As everyone knows, I love being outside. And by "love", I mean "LOVE". And by "outside", I mean "indoors".
So it was a big surprise to me when we moved to Vancouver and I suddenly started to enjoy being in Nature. Not "prefer", mind you. I'm not some hippy freak. But "enjoy".
In the hopes of furthering that enjoyment (and getting more out of our second balcony, the door to which we generally keep closed so that dust doesn't blow in and fucker up our glorious t.v.), I got it into my head that I'd like to do some balcony gardening. My parents had a beautiful garden in the backyard while I was growing up and at the time, I fought like hell to avoid leaving the cool refuge of the basement. But now, in my dotage, I remember these pots and plants with great fondness. So while they were here visiting last weekend, I took my parents to Home Depot and they gots me some plants. And then I PUT MY HANDS IN DIRT. I really felt Gaia's power as I plunged my hands deep into the potting soil. Then I smelled Gaia. I'm not going to lie to you. She was a little ripe.
Beautiful faux-cotta pots. Jealous?
Shhh . . . the periwinkle is sleeping.
I'm taking your "part sun, part shade" handle seriously here, bougainvillea. Don't screw me.
It was raining when I started my gardening efforts but when it ended, the sun came out to reward me! I took some photos of the finished faux-cotta with the evening sunshine bright upon me.
As a first time gardener, I am nervous about my new vegetation and have been watching the pots quite closely over the last few days. So you can imagine my distress when I came home and saw this out my window.
"Oh my GOD," I thought, "my plants turning gray and dying RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME!!" I rushed out onto the balcony to inspect the pot and was momentarily startled by a dangling rope being slowly drawn up the building past our balcony. Clearly, the window washers had been. And they left me a little gift.
Dear Birds:
I can only hope you weren't actually hanging out in this nest when the window washers knocked it from its perch onto our balcony. If you would like your nest returned, please visit the eastern-most faux-cotta to retrieve it. Know that I am tempted to simply throw it away, but I don't want to touch it in case you have bird flu and Katr won't let me use the BBQ tongs.
Regards,
Roro
I was so incensed by the random unloading of crap onto our balcony by the window washers that I retaliated the only way I knew how. During a pause in the rope removal procedure, I reached out and stuck the gum I'd been chewing onto the passing rope. Because one gift deserves another. And few things register gift dissatisfaction more efficaciously than used Hubba Bubba.
Oh, hey, speaking of gifts, Katr, intrepid online marketer that she is, posted a challenge the other night to Sears' campaign to have customers vote on the cover for their annual Christmas wish book. In a nutshell, Katr thought their campaign blew (that's marketing jargon, so don't be alarmed if you don't really understand it) and she thought she'd start her own Wishbook Cover campaign! You know, to show Sears how it could have been done. So if you've got a photo that YOU think should grace the front of Sears' holiday catelogue (but never will), head on over to Flickr and upload your photo to the faux-Wishbook group. Here's mine:
Lookin' good, Darth Tater. Lookin' good.
