Fog On The Tyne
It’s one of the great ironies of modern life that as we feel that we are getting more and more civilised and divorced from nature the natural world still manages to intrude on our lives.
The big example recently I suppose, is the drought that would lead to standpipes by late summer, but which, on account of being the worst arranged drought in history is about to be called off on account of constant flooding. Certainly earlier in the spring our garden was as dry as a pharaoh’s sock and we were very worried that nothing would grow this year. We even started looking for drought resistant plants. Now, of course, it’s back to its usual lush sluggy paradise – or it would be had we not seeded the beds with nematodes. If only they did for snails, too…
The other intrusion from the natural world is the local fox community. I have already mentioned the cub, or cubs, wandering into the house. That hasn’t recurred (largely because it’s been too cool and wet to have the doors open), but I have noticed signs of activity beyond that. Pots have been knocked over and part excavated, plants have been trampled.
Furtle remarked that she had surprised the vixen while out planting (she was doing the planting, not the fox), where it had been under the buddleia, inspecting the Moai Head I installed a couple of weeks ago. The other morning, while I was drinking my coffee, she (the fox, not Furtle), was wandering around on the patio looking wistfully at the conservatory door, before trampling the upper bed and wandering off back down the garden.
The upshot of this is that I am beginning to think it is high time I played them at their own game. It was recommended on one of the gardening programmes and I may have to try it: peeing along the boundaries of the garden. That’s right, instead of using our up to date 21st century conveniences, I may have to nip out back and pee up the wall. Mark my territory.
It’s be spears and nets next.
The big example recently I suppose, is the drought that would lead to standpipes by late summer, but which, on account of being the worst arranged drought in history is about to be called off on account of constant flooding. Certainly earlier in the spring our garden was as dry as a pharaoh’s sock and we were very worried that nothing would grow this year. We even started looking for drought resistant plants. Now, of course, it’s back to its usual lush sluggy paradise – or it would be had we not seeded the beds with nematodes. If only they did for snails, too…
The other intrusion from the natural world is the local fox community. I have already mentioned the cub, or cubs, wandering into the house. That hasn’t recurred (largely because it’s been too cool and wet to have the doors open), but I have noticed signs of activity beyond that. Pots have been knocked over and part excavated, plants have been trampled.
Furtle remarked that she had surprised the vixen while out planting (she was doing the planting, not the fox), where it had been under the buddleia, inspecting the Moai Head I installed a couple of weeks ago. The other morning, while I was drinking my coffee, she (the fox, not Furtle), was wandering around on the patio looking wistfully at the conservatory door, before trampling the upper bed and wandering off back down the garden.
The upshot of this is that I am beginning to think it is high time I played them at their own game. It was recommended on one of the gardening programmes and I may have to try it: peeing along the boundaries of the garden. That’s right, instead of using our up to date 21st century conveniences, I may have to nip out back and pee up the wall. Mark my territory.
It’s be spears and nets next.