The Crowded Garden

Sometimes gardeners get so excited when they have a new space to work with that they just want to grow everything at once.  There’s something to be said for instant gratification, but try to remember to leave enough space for your plants to grow to their full size.  There’s nothing more difficult to maintain than an overly intricate garden that has to be pruned and thinned constantly.  I recommend establishing the main feature plants of your garden first, and then while you are waiting for them to reach maturity, fill in the gaps with wildflowers that are easy to grow from seed.  It really is a lovely effect.  Be sure to pick out wildflowers that are appropriate for your zone.

SAVE ME, SAN FRANCISCO!

Listen.  Don’t move to Seattle.  Please.  People invariably come to visit in the summertime and they are charmed by the beauty of the place on a sunny day and immediately start making plans to move there.  Then they get there and find out that for the other nine months of the year we are completely immersed in a dense cloud cover and drenched in freezing rain, hail, and sleet, you can’t wear nice shoes because they will get muddy and ruined and your entire wardrobe has to shift from leather and suede to Polarfleece and Goretex.

If it does actually snow, it will then turn to ice and you can’t drive in it because of all the hills and the buses go sliding sideways, killing all the pedestrians on the sidewalks.  (I heard last year’s pedestrians-hit-by-bus death toll approached 4,000.  The mayor’s office suppresses these figures, but I know for a fact there is a watery mass grave of victims under the 520 bridge span that goes through the Arboretum.) 

Visitors naively take the elevator to the top of the Space Needle, the only tourist attraction in town, completely unaware that HUNDREDS of people have fallen off of that thing to their untimely deaths while their poor little children look on.  (The Space Needle doesn’t report these figures, of course, because it would be bad for business.)  I was momentarily upset with a tour guide on a Harbor Tour boat who described the Space Needle as “an amazing waste of space,” until it suddenly dawned on me that he was doing us all a HUGE favor.  If you must go to the top, pack a parachute.

And obviously something about the climate and the topography conspire to create maniacs.  We have more serial killers per capita than all of the industrialized planets combined.  (Read Ann Rule's book about Ted Bundy, The Stranger Beside Me, to really freak yourself out.)  It has become such a regular pastime of Seattleites that, in addition to the Preschools for the Performing Arts and Massage Therapy that have become popular, there is a new chain of Preschools for the Proliferation of Serial Killing opening up this fall.  Nowadays, when you go for a walk in the woods with your dog, you’ll even see dispensers for biodegradable body bags at the trailheads next to the poop sacks.

Seattle is home to corruption and graft and always has been.  The streets are filled with the dregs of society.  We even coined the term “skid road” to describe our nicest neighborhood.  (Reading Skid Road by Murray Morgan right now.  It makes me wonder if us non-Native Americans really have any right to be there at all.)

Clinical depression in Seattle is a constant battle for those who move here from out of state.  The gloomy weather brings everyone down, and to top it off they all start using drugs to lift their spirits, which just makes matters worse.  To quote my old friend, Brian Miller, “Being a heroin addict in Seattle is totally redundant.”  Most people have to purchase special Happy Lamps to combat their Seasonal Affective Disorder.  And I don’t think they even work, because people still complain about the weather.  I mean, if you move to Seattle, don’t complain about the rain!  It’s like me moving to the desert and complaining that it’s too hot.  Which of course it is, but I knew that coming in!

Finally, if I hear one more out of towner complain that Seattleites aren’t friendly, I’m gonna punch him and his elderly mother right in the nose. 

So, for anyone who is considering a move to Seattle and you haven’t actually spent an entire winter there yet, please take this advice from a native:  consider San Francisco instead!   It’s just as pretty, if not more so, is way more gay, has the bay and the hills and all the fresh seafood and Chinese food you can stand, the traffic is just as bad, has warm sunny days because you are in California, and then the fog rolls in to cool you down so you feel like you are in Seattle without actually having to live there.

There are enough earthquakes to keep you on your toes, just like Seattle, but you don’t have to worry about the volcanoes.  They have real beaches where you can surf, not sand spits covered in stinky clams.  It’s more cosmopolitan and sophisticated and best of all, it’s even more expensive, so your friends will be doubly impressed.

And it that doesn’t float your boat, try Portland.


(Wow!  Don't you love how you can find almost everything on Amazon?!)

THIS IS TOTALLY PHOTOSHOPPED.  IT NEVER LOOKS LIKE THIS. ASK ANYONE.

This is more like it.

Original material © 2011 betsylolafalanadowling.blogspot.com, Brain Fuzz & Betsy Dowling, All Rights Reserved

Credit for image of Space Needle pending research.

Image of rainy Seattle by Melanie Connor for The New York Times. 

The Garden of Good and Evil

In my last Seattle garden, I had a wickedly evil plant called a Voodoo Lily.  It was beautiful and grotesque at the same time.  It would come up in the Spring and when the gigantic blossom finally opened it reeked of rotting flesh.  Apparently this flower pollinates not by attracting bees with a sweet smell, but by attracting flies with a horrific stench.  It was a volunteer plant on the south side of my house near the gate to my back garden, so I left it there to stand stinky guard against anyone who had evil intentions of entering my back yard.  (We didn't live in a very safe neighborhood.)  Ironically, it bloomed at the same time as my humongous star jasmine vine.  When you sat on the back porch the combination of smells was confusing.  At first you would feel like you'd entered a garden of paradise.  But if you sat there for too long you just wanted to hurl.

Voodoo Lily

Well, for some not completely explained reason, Google AdSense has terminated my account with them.  No warning, no clear explanation.  Perhaps they didn't like my content?  Too bad.  I used to really like Google.  Anyway, they say there was "invalid click activity" on my account.  When I talked about the ads on my page in a previous post, I didn't mean for everyone to click away like crazy!  Oh, well.  I submitted an appeal and they still terminated me.  Live and learn.  In the meantime, it looks like my Amazon Associates account is still in good standing, so let's see what we can buy today...

Oh, this looks good!  The Lucifer Effect - Understanding How Good People Turn Evil.

I will continue to write this blog and try to find other sponsors.  I have so much to tell you about and I'm really enjoying making you laugh!

(By the way, love love love John Cusack...

... but did you read the book???)

Is there still hope for us, John?

Original material © 2011 betsylolafalanadowling.blogspot.com, Brain Fuzz & Betsy Dowling, All Rights Reserved
Image of John Cusack in the film Serendipity directed by Peter Chelsom from www.imdb.com
Image of Voodoo Lily courtesy of Rural Ramblings blog:  http://www.ruralramblings.com/voodoo-lily-magic

Technology in the Modern Garden

Here in the desert you have to think a lot about water.  There's not very much of it.  The most difficult thing for me to wrap my head around when I was in Landscaper School at the Desert Botanical Garden (www.dbg.org) was the concept of irrigation.  Being a Northwest Native, I'm used to just digging a hole, sticking the plant in the ground, and waiting for it to rain.

Now, I'm really not a stupid person.  Dumb, but not stupid.  So when I'm having trouble with a concept, I like to immerse myself in it.  Therefore I began volunteering at the Garden in the Irrigation Department and now I totally get it.  (Please don't tell anyone that I know how to do irrigation repairs - it's not really my bag.)

What impresses me the most is the modern-day control boxes.  I recently repaired a residential irrigation system for a client, and she needed a new control box.  I was very pleased with one of Rainbird's boxes.  Clearly they are the industry leader for a reason.  This one is totally idiot proof!  (We found it at Home Depot, but guess what - Amazon has it too!) The only drawback is it doesn't have a cover, so if you are using it outdoors you have to install it in a weatherproof box.

Oh, I am so ashamed.  I have failed as a mother.  All of my best laid plans were for nothing.

Long before I started a family, even long before I got married, I had decided that I would keep those God-forsaken video games out of my house.  I can't stand them!  Never could.  And it's not just because I had a bad experience in college when a blind date abandoned me in a pizza parlor and I finally found him in the back of the restaurant playing Ms. Pac-Man all by himself.  Loser.

My personal experience with video games ended with Pong.  I much prefer real life table tennis.  There's nothing like the real ping and the real pong to get your adrenalin rushing.

So anyway, I'm afraid my much younger first husband (loved him dearly, always will) introduced our son to video games at the tender age of four, much to my chagrin. (Now you have a hint as to why we divorced.)  And not only did he introduce him to video games, he introduced him to a "first person shooter" war game.  And then he couldn't figure out why our son was becoming violent.  It took some explaining, but he finally got the picture.

Of course I realize there's no way I can completely avoid video games.  And if want my son to be able to compete in the modern world he needs to know how to play them.  Heck, for all I know, he may become a video game designer someday and become stinking rich.  I am quite aware that they are designed to be addictive, so nowadays I allow my son to play up to half an hour of video games in a day.  I'm delighted when a whole day goes by and he hasn't asked for it.  And I have this (unreliable) theory that if he plays one "nice" game, then a "mean" game, and chases it with another "nice" game, then maybe he won't grow up to be Hitler.  (Although now that I think about it, maybe if Hitler had had video games it would have distracted him from marching into Poland.  Hmmm...)

Imagine my surprise and amusement when I overheard my now six year old son playing a video game on the computer recently:  "Mommy, I need to evolve!  I need to evolve quickly!"  I thought to myself, "You got that right."  But then I got curious.  Turns out he was playing a game called Age of War.  Here, verbatim including misspellings, are the game instructions:

Age of War

The goal of the game is to survive and destroy the ennemy base.

The game is divided in 5 ages.  To move to the next age, you need Xp points.  To gain these points, you have to kill ennemy units.  You also gain Xp points when one of your units is killed.  You can also build defences.  Finding the balance between defence and offence is the key.

You will also be able to use a special attack.  This attack will need time to be available again after you use it.  Each age have its own special attack.

You cannot repair your base, but it will gain health points everytime you evolve to the next age.  Protect your base at all cost!

Click here to return to the menu.

Oy vay.  Time to go read a book.  How about a little Maurice Sendak?

I'm afraid I still don't understand the appeal of video games when real life is beckoning at your front door.  But I'm not going to immerse myself in it.  Too busy figuring out everything else.

Rock on.

 © 2011 betsylolafalanadowling.blogspot.com, Brain Fuzz & Betsy Dowling, All Rights Reserved

Inspiration for your Garden

"The word paradise is derived from the ancient Persian - 'a green place'.  Paradise haunts gardens, and some gardens are paradises.  Mine is one of them.  Others are like bad children - spoilt by their parents, over-watered and covered with noxious chemicals." - Derek Jarman's Garden, page 40

One of my all time favorite books about gardening is not really a book about gardening, although it is a book about gardening, but it's not.  And it's beautiful.  It's Derek Jarman's Garden.  I bought it many years ago and re-read it occasionally to find inspiration for my own garden, and for life.

I've read it and re-read it so many times, now I just keep it on top of my bookshelf and look at the cover. His use of found objects in the garden reminds me of my grandmother who lived in Ballard.  She could grow anything anywhere and would plant things in buckets and old boots and even broken down toilets. God knows what the neighbors thought.

The first time I encountered the film director Derek Jarman was when I saw the film Carravaggio at the Neptune Theatre in Seattle.  It was also the first time I encountered Sean Bean, Dexter Fletcher, and Tilda Swinton.  Captivating actors.

The death of Derek Jarman was one of the many reasons I joined the fight against HIV/AIDS.  Maybe after reading this book you will, too.

Lifelong AIDS Alliance

Cascade AIDS Project

WHAT A HUNK.  

Original material © 2011 betsylolafalanadowling.blogspot.com, Brain Fuzz & Betsy Dowling, All Rights Reserved

Image of Sean Bean in Caravaggio directed by Derek Jarman from the vastness of the Worldwide Internet.

The Garden of Paradise

All About My Mom

My mom's name is Betsy.

She is 84 years old.

Her favorite food is candy, 

but she doesn't like crimes.

She spends most of her time on the computer.

If my mom could have one wish come true, she would wish for $1000.

The thing my mom likes to do for fun is play with me.

I love my mom because she is nice.

My Mom loves me because I am cute.

My favorite thing she cooks is mac and cheese.

Happy Mother's Day!

Love, Orlando

PS  I think I look pretty darn good for 84, don't you?

© 2011 betsylolafalanadowling.blogspot.com, Brain Fuzz & Betsy Dowling, All Rights Reserved

Compatibility in the Garden: Low Maintenance vs High Maintenance

"The most liberating day of my life was when I realized that what other people think of me is none of my business."

I have no idea who originated that quote.  I'm pretty sure it wasn't Martin Luther King, Jr, though.

So here's the deal.  As a Certified Desert Landscaper I am trained to create wonderful low water, low maintenance gardens in the desert using beautiful desert-adapted plants in such a way as to make you feel like you are not living in a desert at all.  But if you love to garden yourself and don't mind pruning and you really want to grow raspberries and bamboo, I can make that happen, too.

It's really about compatibility, isn't it?  Are you compatible with your garden?  Or is your garden holding you back, tying you down, or comparing you unfavorably to other gardeners? Are you finding it impossible to please your garden?  Has your garden become distant and refuses to return your phone calls?  Has your garden met someone else?

OK, so I'm mildly freaking out here because my First Ever Serious Boyfriend (not including David Cassidy) just contacted me through this blog.  You just never know who is going to come out of the woodwork!  Can't remember the last time I saw him.  Late 1980's?  I'm a little self-conscious now that I know people are actually reading this thing.  (The most liberating day of my life was when I realized that what other people think of me is none of my business.  The most liberating day of my life was when I realized that what other people think of me is none of my business.  The most liberating day of my life was when I realized that what other people think of me is none of my business.)

Turns out he googled me!   (We googled each other a lot back in the 80s, but it didn't mean the same thing back then.  Oh, he had such nice legs.)  He says he's glad to see I'm living a productive life.  (Who? Me productive?)  Anyhow,  I have now googled him (yeah, because you know it never even occurred to me to google him or any of my old boyfriends ever before, right?) and I'm very PROUD to say he studied ornithology and he is now called doctor, and he's the Executive Director of a very worthy non-profit organization. He is leading a VERY productive life and he's happily married with children and he didn't turn out to be a Bob Dylan impersonator like I thought he might.

Ahhh, I can say I knew him when...  Actually, I could probably blackmail him with some of the things I know.  But I won't.

  

© 2011 betsylolafalanadowling.blogspot.com, Brain Fuzz & Betsy Dowling, All Rights Reserved

Trial and Error = Success in the Garden

Today I am planning to try some products that are new to me.  A company called EcoSmart claims they make "all natural" insecticide and weed killer for the garden.  They claim their products are "safe"...unless, of course, you are an insect or a weed.  Generally speaking, I usually try to use plants in my gardens that are so tough and hardy they don't need no stinking insecticide and I prefer to pull weeds by hand rather than spray Agent Orange, but there's always the client who wants delicate roses and roses attract aphids, so there you go.  And weeds that grow between tightly spaced pavers are very difficult to eradicate.  And the bermuda grass situation in the desert has become somewhat dire - I was shocked to learn that even the Desert Botanical Garden, home of extremely civilized people, uses Round-Up on the bermuda grass, but I guess they are just being realistic.  

So, if I can find something "safe", "natural", "green", and all those other buzz words of eco-harmony, it would be nice to use it for occasional spot treatments.  I will let you know how it goes.  Maybe I will save the universe from poisonous chemicals.  YOU NEVER KNOW.

By the way, my grandmother always sprayed soapy dishwater on her roses to drive the aphids away.  And she lived to be 97.  I'm just saying.  Ladybugs like to eat 'em, too.  

My son's nickname is Captain Relentless.  He is only six years old but I swear he sleeps like a teenager.  I have had the hardest time getting him up and ready for school in the mornings.  I have tried alarm clocks, then louder alarm clocks, I have tried playing music for him, I have tried waking him by gently shaking him and giving him a back rub, I have tried playing reveille on a kazoo, I have tried banging a drum, I have tried reading a book to him, I have had the dog jump on the bed and lick his face, I even went so far one morning as to stand over him with a Nerf gun and shoot Nerf bullets at his head.  Didn't work.

A few months ago I finally figured out the solution.  I set up my laptop next to his bed and went to youtube.  I found a "Fractured Fairy Tale" episode and hit play.  I had a mug of Instant Breakfast standing by - this is so hard to admit because I prided myself on preparing a proper breakfast for him every morning, but he's so hard to drag out of bed there is never any time.  Immediate success!!  He perked up so fast I couldn't believe I hadn't done this sooner!  So this is now our school morning ritual:  a classic cartoon on youtube and a mug of Instant Breakfast.  And once in a while I manage to slip in some sliced apple and some turkey bacon as well.

I can't help but think of JP Patches when I watch this! Love that man!

JP Patches

Original material © 2011 betsylolafalanadowling.blogspot.com, Brain Fuzz & Betsy Dowling, All Rights Reserved

Image of ladybug from Duncraft:  http://duncraft.atom5.com/butterflies-bees-lad-3213.html

Image of JP Patches from an archived article in the Seattle Times:  http://community.seattletimes.nwsource.com/archive/?date=20061218&slug=jppatches18