May 07, 2010
In the Garden, May 7th
Filed under: Gothel's GardenDeath's come calling again and this time it's for Gary Balls (aka Denny's, Wuzza, Wazzle, Wiz Wham Bam, Wooshu, Miz Deniz, Miss Kiss Kiss Bang, Gary, Craig, Gary Craig Wuzza, Woosh, Wooshook, Wooshinka, Wooch, Werewooch and all of the other nicknames she's accumulated throughout her three year stay with us).
Both Italics and I are still reeling from shock; we haven't had a rat whose health declined this quickly in years (and years and years). Two and a half days ago she was her Wuzza self, and then within a half a day I was on the floor, crying, holding a rapidly weakening Woosh while Italics kept repeating "DON'T PANIC, WE DON'T KNOW FOR SURE". (I knew for sure, though. Death sees Death, it knows the look, the scent, the motionless agitation. Death knows itself.)
We're only starting day three of this chapter, but Wuzza already has the dreaded EUTHANIZE ME NOW, PLEASE look. I have a tendency to predict quick deaths (maybe I'm being optimistically pessimistic?), but those proclamations rarely follow through. (i.e., Shakey Bear who took over two months.) With Denny's plunging health I wouldn't be surprised if the dying process is unusually quick this time around. (A quick'n'fast death for a quick'n'fast rat who ran motherfucking circles around us when we first brought her home.)
For the past several days I've spent my morning breaking down the Walpurgisnacht altar item by item, but - for obvious reasons - I just don't have it in me to pop open the text file to chip away at that particular journal entry. (At least I'm actually working on that motherfucker, right? When's the last fucking time my ass got altar pictures up, let alone detailed explanations of said altar pictures?)
Even though it was partially cloudy (and I had already been up for something like 12 hours before even strapping my sneakers on) I decided to potter around outside in the backyard to help even out the weighted feeling of impending death. Just as I began sowing the clouds dissipated, the sun miraculously appeared and the bumblebees - mostly buff-taileds - made everything just a little more bearable.
PLANTED: another row of beets and carrots (along the side of the house where I grew garlic last year), a tray of lettuce, a tray of rocket, a tray of grazing mixture (for the rats), three long rows of peas, pumpkin (in the Shango Tree phallic worship altar), two containers of wheat (from the February pheasant), butternut squash, caveman gourds and seeds from the pinecone that decorated Midwinter's Yule Log.
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Normally I grow Papa tobacco in this container, but his black ass has so much fucking tobacco (due to previous years of growing) that I decided to take this year off. (He hasn't protested, probably because he's got more interest vested in the chili peppers and weed.)
Last year my wheat looked a little crowded so this year I split the seeds between two large containers. I haven't had a chance to sit down and dismantle 2009's didukh (it's an ancient Ukrainian thing; the last bundle of wheat that's harvested is ritually reaped and then decorated with a ceremonial embroidered towel and kept on an altar throughout Winter) so I ended up using the wheat kernels I cleaned out of a pheasant's crop.
If you look REALLY, REALLY CLOSELY you'll see fluff and tiny feathers floating around the dirt with the seeds. I deliberately added pieces of the roadkill pheasant - skin, fat, feathers - to the wheat kernels so when I planted them I'd be planting them with the bird's remains. When the seeds germinate they'll grow from the earthly remnants of the pheasant's physical body. (<- Life/Death cycle, anyone?)
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Mystery Phoenix Tree - MPT for short - has finally unfurled its leaves. It kind've sort've LOOKS rowanish (maybe walnut?), but it's still early days. At least it survived the winter and established roots. Getting to know this sapling is probably going to be one of the highlights of this agricultural year.
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My teeny tiny little dwarf Flava tulips opening up to the May sun.
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The lilies-of-the-valley are getting there, but the flower heads are still pea green instead of creamy, virginal white.
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Holy fucking shit! Three pink blossoms (on one of my dwarf apple trees)!
This tree was in a sorry fucking state when it arrived last year around Midspring (May Day / Beltane). I bought a fruit tree package deal - two different types of apple and one pear - and when my dwarf saplings arrived they were limp, wilting and covered in powdery mildew. We lost the pear and spent the majority of Summer trying to wrangle another one out of the company.
Had I known that one of my dwarf apples was even considering putting out flowers I so would've added a third ribbon around the phallic Paska that sat on our Walpurgisnacht altar. (<- I wrap the ribbons around my living, breathing "maypole" and once they've been blessed through various means I hang them from the branches of our fruiting trees for the duration of the agricultural year.)
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Two trays of Chippy's strawberries (grown from seed!) that need to be repotted into larger containers, peas (in the elongated plastic tub) and a tray of lettuce, rocket and "grazing feed" for the rats. (Or, uh, "rat", seeing as how Wuzza's time with us now is now nearing its end.)
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When I accidentally knocked our Yule Log off its crab holder (back in December) it dislodged a handful of seeds from the decorative pinecone. I saved the seeds - along with fragments from other parts of the Log (i.e., pine needles, mushrooms (fly agaric and bolete) and egg shell) - for 2010 planting.
I have not a fucking clue what I'm going to do with fucking pine trees, but I'll worry about that shit once I've actually got trees to worry about.
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It's May fucking 8th and there's discernible berries on my gooseberry bushes. (<- Maybe I'm just easily impressed, but that blows me the fuck away.)
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The other plastic container of pheasant crop wheat.
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A row of carrots and beets were planted in the long patch of damp dirt. I know it's an exercise in futility - since that part of the yard falls under "partial shade" - but if I could get just one amazing bunch of beets and carrots this year I'll be a happy fucking Ukrainian woman.
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The garlic growing in my sidewalk vegetable garden's getting bigger every day (although there's no signs of beets or carrots yet).
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We're still trying to figure out what to do with the goddamn bones of seven fucking rabbits. (Italics wants to somehow bury them beneath the house, I want to grind the bones up and make a witch cocktail of rabbit bones, Stone Cock fertility dirt and egg shells (I saved every fucking eggshell we used during Easter celebrations) and circle the house with the mixture.)
I spent a fucking month deliberating what I should plant this year in the phallic worship altar (I originally was going to plant our passionflowers at the base of the Shango Tree and train the vines upwards, but none of our plants survived the winter) and eventually went with something stupid and hopeful (instead of logical and boring): pumpkin.
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Plum blossoms on the Shango Tree.
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Plum blossoms on the not-the-Shango Tree.
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A new beginning? An early ending? I found a fragment of eggshell in my peach tree container.
Directly above the tree, just under the roof, there's a metal grate that leads into the attic. At some point something pecked a hole large enough to accommodate a small bird which makes me wonder if this house is playing host to a family of birds that live just above my immortality tree (which, by the way, has motherfucking leaf curl).
