being not doing

This calendar year has been a bit one-thing-after-another and when-it-rains-it-pours, which has led despite my best intentions to quite a bit of kvetching and moaning around our household. I’m happy to report that our various unfortunate developments have all been resolved quite nicely.

Most recently, Carefirst has correctly reprocessed the remainder of my claims and sent me a letter clarifying that there is not and should not have been a waiting period on my account. It required the intervention of the Better Business Bureau: while Carefirst wouldn’t discuss my actual medical coverage with them, filing a claim led to contact with a real live person at Carefirst with the authority to just make things happen correctly. I appreciated that, was (I hope) very polite to her on the phone, while being grateful that she was very polite back to me. That’s all taken care of, without me needing to file a claim with the Maryland Insurance Administration as well, and I’m now established with Kaiser. Let’s hope I never have to return to the BlueCross network again.

Just before that came through, we successfully challenged the charges Speakeasy levied against our credit card for the failed installation of our DSL service. Thanks to my partner’s compulsive saving of webpages via the CutePDF Writer, we had access to the trouble logs after our account and its attendant access to Speakeasy’s website was discontinued. When we formally disputed the charges we could therefore submit some 60 pages documenting our communications with the company (wherein we explicitly decline to accept the service as satisfactorily installed no less than four times over the course of six weeks). Not surprisingly, the credit card company found in our favor there.

And, some months ago now, we did manage to successfully install the EasyCloset system to convert our small hall closet into a pantry of sorts. It still wasn’t easy, and I don’t recommend the system for plaster walls unless you have a large closet such that you can’t just get a standard bookshelf and plunk it in there (which is effectively what we ended up doing, with a lot of cutting and remounting to fit the shelves in around the mouldings). The company did, however, exchange the uprights for longer ones that would sit on the floor at no extra cost to us, for which we are very appreciative.

While all that was going on, I arranged to have my grandmother’s dining room furniture shipped internationally, with much help from my aunt and uncle up north. The furniture arrived safely this past week, so that’s one less worry outstanding. For the last few weeks of summer I’ll work on wrapping up my remaining tasks in progress: mailing out marriage announcements, writing thank you cards for the receptions, submitting newspaper notices, and ordering and installing new toilets commodes for all three bathrooms. Good times.

My first cherry pie.

This summer has been full of pies, and I expect I’m not quite done yet as I’ve promised a friend a peach pie for her September birthday. The peach pie will be the sixth pie of the summer, and I think that’s a nice round number. I’m sure there will be apple pies and sweet potato pies and the like in autumn, but we’ll take those when they come.

To kick off the pie making, we celebrated the 4th of July by having dinner with the family of my good friend from college, to which my contribution was a cherry pie. I had planned to make a peach pie, knowing that was a favorite of our host, but the folks at the fruit stand assured me that the only local peaches good for pie-making didn’t ripen until later in the summer. Despite my best efforts to seek assurances that the peaches they sold for eating fresh would be fine in pies, they held steady and advised me to go with their fresh tart cherries. I wasn’t a hard sell; cherry pie is my favorite. Knowing that tart fresh cherries are hard to find and wouldn’t be available long, I took the plunge and snapped up ten quarts, enough for five pies. Two of those quarts I made into a delicious pie, and eight of those quarts I pitted and froze for use later in the year.

Despite what we might assume about pie, it wasn’t a given that the cherry pie would be delicious. Mostly because I have been experimenting with whole wheat crusts and wasn’t entirely sure how that was going to turn out. Using the newly widely available Organic White Whole Wheat flour from King Arthur, I can say that their ‘just like white flour but brown!’ advertising is truthful. Unlike with traditional whole wheat flour, the white whole wheat flour performs pretty much the same in recipes; it has a subtly different taste, but it’s not as grainy or flat as replacement with traditional whole wheat flour tends to be. It’s more brown, which bothers some people but I personally like. I’ve also discovered that the crust recipe I use is perfectly suited for assembly in a food processor, which boosts the performance of the wheat flour as the dough is only minimally handled. The other factor in the cherry pie, which wasn’t likely to impact the taste, was the lattice top, another first for me. I went, shall we say, rustic with it: I made the strips of dough wider and included fewer of them, making the whole lattice assembly go more quickly and easily. In the end, of course, it was a delicious homemade cherry pie and nobody noticed any of the things I’d worried about (the above plus my concern that there was more juice than there should have been in the filling and my overcompensating by adding in some tapioca).

Following the cherry pie success, I made an apricot-ginger pie just because the fruit folks had fresh apricots that reminded me of the tree my grandparents used to have at the side of their house. That pie was ok — it was a homemade pie — but I wouldn’t go out of my way to buy apricots again in the future. If I had a tree in my yard, the pie would be a perfectly reasonable way of using them if I weren’t planning to spend hours making jam. Since I don’t, it was a good experiment that I fed mostly to my partner’s weekly gaming crew.

After a lull in pie-making during which we traveled around and recovered from being ill, I made three blueberry pies in the course of a couple of weeks. In the past I’ve been loathe to use the fresh blueberries for pies, but by the time they make it back to our fridge the oldest ones are invariably starting to wilt a bit, making them ideal for baking. Blueberry pies are always an appreciated contribution to a dinner with friends, which was the destiny of two of the pies, and a handy way to welcome new neighbors, which was the destiny of a portion of the third pie. Not all pies get more tasty after a day in the fridge, but I find that my favorites typically do: cherry, apple and blueberry (now you know).

In the course of all this pie-making and transporting, I had the opportunity to use my handy pie carrier — for which I was heartily mocked last year when I purchased it, I must say, the phrase of choice being something like ‘how often are you taking a pie somewhere really?’ I still think it’s one of the best investments of $8 I’ve made for the house, and have found that almost every time I make a pie it’s headed to someone else’s house. I was, though, disappointed to discover that the crust guard I received as a gift a couple of years ago doesn’t fit on my large pie plates, but I’m hopeful that it will still fit on the smaller metal one. And, I can continue to heartily recommend the Williams-Sonoma Pie and Tart cookbook, as the blueberry and apricot-ginger recipes came from them (the cherry pie recipe did not, but instead from Bon Appétit via the internet, as the Williams-Sonoma recipe called for canned cherries).

Pie never lasts long at our house.

Male Polyphemus Moth in our backyard.

This has been a great summer for sighting large insects in our backyard! I can’t take too much credit, as they’re attracted to food sources already present that I simply leave alone. The cicada killers love our yard, possibly more so than other sandy-soiled backyards in our town because I don’t use pesticides on our lawn which makes the ground a friendly habitat for them to make their burrows. I imagine they can find cicadas pretty much anywhere, but clean ground is more rare out here in the suburbs. We’ve had several swooping around our backyard these past couple of weeks, and little hills of dirt are starting to pop up. Not to be confused with the mole mounds that are also appearing, although I’m now wondering if some of last year’s hills that I attributed to the mole were actually from the wasps. For the first time this year I also spotted dragonflies in our yard, which tells you how bad the mosquitoes have been around here. Not just in our yard: on a recent walk through the town park, I saw at least a dozen dragonflies and damselflies swooping over the grass.

The most exciting find, however, was something totally new. Yesterday, the contractor who’s repairing our rear wall alerted me to the presence of a male Polyphemus Moth outside on his scaffolding. While I’ve heard all about these giant moths that don’t eat and die shortly after breeding — the Luna Moth being the most celebrated — I’d never seen one before. I can see why people get so excited about them: they are so cool! Besides being as big as my hand, the predator wing-snap reflex is something else. One small twitch of a neighboring leaf as I tried to get a better photo, and BANG out come the wings with the little cat eyes staring right at me.

This is the second insect I’ve seen this year that prefers sassafras for food. We have a small sassafras tree on the south side of our house, and two saplings springing up next to it. Sadly, the sassafras is in the area that might have to go the way of a dead tree if we decide to do exterior waterproofing work around our house. For now, though, it’s apparently providing habitat for not just an enormous moth but the Spicebush Swallowtail, several of which I’ve seen in our yard this year. The moth apparently also enjoys quince leaves, so it’s possible it was hanging out in the small grove of those this summer.

Besides these exciting newcomers, we have a gazillion crickets in the lawn, which means I am constantly startling little flocks of sparrows up out of the grass when I go outside. The odd Jiminy-type cricket makes its way into the basement — by which I mean LARGE — and when that happens we rescue it from the risk of the glue-traps (set out for the completely squicky camel crickets to meet their slow dooms) and toss it back into the lawn for the birds. Speaking of birds, having sprayed for the Eastern Tent Caterpillars this year, the cherry trees were healthy enough to actually set fruit, and we have loads of birds munching away in the heights. All of which assures me that I am providing plentiful food sources even with the discontinuation of my bird feeders following our various rat and cat problems.

View of the falls from the Maid of the Mist plaza.

We’re back from our Midwest driving tour, having celebrated with both families and made brief stop at Niagara Falls in between parties. We also appear to have recovered from the head cold we contracted in Niagara and passed between us for a couple of weeks. It was too tempting to walk to the falls at night, and the combination of travel fatigue and the cold wet night was just too much for us. Despite the rain and cold, we had a good time riding the Maid of the Mist (I love that boat), visiting Niagara-on-the-Lake (not really my thing), and hiking down a trail into the gorge from an access point near the Totem Pole park. After I got over my fear of slipping on the wet rocks and falling to my death in the whitewater — the terrified screams of the passengers on the jet boats passing us on their way to the whirlpool didn’t help — I enjoyed that hike a lot.

Now that we’re back at home, my plan for the rest of the summer and autumn consists of yard clearing, house repairs, clutter clearing, more house repairs, major fall cleaning, and some house beautifying in the form of paint. A lifelong process, I know, but I have big visions of what we’ll be able to accomplish over the next few months. And I’m going to get right on it just as soon as I finish my coffee.

Our rings, made for us by Cynthia Corio-Poli.

Today we leave for our ten day wedding celebration trip, during which time we drive first to Rhode Island and then to Ontario to celebrate our May wedding with our respective families. We’ll be offline for most of that time, as we eat hummus, drink rosé, and take a day in Niagara to ride the Maid of the Mist.

See you in August!

I woke up this morning with an REO Speedwagon song in my head. Not just any REO Speedwagon song, but the absolute best one, the one I always attribute to Chicago, since Chicago was my favorite band at age 9 and I therefore think that all great 80s rock ballads are by them. Sadly, they’re not. They’re mostly by REO Speedwagon. And sometimes by Journey.

So, this morning I popped awake at 6:15am, with YOU GOT ME STEALING YOUR LOVE AWAY, CAUSE YOU NEVER GIVE IT! booming through my head. Unfortunately, I don’t have any REO Speedwagon recordings, not even dubbed on tape. (Yes, I just used the word unfortunately with regard to our household’s lack of recordings by early 80s arena rockers.) My love of these bands dates from the days in elementary school when I went to bed with my clock radio, permanently tuned to Z96, crooning me to sleep. That was well before I had a cassette player, let alone any money to spend on music. You might also rightly assume, based on the number of times I’ve been persuaded to accompany him to Skinny Puppy shows (3), my partner shares this notable omission in his music collection. Which means, by 7am, I’ve been belting out the same two mistranscribed lines for 45 minutes now (YOU GOT ME CHASING THE YEARS AWAY, BABY WE CAN’T RELIVE IT) with absolutely no relief in sight, because, well, quite frankly, Napster is illegal now.

Problem not solved, I made my partner suffer through I MAKE YOU LAUGH, BABY YOU MAKE ME CRY all through breakfast and kept on with IT’S TIME FOR ME TO FLY I’ve got to set myself free TIME FOR ME TO FLY Baby, that’s just how it’s got to be on the walk to the mailbox and library. Luckily for him, it was raining so I wimped out on walking him all the way to the metro. Luckily for all of us, except maybe the teenagers next door who are likely trying to sleep in after talking in the street until the middle of night, LastFM came through in a pinch.

I wish I could tell you this sad tale of woe had a happy ending, but it doesn’t: after playing the song something like fifteen times in a row, the website cut me off and is now only giving me the 30 second teaser! If clearing my cookies or cycling the modem and getting a new dynamic IP address doesn’t work, I fear this means I may have to go see them in concert. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that: so far, cookie clearing has done the trick!

I never thought I would reach the point where I would be telling people to run the other way from BlueCross. Yet here I am: after 6 years as a BlueCross subscriber, I recommend getting any other coverage available to you. Which is saying a lot, given that they have one of the largest networks of health care providers and offer some of the most extensive PPO plans around. To be fair to BlueCross, the first two years were great. The customer service people were helpful, the prescription coverage was excellent, and claims were approved and paid in about two weeks.

About three years ago something changed, and everything positive about the company disappeared into the ether. Customer service became just like every other company: a complete crap shoot. The prescription coverage became worse and worse, until my out-of-pocket cost for my daily medication had eventually increased twenty-fold. And, most frustrating of all, BlueCross began to make errors on every single claim I submitted. The process for being reimbursed for covered services became a nightmare of calling again and again, providing the same information over and over (provider name, diagnostic, medical license and tax identification numbers), and endless resubmitting.

Honestly, I would have continued to live with all of that had BlueCross not started, in November of last year, to deny me coverage based on an internal BlueCross employee error. In October, I switched from my COBRA coverage to paying as an individual subscriber for the same plan. At the time, I had to demonstrate that I’d had continuous coverage for the previous 4 years in order to remove the standard waiting period for coverage of preexisting conditions, which I did. Hunky dory, everything’s fine, we truck along with the same frustrations already enumerated above. In November, someone at BlueCross did something — trust me, if I could get a clearer or more specific explanation out of them, I’d share it — that changed my starting date of coverage and activated a waiting period. I promptly received a nonsensical bill from them and my claims starting being denied. I called, they told me I needed to get a statement from them and fax it back to them — major errors resulting in the wrongful denial of service can apparently be made but not corrected internally at BlueCross — and then they would remove it. I did so, they did so, hunky dory, right? WRONG. Despite being assured over the past six months by a half dozen customer service agents and managers that the waiting period has been removed, it is in fact still active, and my claims are still being wrongfully denied. As of today, I’ve been waiting two weeks for a return call confirming that it’s been corrected. I’m not holding my breath.

I, of course, have done what any sane person would do in this situation: changed my insurance company and filed a complaint with the Better Business Bureau. Next up: the Maryland Insurance Administration. I’ll keep you posted.

One of our homemade ‘earth boxes.’

I’ve never really been a master of DIY projects. There are plenty of things I do for myself or the house, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that I tend to learn to do the things I want to learn to do and leave the things I don’t want to learn to do to other people. Whether I could do it myself doesn’t always factor into it, and I have never really been motivated to undertake projects specifically to see if can or to save money. Again, unless it’s something I like doing myself (like painting). Which is all to say that on my own I would have simply not planted tomatoes before I either (1) spent the money on actual Earth Boxes or (2) learned how to make them myself.

I’m not on my own, though, and the siren call of free tomato plants — started by our neighbor across the street who did spring for Earth Boxes and my partner’s boss’s boss who has an enormous garden on a farm about an hour away — was too much to resist, even before all the hullabaloo about salmonella. For once I was the voice of the wet blanket (’But you don’t even like tomatoes! But we’ll already be getting tomatoes from our farmer in the summer CSA!’) and he was the not-to-be-deterred optimist (’We’ll make sauce! We’ll give them away! It’ll be fun!’). With a small passel of wee tomato plants on our porch, and some pepper plants thrown in for good measure, he decided to go the DIY route, relying on the instructions of those who had already tried this at home as guidance.

In the end, the most difficult part of the project was mixing the dehydrated compressed potting mix with water, something I did by hand. I got lazy the second time around and overdid it with the hose, ending up with what could only be described as a big muddy mess in two boxes. To get the dirt back to wet-but-not-sloppy, I transferred mud into the small ceramic pots I was using for herbs and into the fourth box, and then (re)introduced dry mix into all three boxes. This worked in the end, but I ended up doing just as much hard hand-mixing as I would have, so I’d recommend taking it easy with the hose. It also remains to be seen whether I have irretrievably clogged the drainage holes and/or introduced too much soil into the reservoir; it’s not clear this last is possible, but not having read the actual instructions (Not My Project) I don’t know for sure.

Having assembled the boxes and planted the plants, we are now waiting to see whether following the fertilizing recommendations — which seemed a bit extreme to me — will result in lovely big plants or poor wee things with their roots burned to death. So far it looks like we have five plants that are loving it, one plant that’s gone the way of root burn, and two that took a licking and kept on ticking. I planted basil in among the tomatoes and the peppers seem to be happy in their own pot (the first one we assembled, from a larger bin, where the base fits more snugly into the box and the side holes drain better). Now all we have to do is water them every day and wait.

Rivers running through our basement.

The least pleasant discovery about our house has been the amount of water that comes into our basement during heavy rains. Least pleasant both because it makes the basement a dirty dank mold-growing hovel, as well as because it makes it hard to let go of our anger at the previous owner for his fraudulent misrepresentation of the house during the sale. As much as we repeat to ourselves, It’s our home now, nothing to be done, move forward from here, we are not in actual fact the Buddha and our chains are righteously yanked when this happens.

After the flooding last spring, when we devised our super high tech move-the-lintel-and-let-the-water-flow-under-the-door-to-the-drain solution, we were hopeful both that only fluke high rains would bring the river inside and that we wouldn’t get those rains too often. This turned out to be a pipe dream, as we live in an area that gets ‘fluke’ high rains every spring and floods easily. Add to the equation last year’s drought, and it becomes apparent that we’ll need to address the problem sooner rather than later if we hope to use the basement in the future. Everything we’ve read and all the people we’ve consulted agree that an interior drain system connected to a crazy strong sump pump will keep the water seeping through our porous walls from coming up over the foot of the foundation and out onto our floors. This should also relieve the amount of water under the house, and diminish the chance that cracks reform in the floor once we repair them. Completely reasonable in the abstract; godawful expensive and disruptive in practice to jackhammer up the floor and trench a pipe to the alley for the sump to drain.

Another factor is, of course, the amount of water around the exterior of the house. We have been lax in cleaning the gutters on the original house, as they are really high up in the air and we have yet to invest in a 20-foot ladder. Plus, I’m a chicken about heights like that, so it’s not clear I would be able to actually make myself use the 20-foot ladder even if we had one. So we need to hire someone to do that. We suspect that the buried drainpipes are also clogged and/or broken; they drain water but not the volume that we think they should. Finally, we also have no grading around the house foundation, and water flows downhill from our uphill neighbor directly to our house. We’ve always known we need to grade, but there are a lot of foundation plantings and I have been loathe to either kill them or go to extreme efforts to lift and move them; I’m thinking in particular of the 50+ year old azaleas which have shallow root systems. It’s not clear that will even be possible for the trees, which might just have to go. So, yes, I concede: sentimental attachment to plants is keeping me from doing everything I can to keep water out of my house. I’m working on getting over that and just sucking up the potential loss of the plants.

Knowing that it will be at least several more months before the work is done, I am doing my best to relate to the house as a metaphor for what I need to learn in my life. Creating a strong foundation, clearly defining boundaries, clearing out old junk that’s just been sitting around for years: these are all things we’re physically doing in the house that we are also intangibly doing in our lives. It can be hard to see water and mold as an opportunity, but I know that it’s forcing us to undertake other projects we might have put off indefinitely. In order to relocate our belongings from the basement we’re cleaning out the attic: removing the 50+ year old insulation from the rafters of the roof and cleaning out the assorted bits and pieces of trash left up there. Since our belongings will be moving into a nice empty new space literally hanging over our heads, I’m working to be selective about what we keep and transport upstairs, which means pitching out a whole bunch of stuff that we just stuck in the basement to be faced later. Later is now, and I hope that we — and our house — will be the better for it.

In the meantime, boxes of my childhood belongings are once again stacked in my study and the many suitcases we’ve acquired during our years of international travel are piled in the living room with our artificial Christmas tree. I just keep repeating, it’s a process. We’ll get there.

Following the glowing recommendation of friends who used EasyClosets systems to maximize the storage space of their San Francisco condo, I ordered shelving to convert our small hall closet into a pantry. We have a larger closet in the family room that we use for coats, and the hall closet is directly across from the (also small) kitchen. My hope is to move the collection of small kitchen appliances out of the dining room and off of the kitchen counters, along with the canning supplies currently in my office and the stocks of rice milk, paper towels and distilled water that are stashed here and there under counters and at the backs of cabinets. I’d like to remove the bookshelf from the dining room entirely, relocating the cookbooks to the nearest shelf around the corner in the living room.

At any rate: EasyClosets. Nowhere on their website does the word ‘plaster’ appear, nor is there any warning statement indicating that the hardware and mounting system — set up to drive the weight of the shelves against the wall and down toward the floor — is suitable only for drywall. Nor does any such warning or distinction appear in the instruction booklet accompanying the materials. Nonetheless, the anchors are readily identifiable as drywall anchors (once you have them in front of you), and the E-Z Toggle website clearly states (when you go searching for clarification), Since plaster has a different composition than drywall, E-Z Ancor® products cannot be used.

So. Here we are with a living room full of particle board, a dining room full of the stuff that we took out of the closet to prep it plus the tools we assembled for the installation, and no pantry. I called EasyClosets and am hoping that the guy who’s ‘done a lot of installations,’ but wasn’t at his desk just then, will call me back with instructions for mounting the shelves into plaster. I’m sure they would rather do that than pay to ship the particle board back to themselves because they don’t make it clear that their system is drywall only. I, of course, would rather have mounted shelves in the closet than not, so a hardware alternative would work for everyone.

Our own research didn’t leave us very hopeful; from what we could tell, the approach for mounting wall units into plaster is nearly completely opposite that of mounting them into drywall. With drywall, you use anchors to distribute the weight across the wall as evenly as possible, and the surface takes the force. With plaster, it seems that you drive as much of the weight into the studs as possible and away from the wall itself. As our closet is adjacent to the original exterior wall, we have only the first stud off the wall to work with, smack in the middle of the space; the closet is not wide enough to span two supports. The other alternative, of course, is to install freestanding shelves that are anchored to the wall for balance only, but I can’t tell you how sick I am of that type of setup. I believe my exact statement on that topic was ‘I want a pantry, not another gosh-darn bookshelf in a closet!’ It was late, I was tired, but the sentiment is the truth (and if you know me I’m sure you can guess that by gosh-darn I mean a whole bunch of other stuff not suitable for prime time).

Hopefully EasyClosets will pull a bunny out of a hat for me and save us from having to have another gosh-darn bookshelf in a closet.

Last month we started the process of switching our DSL from Verizon to Speakeasy, with the intention of trying Speakeasy’s VOIP service. After a year of being harassed via evening calls by Verizon trying to sell us FIOS — each time being told by their customer service people that ‘it takes a while to get off the list’ and ‘we don’t control the list’ and being promised that I wouldn’t hear from them again — I decided I was done with Verizon. We had Speakeasy DSL for two years in the District and had changed to Verizon when we moved out here because it was less expensive. In terms of DSL service, the Verizon service was comparable to what we’d had from Speakeasy, with only slightly more frequent modem reboots required for line drops.

Since we got our new dedicated line installed we’ve had nothing but difficulty. The line has trouble locking on a signal, it bounces all over creation, it only works consistently in safe mode — with about half the speed we’re paying for — and even then it drops in the evenings and on the weekends. This makes it a little difficult to follow up on all the communications we have in progress with basement repair companies and caterers, to say the least. I certainly have no intention of transferring my phone to a completely unreliable service.

For the most part Speakeasy has been responsive. They’ve taken our calls and tested our line many many times; I think we currently have five or six open service tickets for various aspects of the problem. They have agreed that our line is not yet installed. They just haven’t fixed it yet. Granted, they are limited by our schedule (going out of town for a week stalled the process) and the schedules of the people who maintain the physical systems and have not been available to swap out circuit cards and the like on weekends. Still, it’s been a month and we’ve had only craptastic to nonexistent DSL service with no end in sight. If I weren’t switching from Verizon because I believe the company to be the spawn of satan, I’d be entirely inclined to stick with what I had.

I’m sure all this is just a fluke of a series of poor mechanical connections and I’m hopeful that the service techs will be able to locate and fix the problems this week. In the meantime, I’ll continue to do a lot of things around the house that are generally neglected for lack of time and conduct my business by phone (which is my least favorite way to communicate after spending six years in a long-distance relationship). We do what we must.

I’ve updated my lifelist to reflect the sightings of the past month or so. I still need to find usable photos (e.g. those in the public domain or licensed for non-commercial use) and enter a bunch of latin names, but the list of birds itself is now complete.

Through doing this update I’ve realized that I’ve crossed the 200 bird mark! This number includes all birds sighted everywhere, i.e. the 27 birds I saw in Ireland (the Ring-Necked Pheasant is the only bird that appears in both places). It’s my goal to reach 200 birds in North America by the end of the year. I would say ‘no problem, I’ve been going gang-busters since the beginning of the year!’ except…. Except I’m trying to be realistic: it’s been the spring migration and that’s no way to gauge how the rest of the year will go. Nonetheless there are still whole categories of birds I’m completely weak on — owls spring readily to mind — and more that are common in the right habitat. I’ll be traveling north again toward the end of the summer, and with a little luck I’ll be able to pick up some more locals in other places.

Twenty-four (more) new birds before the end of the year seems daunting, but I remind myself that I’ve already seen fifty-two new birds this year. Fifty-two! I had no idea it was that many until I tallied them up just now. I’m kind of impressed with myself. So there you go.

Blooming row of yellow daylilies at the top of the front bed.

We returned from our trip this week to the sight of our yellow daylilies in full riotous bloom. They had started to bloom before we left, but the five days of rain and sun did them good and they are magnificent now. At some point I’m sure they’ll need to be thinned and I might break up the monotony with some other plants, or at least different varieties in various shades of yellow and orange. For now, though, I’m just enjoying the bright swathe of color. There’s really no comparison to how they looked last year; this spring’s rain and the additional year to become established have made them into a veritable wall of flowers.

Our days away have also made it possible to see the impact of the herbicides on the patches of poison ivy that we’re working to eradicate from the yard. Not much, as the case may be: we’re definitely going to need to reapply, possibly several more times through the summer. Ah well. Despite the claims of the label — and the exhortations to phone poison control of any of the spray whatsoever comes into contact with any part of my body — I suspected that our ivy might not be so easily vanquished. No rush, though. If not this year, next year; poison ivy is nasty enough that I won’t be giving up so easily.

Three blooms on the Louise Odier rose.

Sadly, our week away meant we missed the last of the wonderfully fragrant Louise Odier blooms. Perhaps the bush will bloom again later in the season; this will be summer I learn as much as I can about the roses I’ve inherited. I plan to pick the brain of a gardener acquaintance on the verge of retirement, during the three days per week he’ll be at home. Hopefully between his advice and books from the library I’ll be able to develop a strategy for moving the bushes without killing them come autumn. For now, I enjoy the multitude of blooms on the Blaze bushes and work on sketching out plans for my little island bed of herbs.

I spent most of this past week visiting family in the hospital on Western’s campus in London (Ontario). While there, I took the opportunity to walk along the Thames and check out the breeding birds. Many were familiar — Yellow Warblers, House Wrens, Grackles, Robins, Chipping Sparrows, Catbirds, and a Great Blue Heron — but we were lucky and persistent enough to see a few new ones. On the second day of our afternoon walks, we tracked a pair of Great Crested Flycatchers along the path; they were making plenty of noise, but the gray light made identification difficult at first. Once we got a good look at the dark crest, wing stripes, and yellow belly things were a lot easier. We also spent what seemed like an ungodly amount of time craning upwards at what we eventually resolved was a male American Redstart. He landed on a perch near us long enough to get a good look, even turning around several times to display his plumage from all angles as if he despaired of us ever identifying him on our own.

The next day we returned hoping to get a repeat performance, but they never reappeared. We did spot the nests of several different birds — one complete with babies — and located an Eastern Wood Peewee on the way back along the trail as well as a male Baltimore Oriole hanging out above a squawking juvenile hawk, completely unperturbed. The peewee, with its light yellow chest, was quite fun to watch flying out after bugs, and the oriole was a nice first sighting for my partner. We didn’t return the next day; temperatures hit 90F and that was just a bit much to be tromping through the woods at the height of the afternoon. Nonetheless, every new bird, however common, is a nice addition to the lifelist and I’m pleased to have seen some of the woodland species.

In addition to the birds, I was pleased to come across numerous toads hopping into the shady underbrush, most likely a combination of American and Fowler’s. We also spotted enormous soft-shelled turtles — dark brown shells, light limbs, pointy up-turned noses — which were likely Eastern Softshells (judging from the maps in my Peterson’s guide, which I still haven’t learned to take with me on these trips).

The next task is to update my records to reflect all of these new sightings, a task which is suited to 90+ degree weather!

Last Saturday we drove up to Boordy Vineyards, north of Baltimore, for their annual wine and herb festival. I was imagining something ‘a little more California,’ as my friend’s mother would say: linen trousers, platters of complimentary artisanal cheeses with crusty bread, and music wafting on the breeze. It was not like that. What it was like was paying an entrance fee for the opportunity to spend more money, a construct that I’ve never really found appealing.

Although it’s not something I would have attended had I known what I was getting, the festival as structured was fine. There was a live band, a dance floor, and a varied selection of local products available for sale. However, besides bringing in the additional vendors and the music, Boordy didn’t provide anything that couldn’t be had by visiting the vineyard during regular hours. There were no special rates and no complimentary drinks or food beyond the usual 1/2 ounce tastes of their regular products. This was the largest digression from what I’d imagined we were attending; for the $12 dollar entrance fee, I expected more than I could have gotten at any of the free Taste of [fill-in-the-blank-with-your-favorite-city] events I’ve attended over the years.

The major disappointment of our visit, however, was the discovery that most of their wines were just plain bad. I’ve had their Riesling several times and enjoyed it; my mistake was assuming that a Riesling would be on the lower end of what they had to offer. Quite the opposite: the Riesling is by far their nicest (i.e. most authentic) selection. Granted, this was the first time I’d gone to a tasting of Maryland wines, and it probably shouldn’t have been surprising that the flavor and body were so consistently what I can only describe as young. I imagine this is an artifact of growing grapes in this climate, but I was still taken aback by how unappealing I found them. They were no competition for New York or New Jersey wines, let alone even moderate choices from California or Oregon vineyards. I suppose that people who enjoy California wines and don’t have expectations based on the French originals might find these local cabernets and pinots palatable; I certainly did not.

Another element that I wasn’t prepared for was the prevalence of flavored fruit wines. When did coolers in a wine bottle become something consumed by anybody over the age of 20? I truly did not consider myself a wine snob before this weekend, but either the norms have changed dramatically in the past decade or my tastes have matured much more than I realized, because I was kind of appalled to see what people were drinking by the case and pronouncing excellent. I’m no stranger to fruit wines: Michigan produces lovely cherry wines, I’ve had delicious blueberry wines in Ontario and New Jersey, and my aunt bottles a refreshing peach flavored wine at her local DIY shop that’s perfect for a summer evening. I guess that’s the problem: I didn’t expect to find flavored wines worse than what my family can make on their own being touted at the local vineyard.

The upshot is that the wines were really not worth the trip, and it’s good to know what to avoid in the future. We did come home with several herbs for our garden — rosemary, ‘Italian oregano,’ and mint julep — courtesy of Putnam Hill Nursery, and two new honey selections — cranberry and blueberry — from the folks at Bees on the Bay. So, the trip wasn’t a total wash, and now we know.