Doubling-down on that Second Chance–A not so typical story about Viagra.

“Oh, it’s sensible! Everything she does is sensible. It can’t be argued with. I just wonder sometimes if she knows people have feelings.” —Crossing to Safety by Wallace Stegner

Pretty sure Stegner had me in mind when writing that piece of dialogue. Of course, that’s complete bullshit, I was 9-years old when it was published, but you know the feeling I’m talking about. You read a particular line or passage in a book and have the distinct feeling the author is looking right at you in that moment and describing what they see. Then you’re owl-necking around the room hunting for the hiding author. Waving into glass reflections of framed pictures, rubbing the white ring on the coffee table left by that chilled whiskey drink you maybe had one too many of, searching under the lid of the toilet tank. Are they under the flapper valve? We find authors that have pulled us from the firmament and written us so purely onto the page like some people seem to find Jesus.

Or maybe not. The point is, I’ve been faulted quite a few times in relationships with family, friends, or significant others for holding too tightly to reason, but there is one area of my life in which emotion reigns supreme—my pets. Reason be damned when it comes to their lives. Last Wednesday, I got a call from my neighbor that filled me with  body-racking emotion. My sweet, old boy, Jet, had collapsed on a walk.

Almost one year ago now, Jet was brought into Last Hope Rescue as a senior foster. His story of getting a second chance at life was tough for all of us involved. One of the good parts of the story is that I became a foster failure and adopted him as a Bronson.

The past year has been calm and uneventful. He’s been active, healthy, and naturally old-man grumpy, so getting that call threw me straight into the aww-hell-naw zone. On the rare occasions I do feel emotion, my brain has no idea how to deal with it and I usually end up going through a battery of extremes. My initial response to anything that scares me is pure rage. Although this may be helpful for personal safety in most of life, it is not helpful at all in circumstances involving something you can’t actually punch or stab.

I resorted to temporary flight instead of fight after hanging up the phone and realizing what might be happening. Once again, Jet had decided to wait until the busiest time of the year for me at work to need help, but luckily I work with a close-knit team, so there was no question that I leave and go be with him.

My truly awesome neighbors had worked together to get him back to my house by luring him with treats by the time I got home. I was able to get some food in him and his regular pain meds before he fell asleep. Thursday saw some improvement during the morning hours, but by evening, he was back to collapsing after barely walking ten feet. I resorted to carrying him in and out of the house and realized it must be true what people say about women’s strength increasing tenfold when they are emotionally invested in whatever is happening that requires brute force.

Friday, Jet spent the afternoon at our vet’s office having blood work, x-rays, and other scans done while I spent another day trying to be present for work while listening to depressing songs like this one and sporadically crying my face into a puffed mess. When our vet sent the results over to a specialist in town, the specialist told her that he needed to see Jet as soon as possible. GAH! *insert more20180312_104246136459660.jpg emotion here* She said it looked like either signs of heart failure or cancer. What?

No.

By early Saturday morning , I was pretty sure I’d be coming home from the specialist office without my boy. He could barely stand and his eyes were spiritless. Two hours and numerous ultrasound images later, doc came into the room to tell me the news. It’s his heart. There appears to be a tumor along the top, which actually isn’t causing any issue and is smooth and even, meaning likely benign. For now, nothing to worry about there. But then there was the inflamed right ventricle causing blood flow issues which explained his sudden need to lie down after even minimal physical exertion.

The good news, it’s treatable. SWEET RELIEF. So doc starts telling me about the med, using the scientific name, and the dosage and that I should see results pretty quickly, but given my own personal health history, I keep asking questions about what exactly the med does and possible side effects and so on and such. Finally, he stops me, puts his hands out, shrugs his shoulders, and demurely says, “It’s Viagra.”

*insert instant flushed face here*

I wasn’t the only one to turn red though. Doc stumbled over some words trying to tell me the history of Viagra and it’s origination as a heart medication and that the happy side effect wasn’t expected but the company soon realized they’d make way more money off the happy side effect than the original intent of the drug and so forth and…blah blah blah…my 14-year old dog is on Viagra. For heart issues.

I’ll say it—it’s a miracle drug. Just two does in and Jet was back on his feet, walking the garden, going out to bark at neighbors. Life lit his eyes and he was up to his usual trick of tappin’ for treats. These doctors have stepped up twice now for my boy and me, pulling us through some dark zones. I can’t thank them enough.

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Jet the wonder dog has now seconded his second chance at life.

It’s Wednesday again and I am just now feeling recovered from the emotional typhoon of the last week. No clue how you people that have the feels on a regular basis can live this way. It’s exhausting.

 

On a lighter note, it’s Pi(e) Day. Pie. Mmmmm. Should I make one?

 

 

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Bee, Bee & a WannaBee: Pollinator Week Continues

Starting with a bee all up in the rain lilies that are blooming their fool heads off after the weeks of showers we’ve had lately. This dude hit up all three flowers multiple times. He was a happy camper and may have stopped to take a nap in there when I took this photo:

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I was sipping my coffee while looking out the kitchen window this morning and contemplating the garden work I needed to do when I saw movement on the torenia out of the corner of my eye. Went out to investigate and found this bumble greedily filling up on all the clown flowers. Packing those pollen pads!

And finally the wannabee. This little wasp was enjoying the new addition to the garden—the Salt & Pepper plant. I am also loving this one. The flowers are different from anything else I have and the habit is open and airy. So glad I decided to try it.

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Butterflies, Bees, and Moths: Pollinator Week Back in Full Effect

After weeks of dreary, rainy days, the sun finally came out today and so did the pollinators. I walked through the garden after lunch and caught sight of tiny wasps, bees, moths, butterflies, and flower flies. The garden I planted out by the road last summer has really taken off and although it was intended as a butterfly garden, it has attracted way more than that.

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As an after vet check-up treat, I took my girl Ruby Joon to Native Nurseries today and got to see even more pollinators while she drank from all the water features. Captured this beauty (monarch?) proving that the nursery’s signage is accurate. The Brickellia in my garden isn’t blooming quite yet, but I hope it attracts big ones like this guy…

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Back home, I found that I have swallowtail butterflies on the way. Caterpillars are currently destroying the bronze fennel, which I plant just for them. I noticed the first few pillars yesterday and one of the plants is already looking a bit thin today. This beast probably has something to do with the fennel demolition.

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This whole “Pollinator Week” thing has really gotten me out taking a closer look at the garden. Instead of seeing it as a whole, I’ve focused on individual blooms, looked under leaves, and even checked the zinnias hanging down into the ditch. Not only have I learned of pollinators I never knew were out there doing their thing, but my drive to garden regardless of the heat, humidity, and mosquitoes is back up—I’m energized again. Bring on the dog days of summer. I have a lot of work to do to be ready for fall and I’m ready.

 

 

Pollinator Week: Wednesday Rewind

Today was another rainy day, so I couldn’t find many pollinators out and about in the garden. I did find a red-headed bush cricket and a common grasshopper, but decided instead to share a video I took on Monday of a bee on one of the best pollinator attracting perennials out there—the anise hyssop.

I still can’t believe the size of the pollen saddles on that bee! Impressive work, buddy.

Pollinator Week: The Workhorse Wasp

Maybe this dude isn’t pollinating 15 floors up in the rain, but in the garden, yes. Wasps of all sizes are the main pollinators I see in my vegetable garden. I have my fair share of bees, butterflies, and moths as well, but wasps do double duty in the garden. Not only are they pollinators, but Braconid wasps will lay their eggs on hornworms and when they hatch, the larvae feed on the worm killing it. Instant pest control. And that is just one example of the over 200 possible pests that parasitic wasps control in a garden. Boom.

Soil-sense Intervention

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Meager morning harvest. Was this really it? I was already on the path of knowing I needed to improve my soil, but this was a total eye-opener. Even these few offerings from the veggie garden aren’t as healthy looking as they should be. I realized recently that I’ve been gardening the same backyard for ten years now and somewhere along the way I forgot that soil upkeep doesn’t happen with an application of leaf mulch twice a year.

I’ve always known that the soil is where it matters most in the garden. Regardless of the quality of plant or seed or the amount of sun and rain, if you don’t stay on top of building and maintaining the health of the soil, you’re losing.

At some point, I got lazy. That’s the truth of it. I could give the typical excuse of “life” getting in the way and all that bull, but really it was pure laziness. And then last week a book that has been on my shelf for two years finally caught my attention—The Third Plate by Dan Barber.

Just 100 pages in and there have already been so many poignant quotes that have made me say, “DUH, Jenn. DUH.” Gah.

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It’s embarrassing, really, to acknowledge here that at some point I lost all sense when it came to the soil of my gardens. After that pitiful morning harvest, I started thinking back to just a few years ago when I would go out on a similar morning and come back with my big ol’ antique colander and shirt full of tomatoes, peppers of all sorts and sizes, piles of herbs, eggplants with depths of purples so beautiful it became my favorite color. I would make sauces and salsas, cook and freeze, share with friends, coworkers, and family, and still have more.

It wasn’t just the abundance either. You could taste the difference in each variety of tomato, pepper, and eggplant. There were flavor and textural variations, as intended. I think I first noticed two years ago a drop off of not only production but quality. Did I do anything? Put out six inches of leaf mulch twice a year and hoped for the best. Stupid.

Today, I started the fix. With a weather forecasting rain for the next few days, I figured it was a good time to get some nutrients into that soil. By the way, this is what the skies looked like even with a 90% chance of rain for the day…

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But anywaaay, I know weather prediction will never be perfect or spot on, so I got out there to work. First thing, I put out a big bag of mushroom compost. Pulled what was left of the leaf mulch and some of the scrappy, dry dirt away from around the trunks of my tomatoes, peppers, eggplants, and herbs, and filled in with a hearty moat of the compost. I know it’s not ideal to apply the compost in this way, but the hope is that the rain will work it in and the worms I know are still down there will come up to pull it down.

After doing this around all of them and going through the mushroom compost and a bag of cow manure I forgot I had, I put down a fresh layer of leaf mulch and watered it all in. This is my idea of a patch in hopes of salvaging some flavors and production. I also started more long term repairs.

Finally got a compost bucket going again. I used to always have one and it was easy and obviously rewarding. Again, laziness took over. No more. I set up the bucket right down off the back deck, which is right where the kitchen is, so all kitchen scraps will now go into the compost pot. Luckily, I found a 30 gallon black plastic pot under the front deck that still had some previous composting attempt in it. Already rich with worms, I added some leaves and grass clippings and will start to add those veggie bits. Getting back on the right path seems doable now.

I know that there are the fancy-schmancy compost bins you can buy, but an elevated bucket that drains has always worked for me. It’s big enough to make good compost, but not so big that I won’t want to work it correctly.

My other longer term plan is to plant clover or beans or some other nitrogen-fixing cover crop. That will make a big impact for the next growing cycle. I am also doing more research into crop rotations that will improve the soil in a specific area for the planting following it.

I’ve had a soil-sense awakening because of a book. It’s overdue, but I’m relieved that it happened. My gardening practices needed an intervention, and as I get back on track to improving my garden soil, I’ve found a renewed interest in learning as much as I can about soil and the microbial life that is right below our feet. It truly fascinates me. For some people, it’s the galaxies above. For me, it’s the intricate universes below.