ah, Spring - a gardener's lament

from a couple of years ago, before I gave up on the hummingbird feeder

Warning - what follows is mostly gripe. If you do not enjoy gripe, please move on... this might not be pretty!

Spring is such a gorgeous time of year. Everything wants to grow. Brown hills turn green. Flowers burst forth. New life abounds. All of creation sings out with joy. Right?

Well, sure. But there is also this:

I'm told that Spring began on March 20. Can't prove it by me. We had about a week of delightful weather: temps in the low 70's, blue skies, birdsong - it was wonderful. That was back in March. Maybe even before the 20th, I'm not sure. Since then, it's been cold. Or wet. Or windy. Or cold and windy. Or wet and cold.

For the last 2 weeks, the wind has been ever-present and unrelenting. This is no gentle breeze. No, no. This is shake the house, break off branches, kill the new leaves, 30 mph wind gusting up to 45 mph. And the sound! Rattling the vents, howling through the trees, it is not a pleasant sound like rain or thunder. O how I despise wind. (To be fair, I hasten to add that it is much easier to deal with since the landlord replaced the 40+ year-old windows two summers ago. The wind actually cracked two of those old windows. But I still hate the wind, more than anything else in my life.)

between gusts, all is well

however, that does not last long, and this poor
little tree gets whipped around quite a lot.

Which is why I have to tie the tree (as well as
the hanging basket, not pictured) to the balcony.
Otherwise it would be rolling around or
crashing into the window.

It's also been incredibly cold here. Now, of course "cold" is relative - I am fully aware that I live in what is known as a temperate climate. (Just F.Y.I. to those who have not lived here, that means that it can be in the 50ºs or the 80ºs in April, August, November or January. Just sayin'.) So yes, in the low 50ºs all season long. Outside and in. I refuse to turn on the heat after April 1, so it's been about 58º in here most of the time. Layers of sweatshirts, heavy socks, and blankets abound.

The one good thing I can say about this unseasonably cold season is this: It's kept the ladybugs around.

my hero. or heroine.

See, Spring also brings aphids. They spring to life like everything else. The unfair advantage that Nature gave to aphids is that they can reproduce asexually. Which means that where one aphid is, three days later you can have a hundred sucking the life out of your plants. I have seen clusters of aphids where this is abundantly apparent - one large aphid surrounded by 99 little ones. It's kind of amazing, but it is really not a pleasant thing to see a favorite plant encrusted with the vile things.

Sadly, this is an indoor infestation. The plant had to be
destroyed, lest the infestation spread to more plants.

There are things one can try to eradicate the pestilence. I'm told that a good, hard spray of water will knock them off the plants and all will be well. That would be great, except that I (a) grow everything in pots, and the spray would empty the pots of soil and (b) have no hose. There is insecticidal soap, a "green", safe way of killing many garden pests. Unfortunately, you have to hit every bug that needs to be killed, and when they are everywhere, some are bound to be missed (see reproduction habits, above.) Also, the spray wilts the flowers - not a happy side effect. Enter the ladybug.

This critter is amazing. It can eat 100 aphids a day. Multiply that by the 1500 bugs you get in a container at the garden center for under $10, and you've got one environmentally-friendly pest solution. Trouble is, my gardening space is only about 3' wide and 9' long, and those ladybugs have wings. They are fickle things, not giving one thought to the fact that I've given them their freedom, and will fly away into a calm, blue sky and warm sun.

Ah HA! The silver lining. The little darlings are staying right here in my garden, hoovering up the aphids at a rapid pace. How wonderful. Maybe when the weather rights itself (one can always hope) and we get the Spring that is due to us, the flowers will still be around to enjoy.

maybe they'll even multiply!

That would almost make all this misery worth it. Almost.

my morning stages

I have developed certain patterns in my fumbling attempts to get up and out the door each morning workday. (It's actually true every morning, but certainly much worse when I need to be somewhere in the morning!) To my surprise, these appear to echo the Kübler-Ross stages of grief. Please allow me to illustrate.

Denial. This can begin as early as the night before, but usually occurs after the alarm first goes off. Despite the fact that I have barely left enough time to bathe, dress, eat and maybe pack a lunch before going out the door and facing the 12-mile, 40-minute drive through traffic into San Francisco that begins my day, I decide that I will really only need about 30 minutes for the process. No, 25. Wait - 20.

Bargaining. This is where the snooze alarm comes in. The reasoning behind hitting that snooze one more time looks a lot like denial (see above.)

Shock. This is what happens when I (a) sleep through the alarm/snooze, (b) manage to set the wrong time for waking, (c) set the right time for waking but neglect to turn the alarm on, or (d) miscalculate in the denial/bargaining phases. I will open my eyes to an inordinately bright sky, look at the clock, and then realize that I have exactly 5 minutes before I need to be out the door. Whoo, the adrenaline that courses through my veins when this happens could fuel a jet. locomotive. third grader through recess.

Acceptance. I get out of bed.

Depression. I realize I cannot go back to bed if I want to maintain my status as a functioning adult. I stumble around, bleary-headed, trying to remember how to dress myself and where I put my shoes. Caffeine helps this, but it usually does not have time to kick in before I leave the house (because I've only left myself 20 - no, wait - 15 minutes to get ready). Then, when it does kick in, I feel better but I also have to pee.

Anger. I'm fairly slow to anger in general, but when I need to get through those 12 miles in 30minutes,please,dammit,Idon'tHAVE45minutesforthiscommute! Well, things can get a little testy. Words like "stupid" and "idiot" and "move it!" might pass my lips.

Guilt. This is what happens when it sinks in that I am, indeed, going to be late for work. Not only that, but it's my own darned fault for being so foolish and indulging in the denial and bargaining that brought me to this state. Again.

I really wonder: what would life be like if I were a morning person?

I've seen a heckuva lot more sunsets than sunrises, that's for sure!

old 1st

Rose window, taken from across VanNess Ave

Visited a different church yesterday, Old First Presbyterian in SF, on Van Ness Ave. It's a place I've wanted to visit since I first saw the place a few summers ago (whilst waiting for T. to buy some sound equipment at the Guitar Center.) I took these photos then, not on Sunday...

Since that first glimpse, I've learned a few things about the church: They are the oldest active Protestant congregation in the state. They are a More Light congregation. And a local saint, Glenda Hope, was ordained into service by that congregation. Since I'm taking a bit of a break from Bethany, I thought I'd stop by and see for myself what they're up to.

the narthex is ornately painted and illuminated

I did not arrive on time. I was actually vacillating about whether to go or not... and I ended up splitting the difference and going 30 minutes late. The sermon had just begun when I walked in. I was being warmly greeted by an usher (who "ushed" me to sign the guest book and then "ushed" me to put on a name tag, and then "ushed" pointed out to me through the plate glass window - the entrance doubles as a crying room - a good place to sit) when I recognized a familiar, drawling voice. "Is that Glenda?!" Yes indeed, it was.

Rose window, from inside the Sanctuary

I had stumbled upon the celebration of Glenda's 40th anniversary of her ordination into the Ministry of Word and Sacrament. (In 1970 it was no small thing to ordain a woman to be the pastor of a church!) It was an honor to hear her preach, and that honor was doubled when she served me communion later.

I enjoyed my time at Old First. When I have visited churches in the past, they have mostly not been Presbyterian. This time, the liturgy was familiar, as was the hymnal and even the congregation... it was as if I was visiting a branch of the family I'd not yet met. The pipe organ was impressive, the choir was ... adequate, the hymns familiar, joyful and decidedly not weird - a nice change of pace for me.

exterior detail

There was an adult baptism, an infant baptism, and new members were welcomed. Communion was served in a simple and beautiful way, by intinction. They offer the congregation the choice of wine or grape juice - those who choose wine walk up the chancel steps to where the pastors serve (which is how I managed to be served by Rev. Hope.) I cannot remember the last time I had wine for communion, but it was a very long time ago, and I truly appreciated the difference.

Perhaps the most blessed thing about my experience was that I was totally unknown. All I needed to do was be there. No meetings after, no one I "had to" speak with, no duties, no distractions. It was peaceful. I want to go back - this time, for the whole service. Maybe in a couple of weeks.

exterior brick work

updating

I suppose I'm just going to be one of those sporadic bloggers - the type that kind of bugs me, because when I find someone interesting to read (and of course, that is in the eye of the beholder) I want to read something new all the time, but they only post once a fortnight or so. Not that there are many (any?) reading this, but if you are: sorry to be such a flake.

Lent has come and gone, and we are already in the 5th week of Easter. So just to close the door on my "productive" (or lack thereof) Lent, here's the final tally:

upload the last 4 weeks' worth of photos from my camera... tend my very neglected garden... embroider Max's onsies... wrap Emilie's gift and give it to her parents ... write the minutes from last month's Worship Committee meeting... read and highlight and/or redline the recently completed Mission study... clean the bathroom... fix the (collapsed, egads) interior of my craft cabinet... laundry... find out why the engine light went on in my car ... tie and hem my picnic blanket... figure out how to use my new iHome machine so I don't have to wear the earbuds to bed... make a new holiday-related craft. (note on 2/28 - the holiday has passed. Do I still make these, or wait until next year?) ... change the sheets... make a new bedspread... go outside and take photos... make and market and sell my photo cards (ahem)... take a walk... bake off the rest of the gingerbread dough... take out the garbage... vacuum... put the dates (birthdays and such) in my 2010 calendar... learn how to crochet a ball (maybe a few for Max and one for Emilie)... bake something for tonight's OMN@B... make a craigslist ad for the Calie Celae Calaei that Irish celebration at the church... learn how to spell it Ceili! ... pay the February bills... do my taxes... plant stuff into the now-cleared out garden... edit those 4 weeks of photos... watch as much of the Olympics as I can (which is good for the onesies project, too). ... get the Advent/Christmas banners back from wherever they are right now...

Enough of the old news. Here, as promised, are Max's onsies:

robot with hightops

go Giants!

dragon (kinda proud of this design)

stroke of genius (imho)