Piper is ready for her circus act. I wish I could report happy news about the dozens of native herbaceous plants I have planted. Unfortunately, the local drought is 18 weeks in. Yes, I can spot-water, but apparently still have my gift for alternating between scorching or drowning the tiny green things. After watching our favourite little bunny polish off a small fortune one evening, it was BUY - either a shotgun or cloches. The echinacea which had three leaves when I bought it on June 18th sacrificed all three in early July to Peter R.; by dint of hard work on both our parts, it now has three leaves once more. If the weather holds, it will bloom for Christmas. Transparent cloches (thank-you Dollarama) do lend a quaint air to the garden, which now appears to be undergoing a medieval treatment for plague.
Still, the battle, I thought, was won. But someone was tall enough to clip off all of the Liatris flower stems. But who? Not squirrels or rabbits.
Then I caught a glimpse of a groundhog loping along our neighbours’ pool. She looked happy and plump.
All in all, in and around our home all hope of regular living has withered away. The dining room continues to host a large pen which summons visions of a medieval castle battlement for short people. Toys abound. I’ve lost count of the number of times we have fished her orange dental ball (you read that correctly) out from under the armoire while Piper tapped her paw. We are all dealing with puppy gates on every egress or ingress. They are solid-looking but actually light plastic and we are dead if she ever figures that out.
To further complicate footwork, our elaborate Fujitsu air conditioner/heat pump multi-system lost all three of its little minds at the first of the month; imagine Siamese triplets who can’t or won’t talk to one another. One has hogged all of the coolant and runs at 50 while the other two defiantly blow variations of warm air. There is an error code but after we waited three weeks to have a specialist come and fix said code, he had no inkling of what to do, mumbled an apology, and scuttled out. So now six tower fans grace the doors, bravely trying to circulate the cold air from the front bedroom. (We will order a new system in the fall. It won't be a Fujitsu.)
I pity the burglar who tries to negotiate our maze in the dark.
Piper grows more…well, more, every day; She is almost as big as Theodore, weighing in at 20 pounds to his 24. We think her ears account for most of that.
July's small acts of defiant survival would include Jon’s getting back to cycling and my writing this and finally finishing and wiring five paintings. There’s another which hasn’t gotten any further than my mind, but at least my visual brain is pregnant. See you at the end of August.
Still, the battle, I thought, was won. But someone was tall enough to clip off all of the Liatris flower stems. But who? Not squirrels or rabbits.
Then I caught a glimpse of a groundhog loping along our neighbours’ pool. She looked happy and plump.
All in all, in and around our home all hope of regular living has withered away. The dining room continues to host a large pen which summons visions of a medieval castle battlement for short people. Toys abound. I’ve lost count of the number of times we have fished her orange dental ball (you read that correctly) out from under the armoire while Piper tapped her paw. We are all dealing with puppy gates on every egress or ingress. They are solid-looking but actually light plastic and we are dead if she ever figures that out.
To further complicate footwork, our elaborate Fujitsu air conditioner/heat pump multi-system lost all three of its little minds at the first of the month; imagine Siamese triplets who can’t or won’t talk to one another. One has hogged all of the coolant and runs at 50 while the other two defiantly blow variations of warm air. There is an error code but after we waited three weeks to have a specialist come and fix said code, he had no inkling of what to do, mumbled an apology, and scuttled out. So now six tower fans grace the doors, bravely trying to circulate the cold air from the front bedroom. (We will order a new system in the fall. It won't be a Fujitsu.)
I pity the burglar who tries to negotiate our maze in the dark.
Piper grows more…well, more, every day; She is almost as big as Theodore, weighing in at 20 pounds to his 24. We think her ears account for most of that.
July's small acts of defiant survival would include Jon’s getting back to cycling and my writing this and finally finishing and wiring five paintings. There’s another which hasn’t gotten any further than my mind, but at least my visual brain is pregnant. See you at the end of August.
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