Spayed

Here's a closeup of one of my Thanksgiving cactus flowers. They're now opening up, unfolding like elaborate birds taking flight -- or, as I always think of them, dragons.

Believe it or not, Bailey was finally successfully spayed yesterday. There will be no more puppies from our girl, and I think she's relieved. She's still a bit stoned from the surgery, so maybe it's just that -- but every time she looks up at me with those big brown eyes she seems to be saying, "Thank goodness that's over."

Maybe I'm projecting.

I took her in at 9 a.m. and the veterinary nurse looked her over and deemed her sufficiently past her "false pregnancy." So I left her there, and you'd think she would have at least cast a longing look in my direction as they took her downstairs -- but no. She left with tail wagging. As I told the receptionist, "She doesn't miss me at all!"

I spent a blissfully quiet day at home, catching up on e-mails and reading on the couch. No dog nagging me to play with her, or wanting to be let out, or wanting to go for a walk. It was nice to be able to concentrate for an extended period of time!

I also fixed the steps that Olga once used to climb up and down off the bed. The bottom step had been broken once again, so I went to the hardware store, bought some wood glue and did another jankety repair job. It won't last forever but it will hopefully get us through this healing period, when Bailey shouldn't be jumping on or off the bed. (Getting her to use the steps will be another challenge.)

This was Bailey on the way to the vet -- her last picture with her uterus intact. She was very confused by this dog statue, which I've blogged a couple of times before. She barked at it!

Dave and I went back to collect her at 5 p.m. She was stoned but able to walk home -- more slowly than usual, but otherwise with no trouble. She lay on the couch, staring into space, as Dave and I ate leftovers for dinner and watched "Game of Thrones." (Only two episodes left!)

This morning she seems slightly more alert -- she went out in the garden and barked when she heard noises from the neighbors. Signs of her old personality resurfacing! We have antibiotics, painkillers and -- at Dave's suggestion -- tranquilizers that we can give her to get her through this healing period, and to my relief, she's not in a collar or cone -- we just have to make sure she doesn't mess with her incision. Looks like I'm a nurse for the week.

High Winds and Cough Syrup

Glistening inkcap (Coprinellus micaceus) at the cemetery

The weather freshened up yesterday, with clear skies, cool temperatures and lots of wind. I got out in the garden early in the morning with my metal detector, trying to find a piece of the bird feeders that got knocked off by the tree crew. I was afraid it had been swept up and carried off with all of the tree debris, but eventually I found it and reattached it to the feeder. What a bizarre task!

I also got a mysteriously strong reading in one of the flower beds and decided to dig there. A coin? Jewelry? No -- it was one of our missing copper slug rings. Somehow it had become buried and forgotten. It's now back in the shed with its slug-deterring companions.

I haven't used that metal detector in years but I must admit it was kind of fun to scan the ground and see what's what. I also found a weird strip of aluminum, and I got countless readings for iron -- no doubt old nails and screws. Our garden is full of construction debris. (I didn't bother trying to dig any of them up.)

In the afternoon I took a walk with Bailey to the cemetery. I was trying to capture the autumnal foliage in the photo above but somehow it doesn't look very bright. It seemed more yellowy in real life.

On the far side of the cemetery, an automated voice rang out from the driveway of a house as we passed: "Hi. You are being recorded." I instinctively responded, "Oh, f*ck off!" I mean, I wasn't in their driveway or tampering with their cars -- I was on the public sidewalk! Sure enough there was a camera attached to the corner of the roof. I don't mind being recorded, but I've never seen CCTV that comes with a vocal warning, clearly meant to intimidate passers-by. It annoyed me.

I also saw a woman wearing a hoodie that said on the back, in big letters, "THAT'S A AWFUL LOT OF COUGH SYRUP." I wondered what on earth it could possibly mean. It sounded like some kind of drug reference -- like, can you make recreational drugs from cough syrup? Turns out it's a brand of clothing owned by an LA rapper.

Bailey, as usual, was on red-alert for squirrels and straining at her lead. She's off this morning to the vet -- we're going to try spaying once again. Fingers crossed this fifth attempt will do the trick.

Here's a video to give you a sense of how windy it was yesterday. From inside the house I watched our poor avocado cope with the gusts, which were said to be up to about 40 mph. For a plant that lived its early years entirely indoors, it did well!

Cleaning Up the Kingdom

These hazel leaves are jammed into a joint in the fence right outside our kitchen window -- a reminder of the tree work done on Friday. The tree trimmers hauled all the branches down the side return and some of the bits got caught in the fence.

I woke up this morning thinking it was 7 a.m. -- but no, it was 6 a.m., because today we're moving off British Summer Time and back to Greenwich Mean Time. These pesky clock changes! This one wasn't on my radar at all until another blogger mentioned that Europe was changing this weekend -- or at least some parts of Europe -- and that's when I realized we were too. And then I promptly forgot until just now.

Speaking of blogs, I backed mine up yesterday. Google has changed the way it's done. It used to be that we could download a backup directly from our blog dashboard, and it would come as an XML file. But now we have to request the data from Google -- they prepare it and put it in a ZIP file, or in my case two ZIP files because I post so much, and they e-mail you when it's ready for you to download. Kind of a pain and I have no idea how I'd reconstitute the blog from these files should it ever be deleted. But at least I have something.

It would probably be healthier to just say c'est la vie if the servers crash or the blog vanishes through some other technical mishap. All things are temporary, right? But I like feeling that extra bit of security.

The Thanksgiving cactuses -- which are actually more like Halloween cactuses, in our case -- are about to burst into bloom. As you can see, I'm getting flowers on all four of them -- my two pink ones, my white one from blog reader Frances and my salmon-colored one. I fit them all onto a single tabletop for this picture, but they're packed a little too tightly to be happy there in the long term.

I spent yesterday morning picking up debris in the garden. As you can imagine, there's a lot of it. I filled four yard waste bags, and the council will only pick up three at a time, so I can't do any more until after Tuesday when they're collected.

The process was complicated by Bailey, who likes pulling sticks out of the bag right after I've put them in. Thanks for the help, dog.

Here she is keeping an eye on her kingdom. (Or queendom?)

Speaking of kingdoms, Dave and I are about to start the last season of "Game of Thrones." I feel like we've been watching it forever. We mistakenly thought last night's episode was the last, and when we were about halfway through I said, "There's an awful lot of unresolved stuff going on here!" That's when we realized there's still one more season to go. We also just finished the latest of Ryan Murphy's "Monster" series on Netflix, about Lizzie Borden (and weirdly, also Aileen Wuornos). It was an imaginative re-telling of those crimes but I'm wondering how much is based on fact.

Tree Trauma

Well, yesterday was the most unpleasant day I've had in a while. The tree trimmers were here to do a pretty drastic cutback of our hazels and Philadelphus, and they did not disappoint. They arrived about 8:30 a.m. and they worked without stopping until about 3 p.m.

I pretty much left them to their own devices, except for stepping outside now and then to see how things were going. I figure, they're the professionals, and they don't need me hanging over them nagging about every little root and twig. But I kept up a constant watch from the house.

The whole experience made me feel invaded. Like, my private space that I tend so carefully, where I know the story behind every plant, seemed really violated. This was partly because they were fairly rough about removing branches and they did some damage to our other plantings. I know we lost at least one rose bush, broken off at the base, as well as at least one flowerpot, and there are countless little plants that were trampled and may or may not come up again in the spring. At least it's October and many of them were dying back anyway, but still, it was on the whole a very unnerving experience.

Granted, they had to remove a lot of stuff, and overall they did a good job and did what needed to be done. But geez, it was stressful.

Before:

After:

These are pano shots so the garden is a bit distorted. That clump of trees in the center are the hazels, which as you can see we reduced in both height and density. I'd say they took about half of the trunks out, which will give that side of the garden much more sun. We'd actually lost some plants in that bed because it had become so shady, so hopefully this will make a difference.

The biggest Philadelphus is just to the right of the hazels, and that has been cut down by about two-thirds, almost to the height of the fence. It's just a collection of sticks now. As a result we can see more of the houses and rooflines in that direction, and our next door neighbor will get a lot more light, too. It should leaf out from its lower height come spring, unless we've traumatized it so much that it just gives up the ghost, and that wouldn't be a terrible thing.

I have to go out there today and do some more cleanup and damage assessment. And I have to write the landlords and fill them in on the work -- since they're splitting this expense with us.

I'm happy to see that this morning, there's been no reduction in birds coming to our bird feeders or other wildlife activity. I was worried about how removing so much dense foliage might affect the birds.

On a brighter note, we got out the "staffy pajamas" we bought for Olga a couple of years ago. Bailey seems to like them a lot more than Olga did!

Storms and Trees

These trees at the top of our street always turn a nice color in autumn. It's still a little early for the one on the left, but the one on the right is showing off a bit more.

Speaking of trees, we have arborists coming today to prune several large stands of vegetation in our garden -- our hazels, which are gigantic and have taken over; our two Philadelphus or mock orange bushes, also huge; and the dead ivy in one of the elder trees in very back. I've taken "before" pictures, so tomorrow I'll try to give you a "before" and "after" comparison.

It's going to be a drag for the tree crew, because the weather is supposed to be terrible today -- rain and winds gusting up to 25 mph. I called the office yesterday, though, and they said they'd be here. We'll see.

This is part of Storm Austen, which is hitting Southwest England hard. It's going to be followed immediately by another named storm, Boelo, which sounds like it will be going more to the north of us but is supposed to make everything miserable on Saturday. Fun times!

Yesterday I walked Bailey down Broadhurst Gardens and through the neighborhood known as South Hampstead. I came across this graffiti on the way. Sad graffiti man.

More Pumpkins and a Creepy Clown

Yesterday was just miserable. There's no way to sugar-coat it. The warmest it got was about 50º F (10.6º C), the coldest not too many degrees below that -- that chill was penetrating. And rain, rain, rain. According to our local weather website, we're still about 12 percent short of our normal annual rainfall and 28 percent lower than usual for this month -- the reservoirs remain low and we still have a hosepipe ban. So I should be happy about the rain, and I am, sort of, as long as I'm not out in it.

Unfortunately I had to be out in it in the morning to go to the dentist for a routine cleaning and exam. I have a tiny cavity forming between two of my teeth which the dentist said we should take care of -- but she was strangely noncommittal about when we should do it. "Some time within the next few months just give us a call," she said. I suppose I should do it more promptly than not but it's funny that they didn't ask me to schedule something right then. I'll get back to them eventually.

As you can see above, the Halloween decorations are coming out. Sweet Corner has plastered its windows with painted ghosts and pumpkins.

There's even a creepy clown (Pennywise?) having coffee with a mummy (possibly the Mummy?).

And another jack-o-lantern has appeared around the corner. That's pretty impressive carving, isn't it? Now that I think about it, I didn't see the blingy one when I took Bailey for her walk yesterday -- so maybe, as expected, it has already deteriorated beyond keeping.

Meanwhile, Fortune Green is looking very autumnal.

Otherwise, I mostly stayed in and read, except for a brief foray to pick up our cleaning. And I archived photos, which somehow I hadn't done properly for more than a month. I was way behind. It's a two-step process -- culling everything I don't want to keep, and then saving all the keepers on a portable hard drive. (This is in addition to uploading them to Flickr, but I'm usually running at least a couple of weeks behind on that task -- often, as now, more like a month.)

Did you hear about Trump's envoy to Russia calling Putin a "humanitarian"? The mind reels. As a columnist for The Guardian pointed out, an old saying fits the moment: "The first casualty of war is truth." Pennywise is St. Francis compared to Putin.

Dermatology and Diary

The dermatologist turned out to be something of a non-event. I ventured deep into the labyrinthine hallways of the Royal Free Hospital, in search of Clinic 8, where a young woman photographed the suspicious rough patch on my lip. She got close-ups and even mashed the camera against the skin -- which, when it's your lip, is rather awkward -- to get photos of the first layer of cells. And then I was sent on my way. A doctor will review the photos and decide on a diagnosis or send me back for further tests or a biopsy if warranted. Apparently this is standard operating procedure for dermatological issues under the NHS.

I was somewhat disappointed that I never saw a doctor and didn't have the chance to ask about other rough spots or treatments for my keratoses. Apparently I need to make a separate appointment for every spot. And forget screening -- in the states it can take forever to get in to see a dermatologist, but as I recall once you do, they'll look you over from head to toe and make sure nothing funny is going on. There's none of that here.

Anway, that was that, and then I was out on the street with the rest of the day to kill. I went to a nearby Starbucks, where I sat out on the pavement beneath an awning and read. It was a gloomy morning, drizzly and damp, and people passed to and fro in front of my table, with South End Green across the street.

This area appears to be a sort of hub for bus service, as several buses pulled up while I was there, including one bound for Canada Water, in the southeastern part of the city. I can't quite imagine how that bus goes all the way down there but I'm tempted to take it one of these days to find out.

Anyway, from there I walked home and spent the afternoon reading on the couch with Bailey.

She got wildly excited about a squirrel in the avocado tree outside. I let her out the back door so she could bark at it from the patio.

I'm about halfway through Thomas Mallon's diaries. Reading this book is a peculiar experience because so far I've personally known two people he's mentioned! One was just an acquaintance I met through a professional group, but the other is a friend from New York who I actually went out with several times soon after I moved to the city. We're still friends on Facebook. I'll have to ask him how he feels about turning up in a published diary. Mallon calls him "old-fashioned" and said he's the kind of guy who, at a diner, would order pie and coffee. I have no idea what that's supposed to mean. I would order pie and coffee myself.

Other interesting observations from Mallon:

On the Iran Contra hearings (July 7, 1987): "Interesting as today was, these hearings -- the whole scandal -- is missing something. What's really needed is someone like Martha Mitchell. A lot of laws may have been broken here, but there's too much dignity to the scandal: idealogical zealotry can't compete with venality, power madness, hysteria & sheer stupidity -- all of which made Watergate so exciting."

On meeting author David Leavitt at a party (April 24, 1987): "There are no bones in Leavitt's hand. It's like shaking a chicken patty."

On Russian poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko (May 11, 1987): "A reading I did not go to. I decided to give the Rod McKuen of Occupied Kabul a miss. I saw him about 15 years ago at the Felt Forum, when I was a starry-eyed détentist." (I interviewed Yevtushenko for my college newspaper, apparently while he was on the same speaking tour -- my article came out just weeks before Mallon wrote this. I wish I'd thought to call him "the Rod McKuen of Occupied Kabul.")

On politicians and their retrograde responses to the AIDS crisis (June 2, 1987): "Cuomo wants to put in jail people who pass the virus on to others; Koch wants to test all tourists coming into the city."

And on being nervous about a romantic partner taking an HIV test (Sept. 27, 1987): "There's no way it could have passed between him and me, in either direction, unless everything they say is completely wrong." (This resonated with me because I often endured these exact same thoughts in the era of HIV and AIDS -- replaying every careful encounter in my mind, mindful of the fact that the doctors were still figuring out exactly what passed on the virus and what didn't. It was a terrifying time to be a gay man.)