ansel out to clean the cage and the second time that happened he strolled out, came over to me and jumped up in my lap and made himself at home--clearly not feral.

Ansel At Home

We found out later from a neighbor who was also our USPS mail carrier that Ansel had belonged to a woman who had since died, so we adopted him and he became an indoor kitty.  He quickly established himself as the Alpha cat in the household; he had to overcome the objections of Chutzpaw and the other male cats, but although Chuzpaw was bigger than he, Ansel had muscles and street smarts from his days as a canyon cat that helped him get the upper paw.  Ansel and Chutzpaw would launch themselves at each other, fur flying as they rolled on the floor in their mock battles for household supremacy; then they would sit up, lick their fur back into place and go about their business.

When we adopted two five month old kittens, Bailey and Jenna, a few years later, Ansel became their nursemaid and nanny, and he continued to protect them for the rest of his life.  Anybody who messed with his girls would soon have to deal with Ansel.

Jenna, Bailey and Ansel

He wasn't pleased when Princess Fairweather Daintypaws arrived in the house about two years ago; her agenda of achieving world domination through intimidation and outright conquest didn't sit right with him and he set about the task of teaching her some good manners and civilized behavior.  Part of the "civilizing" process included us taking the two of them for twice daily walks in the garden on harnesses and leashes for the last six months.  Both Ansel and Princess enjoyed the walks, although they usually each went their separate ways--for a while.  Then Ansel would show up wherever she was to check up on her and make sure she wasn't up to mischief.  Then he would go on his way to secure the perimeter of the property and maybe take a dirt bath to reassert his macho credentials.

Warm Pavement

Ooohhh, Love That Dirt Bath

Where Did She Go?  

He was a good cat, one of the best we've ever been privileged to have.