Monday, 22 June 2020
Allan went off boating today for the first time in months. He is writing a blog post about it, which will appear soon, possibly even next. (But don’t be disappointed if it’s not next… He doesn’t churn out blog posts as hastily as I do.)
Here are a few photos that did not fit into his blog narrative.
The Maritime museum in Astoria has a new pool for model boats.


He explained this radio controlled model cost only $80, ready to sail, and that they often have races. He tries to practice daily. Video narrated by bird calls here.

And on the tracks behind the Maritime museum, even though the bird was being photographed from afar, it still did its broken wing routine.



Later while paddling around a cluster of floating cabins on the Columbia River, he saw many flying birds. This one was returning to a piling in a cabin’s yard.

I stayed home, of course, and took the opportunity to spray paint all my decorative bamboo poles, a project that took most of the day, partly because I had misplaced the bag of spray paints I had bought for the lockdown back in March and had to tidy the garage to find them.



The hardest part is finding again all the rebar stakes that the poles slip on to. I did not manage to get them all back into place.
An interesting before and after…
Today, looking east from Alicia’s lawn:

And in 2014, in a photo that Becky Winters recently sent to me:


Meanwhile, next door, Alicia worked with another Becky, of Sea Aire mowing, after the mowing of the back meadow was done, to prune up a rhododendron into a tree like form.

We will be mowing the field from now on. By we I probably mean Allan.
I admired my Jude the Obscure rose…

…and another newish rose whose name I am too lazy to look up. I was tired so did not pick the black spot leaves off for the photos. I think the back of the flower is even prettier than the front.


My Veilchenblau rose is blooming much more successfully than usual, because the deer have not figured out how to break into the front garden. The rose is especially sentimental because I grew it from a cutting from the Seattle garden of Bryan’s mother, a cutting taken in about 1989.

Don’t read under the dotted line if you are squeamish.
****************************************************************
A big part of my daily life lately that I have not written about because I could hardly bear to think about it (but thought about it all the time) has been a bad fingernail injury. I don’t know how I did it, possibly pinching it while carrying two gallon pots in one hand, perhaps by tipping the wheelbarrow and hitting my finger on a post. I say OW! several times a day while gardening so why this happened now, I do not know. I won’t illustrate this with photos!
That evening, I noticed a bruise at the base of my left index finger. Since then, the nail has been slowly detaching itself from the base, discolored but without pain. I have been horrified. Ever since a day in my childhood when I suddenly realized there was soft skin under my fingernails and was distressed by the thought, I have been squeamish about nail injuries. Oh, I have been so unhappy. I kept it covered with a bandaid for probably two weeks, desperate to not have to look it, getting Allan to have a look when I changed the bandaid.
Eventually, the skin on my finger got so bothered about the bandaging that I had to leave the bandaid off. I was in floods of tears; by then the nail was half detached. Finally, finally, I managed to be a grown up and clip off some of the loose part. Gold star for me! That was after I imagined going to a doctor (during Covid time) and having him or her later tell people about the old lady who came in blubbering about her nail. (I couldn’t talk about it without crying. I have had surgeries and far more painful injuries without any tears, but this…)
Over my gardening career, I have learned a blister or cut on one’s hand can severely impact one’s gardening enjoyment. Now I am tougher about my half-there nail and have hardly cried in three days, but it still bothers me a great deal as it is only half way off. I leave it open to the air and wear a nitrile glove at work and keep my finger protectively curled in. I wrap a paper towel around it and tape it at night to avoid the bandaid problem. I put Vaseline on the nail bed to protect it. Like a boss.
Having decided to write about it, I will give you updates…under the dotted line.
Speaking of things under the line, the CHOP occupation with its community garden and speeches and art in Seattle seems like it may end in disillusionment. Seattle Black Lives Matter made a statement asking its members to focus on other Black led protests because the CHOP seemed to have lost its focus; a Seattle friend said it had turned into a block party. I don’t have enough facts to be an authority on the matter, and taking the Long Beach job back has been so tiring that I can’t go back and find the articles about it that I read a week ago. I do still hope that something good like a community center comes of it.
Read Full Post »