Trimming Mrs. Kravitz's Bush

Our orange dahlia is blooming...

...as are our stargazer lilies. 

But the big news in our garden yesterday was this:

See that limb lying on the ground behind Olga? Well, Mrs. Kravitz and I actually cooperated on a garden project! That limb is from her pyracantha bush, which she had sculpted into a fairly neat oval ball next to her fence, except for one renegade branch that was growing up from the back and into our walnut tree. Yesterday I asked if I could cut it off. She enthusiastically said yes (she loves cutting anything down) and said her own gardener had been unable to reach it, which is why it had grown to such ridiculous lengths.

I got out the saw and removed it. You can't really appreciate its size -- it's easily six feet tall and it almost filled two yard waste bags by itself.

(Oh, and yes, that is my lunch lying next to Olga, or the remains of it, anyway. I'd been sitting next to her reading when I heard Mrs. K in the garden and got started on this project. I did eventually eat the carrot. I set my glasses on the plate so I wouldn't step on them.)

So, yes, I trimmed Mrs. Kravitz's bush. (The joke had to be made.) Then I trimmed the shrubbery beside our front steps and tied back all the valerian, because Mrs. Russia has been grousing about how the plants are overgrowing the steps. That landscaping is a bit out of control, I admit, but technically the front garden is the landlord's responsibility so we don't really mess with it.

Afterwards, Dave and I took Olga to the cemetery, where we saw:
 

...a six-spot burnet! I've been watching for them all summer. They usually come out in late June or early July, so I was glad to finally see one.

Now Dave is off to Seattle for a music educators' conference -- he left this morning. (And he just texted me to say he accidentally departed wearing the dog-walking shoes. Fortunately he has other footwear in his suitcase.) It's me and Olga on our own until next weekend. I'm actually looking forward to some alone time, and a chance to eat simply and watch the TV shows that Dave doesn't like ("Bosch: Legacy").

Did you see that Jane Birkin died? I watched her just a few days ago in "Blow-Up." When I lived in Florida, back in the late '90s, I often listened to a community radio station in the car when I drove home for lunch. A deejay on that station always concluded his lunchtime show by playing "Je T'aime...Moi Non Plus," the record Birkin made with Serge Gainsbourg in 1969 in which she moans breathily and pre-orgasmically. I will always associate that song with driving in sunny Florida, the air conditioner blasting.

Two Pairs of Twins

Yesterday was a wild, windy day -- something about the hot weather in Europe pushing air currents northward to England, if I understood correctly. We're not getting the heat, fortunately -- our daytime temperatures are a very comfortable low 70s. But the plants in the garden are taking a beating. Yesterday I found some of the sunflowers slumped over and staked them up.

I had to get a routine blood test at the Royal Free Hospital, so I walked over in mid-morning and took care of that. Then I took Olga to the cemetery, where we encountered the sprites above, part of a disheveled grave decoration. (The houseflies are a nice touch. I think it was too windy for them to fly around, so they were parked there.)

I spotted these two in the window of a neighbor down the street. They're sometimes on the windowsill, but this is the first time I've seen them perched atop that stained glass. Cats are so funny -- any opportunity to gain a bit more altitude is always a good thing.

And that's it for life around here, unless you want to hear about me cleaning the bathroom!

Loony Netsuke Lovers

Yesterday was rainy, rainy, rainy. I barely left the house -- only to walk the dog in the early morning before the clouds opened. I'm happy for all the rain and it was soothing hearing it fall all day.

I spent the morning cleaning and doing some minor household tasks, and then settled down to finish Michiko Kakutani's book "The Death of Truth," which was an interesting look at the philosophies and forces that have combined to bring us the world of Donald Trump, where all reality is subjective and ephemeral. It was fairly scary but I'd heard a lot of it before -- mendacious politicians, partisan news organizations, voters living in increasingly siloed online communities, where they reinforce each other's darker impulses. I especially appreciated the early part of the book, which was a sort of survey of post-truth thinking over the years as expressed by other authors and philosophers. It's already a bit out of date, having been published in 2018 -- before the election of 2020, which so many of those siloed voters still believe to be falsified, and before the Jan. 6, 2021 attack on the U.S. Capitol -- but still interesting.

We canceled Olga's dog walk because of the rain.

I don't think she minded.

In the afternoon I watched "Blow-Up," Michelangelo Antonioni's 1966 noir mystery. It's one of my favorite movies and I bet I've seen it ten times, at least, but every time I watch it I see new things. I love the '60s "Swinging London" style. It was a good movie to watch after reading "The Death of Truth," actually, as it's all about a photographer struggling to understand what he's seen. It features a troupe of mimes who seem to suggest, at the end, that truth is subjective, or that we all live with illusions.

And speaking of movies, here's a postcard from tinseltown mailed in January 1989 that I bought in that junk shop in Greenwich I visited a few days ago. It's a rather boring card, I know -- in fact, the sender wrote the recipient, "I don't imagine you will put this card on your chimney-piece." But I liked what she had to say about the city: "L.A. is full of cars, bright sunshine, strident modern architecture, loony netsuke lovers, lots of alcohol and ethnic food -- all somewhat bewildering."

I haven't been to L.A. in about 15 years, but in my experience, that about sums it up.

(Top photo: An ornament on a garden wall in Cricklewood, on my walk on Thursday.)

Pigeon Man and Clitterhouse

I mentioned a few days ago that I intended to FaceTime with my mom and brother on the 12th -- my Mom's birthday. Well, as it turned out, the gods of technology did not smile upon us. Whether my brother's signal was weak within my mom's retirement center, or mine was weak where I was (and more on that in a second), we were unable to connect. He sent me photos, though, and I did FaceTime with him later to catch up on things.

I thought I'd be home when I arranged to talk to him, but some of Dave's friends from the states were passing through London and we wound up going to Rules for dinner with them. That's why I suspect my phone signal may have been part of the problem -- Rules is in Covent Garden and that area is always heaving with people in the evenings. Too many phones, not enough connectivity?

It's blackberry season in our garden again! Here's my first harvest. I eat most of them on my cereal but occasionally Dave will put some in a pie and we always leave the highest, least accessible berries for the birds.

I took two walks yesterday. The first, with the dog, barely counts for exercise purposes because these days she moves so slowly that my heart rate doesn't even go up. We did see Pigeon Man, though:

Pigeon Man is an older guy who wanders around the neighborhood surreptitiously dumping bags of crushed-up McVitie's biscuits on the sidewalk for the birds. He does it without even stopping. It seems harmless enough, but the authorities really don't want people feeding pigeons, which are considered pest birds. In fact, in the video above, there's a sign on the fence to that effect -- right above where he dumps the biscuits. Cheeky!

Anyway, I took a much longer walk in the afternoon -- about five miles -- up and around the Clitterhouse Playing Fields via Childs Hill Park. I used to walk Olga up that way but she can't go that far anymore, and I hadn't been up there myself in a couple of years. Someone's really improved the appearance of the little shop on the corner across from the playing fields -- it used to look terrible, and now (top photo) it's amazing! That little parade of school children in their orange hats was perfectly timed.

Greenland Pier to Greenwich

Having determined that I need to be more vigilant about exercising, I decided to walk another section of the Thames Path yesterday. I began where I stopped in late June, at Greenland Pier near Surrey Quays, and walked the riverfront about 3 miles past Greenwich.

The mural above, featuring wild birds of all sorts, was in Surrey Quays on the way to the starting point.

The path followed the river for a while. I watched some guys in a boat out on the water doing something involving hoisting a huge tank on a chain. They were wearing high-viz vests and blasting the Arctic Monkeys song "Fluorescent Adolescent," which I could hear clearly from shore. (Side note: The video for that song is the craziest thing I have ever seen.)

The path briefly cut inland at Deptford, where it crossed through several parks, including one named for Samuel Pepys who apparently lived there. I checked out the butterfly and wildlife garden, but didn't see much activity.

The path also passed a shuttered old pub, the Princess of Wales, which appears to be flats now. The building is for sale, if you're interested.

In Sayes Court Park, another green space, there's a fenced-off old mulberry tree that was allegedly planted by Russian Czar Peter the Great in 1698. Peter apparently visited London and stayed on the property, then the home of John Evelyn, a "great writer and herbalist" (according to my walking map). In fact, Evelyn complained that Peter and his entourage trashed the house, like a bunch of '70s rockers in a hotel room.

The fact that Peter wrecked the house makes it unlikely, in my mind, that he also planted a tree, but who am I to say?

There's also an elaborate monument to Peter the Great on the riverfront in Deptford. Apparently Vladimir Putin himself visited it back in 2003, three years after it was erected. A year ago some unidentified metal thieves attacked it with an angle grinder and damaged it, which is why half of it is now encased in green plywood. (The part beneath the wood is a figure of a court dwarf, which seems like it might be problematic from a sensitivity standpoint anyway.)

Here's the backside, so you can see what I mean.

From there, the path continued past lots of large apartment blocks to the Greenwich waterfront, with views of Canary Wharf across the river.

In Greenwich I diverged from the route so I could check out some antique shops, including the self-proclaimed junk shop where I bought a bunch of old photographic slides last fall. There were no more slides but I did spend quite a bit of time looking through a box of old (and not-so-old) photographs, including some that appeared to depict the same people who were in some of those slides. I bet I looked at 500 pictures, but I only bought a few -- most of them were boring, nondescript shots of blurry beaches, blurry hills, blurry castles.

Then it was back to the Thames, where I passed the flag-draped Trafalgar Tavern, which I'd photographed from the other side of the river in January.

I concluded my walk at the riverfront in Greenwich near this big dead heart. I'm hoping to keep walking more, so I'll be back on the trail continuing eastward soon enough!

Pink Party With Clones of My Mother

Olga and I came across these balloons on our morning walk a few days ago. I guess someone had a party! Aren't the colors in this picture great? I love that pink and how it picks up the rosy tones in the brick walls.

I had the strangest dream last night:

I was having dinner at a restaurant in Florida with some of my family. My mom was supposed to come and meet us there. I saw her approaching the entrance so I ran to meet her and we sat in the lobby for a quick talk before going to the table. As we talked I suddenly realized there were TWO of her, one sitting right next to her on the couch!

And then two MORE of her showed up, but these were younger versions, as she would have looked in her 20's. They were wearing yellow dresses and looked very 1950s.

"Mom, WHAT IS GOING ON?" I said.

"Shhhh..." she said, gesturing to her same-aged identical companion. "She's very sensitive about some things."

I was so stunned that there were multiple apparent clones of my mother that I went back to the table by myself. But then I realized she was supposed to come with me, so I ran out to the parking lot to try to find her. I thought I saw her in the distance so I ran after her into the Florida night. The shell marl parking lot was dark. A car drove by, with "Careless Whisper" by Wham! emanating from its windows. I didn't see mom.

I became aware that a man was following me. He looked a bit thuggish, wearing a blue polo shirt. He was smoking. I asked what he was doing.

"So you don't skip on your bill, innit," he said in a British accent.

And then I woke up.

Very strange. It's probably no coincidence that today is my mother's 86th birthday. My brother and I are supposed to FaceTime later today when he visits her, so I can wish her happy birthday, even though I'm sure she has no idea what day it is. I hope there's only one of her, and there's no Cockney bouncer in evidence!

Speaking of Florida, I got my monthly Florida Memory postcard yesterday, mailed by a still-anonymous (but probably related to me) person.

Bruce Mozert, the photographer, was apparently a pioneer in underwater photography and did much of his work at famously clear Silver Springs in Ocala. Ginger Stanley, his model, did stunt work in "The Creature from the Black Lagoon" and other films. Neither of them are with us any longer -- Stanley just died earlier this year at the age of 91.

You know how I said in yesterday's post that our garden was looking its "neatest" in that picture? Yeah, well, never mind. I spent all day yesterday working out there and filled four lawn waste bags with garden trimmings. There's always something to do, and the neatening is never done!

The most major change I made was cutting down a Cotoneaster shrub growing beneath the hazels. I've never liked it because it blocked some of our rose bushes, and I'm pretty sure it grew there on its own (as opposed to being planted by anyone). Apparently they're an invasive species, but they're also good for pollinators. In any case we still have a few more on the property. I hate to kill any plant but it had to go. Sometimes as a gardener you have to make tough decisions!

Lawn Health, Plant Health, My Health

I mowed the lawn again yesterday. Here's the finished result -- our high-summer garden looking its neatest. As you can see, I left a rectangle of unmowed grass once again at the right, allowing the daisies and other wildflowers to grow. I've gone back and forth about doing this in perpetuity. If I give it neatly defined borders so that it looks intentional, I think I can live with it, in the interest of giving bugs and other critters a home.

This is why I left that area unmowed. See those tiny plants? I wasn't sure of their identity; I thought they might be primulas, which would be cool, though I had the vague sense that was probably too much to hope for. Sure enough, my plant identifier app tells me they're teasels. I'm not sure we really want teasels in the middle of the yard, but then again, why not? It might make for some interesting landscaping next year.

Let's check in on some plants you may remember:

This is that sorry-looking hydrangea I found next to a trash can near Fortune Green in May 2022. As you can see, it has bounced back and even given us a flower.

And here's the buddleia that had been dumped out of its pot on Hampstead Heath back in 2019. It's in the background of the top photo here. It's quite large now and hard to photograph in its entirety because it's living amid a tangle of other plants, including our fig and our ornamental plum tree.

(Speaking of buddleia, I had an interesting exchange with Mrs. Kravitz yesterday. We have another large buddleia growing next to our fence. She asked me to cut it down because it obstructs her view from her terrace into our garden! I resisted saying, "That's the point." I did tell her I had no intention of cutting it down, though.)

Finally, here's a plant mystery I just don't understand. Remember several years ago I bought this sad-looking canna lily? Three years later, it's still sad-looking. This spring I put it in a much bigger planter (which has been partly colonized by some honesty and a few weeds, as you can see), gave it good soil, put it in direct sun and it's still a tattered, stunted little nub. I think something must be wrong with it. It has some new growth so I'm waiting to see what happens with that.

I read this article in The New Yorker about a pair of aesthetically-motivated art thieves and decided to buy the book that it's based on, by author Michael Finkel. In a surge of enthusiasm I bought his two earlier books, too (which are discussed in the same article). All of them sound really interesting. They should be here on Wednesday but I probably won't get to them right away, given the stack of stuff I already have to read!

Also, I went to the doctor yesterday to check up once again on my persistent cough -- which I've had for years but which has been bothering me more lately -- and an itchy spot on my nose that won't go away. The doctor basically said we've done all we can do about the cough. I've had plenty of imaging tests and they've all been clear. It seems to be related to acid reflux, and the only thing that helps is taking lansoprazole (Prevacid), which I recently restarted -- so I'm just going to keep up with that. I'm also cutting back on my evening gin & tonic and/or wine, which I'm sure affects it and which I probably needed to do anyway, to be honest. He said the itchy spot doesn't look like anything but to come back in two weeks if it's still there.

Also, he said I weigh 88 kilos, which would be 194 pounds! Can that possibly be true? I have never been that heavy in my life. My normal weight is something like 185 pounds. Obviously I need to get out and walk more!

It's great being in my mid-to-late 50's. 😒