A Glowing Garden Update

When I got home from work yesterday, my first full week of work in ages, Dave and I walked around the garden and surveyed the growth. The sun was hitting the back of the fresh, new leaves on the hostas...

...and our sage had sent out its first modest purple flowers.

The dark pink valerian is blooming, and we have buds on the white valerian and also a lighter pink variety.

Another of the foxgloves I grew from seed is blooming. This is the color I expected them to be, based on the seed packet -- but we have two that are bright purple as I showed you several days ago. I guess there's a certain amount of variability in any packet of seeds. (I actually like the purple ones better so I'm cool with that.)

You may remember that last fall, a co-worker gave us some foxglove seedlings. A reader asked whether those could be the purple ones. But they're all still too small to bloom. I think they'll flower next year.

Our new lupines are embarrassingly robust.

I unblocked the hole in our exterior wall -- the one used as an access point by our recently discovered rats -- and I could see neither the poison administered by the exterminator nor the rats themselves. So I can't remove either from beneath the house. I put a heavy piece of concrete over the hole to keep it blocked until we can have it repaired, and I think I'll add some screening for good measure.

I finished our library inventory yesterday, and we're missing about 80 items. This is terrible, considering that past year-end inventories usually find about ten books missing. As I mentioned yesterday, part of it is no doubt due to the removal of our security gates, and also to our chaotic year, particularly in the run-up to closing the school in March. I'm not surprised some people walked away with stuff that was never checked out. Hopefully it will be returned when the time comes.

I forgot how physically exhausting inventory can be -- shifting heavy books, reaching for high shelves, kneeling for low ones. (Fortunately I have good knees.) We have a gigantic set of literary criticism reference books that we keep in storage on shelves two deep, and hauling all of those out to scan them is always a nightmare. I honestly don't know why we haven't gotten rid of those things. No one ever uses them and I bet it's all online now anyway.

I forgot to mention that when I talked to one of my co-workers on Monday (from a safe social distance), he asked me if I knew anyone who had COVID. I said no, and he said he didn't either. Whenever someone asks that, I fear they're about to launch into conspiracy theories about how it's all a hoax -- and that's more or less what he did, but instead of arguing that it's a hoax he argued that it was deliberately engineered in a Chinese laboratory, because "the world has never seen anything like this." I said, "Well, we had SARS and MERS, which were similar." But you know how it is -- when people decide they believe something, they're not going to let go of it. I don't understand why people have so much trouble understanding that a novel virus can naturally arise under the right circumstances. Why does there have to be a bad guy?

A Kicking Sticker

Here's something you're not likely to see again on Shadows & Light -- a sports-related post! In fact, it may be my first.

It's only tangentially sports-related, though. While I was walking on the Heath with Olga a couple of weeks ago, I saw this bit of a shiny sticker or decal lying on the ground in an off-the-beaten-path wooded area. I'm always intrigued by interesting old logos, graphics or artwork, so I picked it up and put it in my bag until I could take a closer look.

When we got home, I carefully unfolded and scanned it, and this is the image I got:

(I had to tape it onto some paper to get it to lie flat.)

The words at the top, I believe, say Derby County, which is an English football club. Their nickname is the Rams. I can't find a similar Derby County sticker or logo anywhere online, though, which makes me think it's either quite old or it's a different team entirely and I'm simply misreading it. What do you think? (If you have any opinion at all on this, and I won't hold it against you if you don't.)

Sorry again about the misery of yesterday's post. I was happy to hear that many of you have your own rat stories -- it made me feel less alone! I bought a couple of snap traps yesterday, but they weren't used overnight and the rats have gone silent, so I assume they've died. I'm going to see what I can do about cleaning up the remains but I'm not sure I can get to them. The exterminator assured Dave we wouldn't smell them if we left them under the house, but that seems unlikely.

I'm almost done with library inventory -- I ought to be able to wrap it up today. So far we're missing a fair amount of stuff -- about 75 items, maybe? This was our first full academic year since we removed our semi-functional security gates, which used to beep if anyone tried to leave the library with something they hadn't checked out. The gates were expensive to maintain, so we decided to just get rid of them and go to an honor system. We knew a little more stuff than usual might go wandering, but I think we may have lost more than we expected. Of course, a lot of it could still come back, if people simply forgot to check something out and later return it anyway -- and it's been an unusually chaotic year, especially just before the school closed in March.

This leaves open the question of what I'll do at work next week, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Oh, Rats!

My story today is not for the squeamish. Musophobes and PETA members, look away now.

Several weeks ago, I began hearing scratching behind the wall or floorboards beside my bed. I assumed it was coming from outside, where we have some potted plants -- maybe squirrels were jumping around out there. But then, last week, while weeding the patio, I found a small hole in the exterior wall. The bricks had aged and apparently partly crumbled away next to an air vent leading to the crawl space beneath the house.

I knew something was living in there, so I set up my garden camera one night. In the morning, here's the image we saw:

Yep. Not mice, not squirrels, but plain old urban rats. Two of them. One would stay in the hole, and the other would run out and find things in the garden -- earthworms seemed to be a favorite -- and bring them back to the nest. (I actually have a five-minute video, but I'll spare you.)

This shouldn't have surprised me. You may remember we've occasionally had what we believed to be mice -- this is an old house with lots of nooks and crannies -- and I photographed a rat on our bird feeder last year. But I thought they were living outdoors, in the garden.

Coincidentally, that evening, Dave was making dinner and planned to use a small bag of baby potatoes I'd bought that week at the grocery store. He opened the pantry to find an empty, gnawed bag, all ten or twelve little potatoes gone!

So not only were the rats in the house, they were in the kitchen. And we can't have that. I am an animal lover through and through, but I have my limits. That's a health risk to us. The rats had signed their death warrant.

We decided to call an exterminator, and found one who advertised humane trapping -- for an extra charge, they said, they'd take the animal to a "rural area" and release it. We thought this was kind of funny -- they probably just take it out to the van and club it over the head -- but I was adamant that I did not want poison. I was afraid dying rats would escape into the garden and get eaten by something else, contaminating the food chain and killing a predator like a fox or owl. So we called them.

Unfortunately, all this unfolded on Friday, which was a holiday. By the time midday Monday came around Dave still hadn't heard back from them, and I'd gone to work. Dave, feeling the situation was urgent, called another exterminator -- a much more traditional one. He came right away and spread poison in the rat hole and under the cabinets in the kitchen. He blocked the hole so the animals couldn't get back outside.

He told Dave that he believed the bird feeders were our problem, and recommended we remove them.

Unfortunately, this has created a complete nightmare for me. For two nights now, I've heard the rats trying to get out of the hole, and I am sick about what we are doing to them. I'm completely torn up about it. Last night I seriously considered opening the hole just to get their frantic gnawing noises to stop, but I didn't because I knew they'd probably already eaten some of the poison and would potentially take it out into the wider world. We're now committed to our course and have to just stick with it.

In retrospect, I wish we'd just bought big ol' snap traps and handled the problem ourselves. I think we only have a couple of rats, not a serious infestation, and at least with a snap trap death is immediate. Apparently these poisons take days, and then they're lying around under the house (with the dead animals) forever afterwards. This is EXACTLY THE SITUATION I DID NOT WANT!

So I'm not sleeping, and I'm wrestling with all kinds of horrifying images and feelings. It's not Dave's fault, really -- he just wanted to solve the problem and he is far less conflicted about it than I am. ("I have opposable thumbs," he says.) I'm not sure he understands my reaction, and honestly, it probably is silly and self-indulgent to be so upset.

For what it's worth, the experts say humanely trapped rodents that are released elsewhere rarely survive anyway. I may go buy some big snap traps today in an effort to get the job done faster. And once these rats are gone, I'm considering picking up and disposing of all that poison, or at least as much of it as I can collect. I believe the council will take it as hazardous waste.

Meanwhile, we're communicating with the maintenance company to get the hole permanently fixed.

I'm sorry I've inflicted all this on you, but I had to tell the tale and get it off my chest.

(Top photo: Some chalk art on a log at Hampstead Heath.)

A Yarn Rainbow and Luddite Technology

One thing I realized about going back to work -- it consumes a lot of my day, leaving me less time to think about what I'm going to blog. (Scanning books for library inventory really isn't worth a post, although I confess I do love it. It's solitary, quiet work that fulfills my inherent need to organize.) So, anyway, here are some recent iPhone photos!

I thought this was an interesting twist on all the rainbow posters and murals thanking the NHS -- one made of yarn.

Here's Olga posing in front of a bush in Mrs. Kravitz's front garden. I don't remember what this plant is called, but we have one too. Ours is much less impressive than Mrs. Kravitz's.

I liked the lights on this Land Rover, made to resemble smiley faces.

Follow the arrows to the obviously groovy basement flat!

Found on Hampstead Heath -- the rare orange-peel lobster.

I came across this car on a recent dog walk -- it's a Triumph Herald, made between 1959 and 1971. (I think it's fairly brave to leave a convertible parked on a London street with its top down, even in broad daylight.)

I found several of these rocks under some trees on a Hampstead street. I left them there -- we all need this reminder right about now, don't we?

When I was unwrapping magazines in the library Monday, I came across this advertisement, which proves that everything old is new again! I love the ad copy, obviously aimed at a generation for whom a manual typewriter is a novel invention: "NO COMPUTER REQUIRED! This neat machine requires no power, is always at hand and is complete with all you need to start your work straight away." It even comes with its own carrying case (they act like that's novel, too) -- all for the not-so-low price of £215, or $264!

And finally, one of the pubs I pass on my walk to work -- which I've featured on the blog several times -- is not only closed but seems well and truly fortified. I hope they're planning to reopen when all this virus stuff is over.

Bottle Bonanza

Yesterday on my way to work I passed a pile of rubbish in the street with some clay flowerpots sitting on top. I thought, "I could use those!" So I grabbed them, and when I did I noticed a nearby container, also in the rubbish pile. It was in a box along with some cans of old paint, and covered with grime and leaves as if it had spent years in someone's garage or shed. On the top were several odd-looking brown bottles.

I realized they were old Bovril bottles. Bovril is a beef extract that can be either made into a hot drink or eaten as a spread, sort of like Marmite. (I've never had it but apparently it's still being made.) And beneath the Bovril bottles were other parcels wrapped in old tissue paper, containing what felt like glass objects. I picked up the whole container and took it to work with me.

It wasn't until I got home in the evening that I had a chance to unwrap everything and take a closer look.

There were about 30 little antique bottles, clearly someone's erstwhile collection. They looked like pharmaceutical bottles, maybe -- long and thin. Only a few (aside from the Bovril bottles, which are all marked) had embossed words on them. One said "Breidenbach London" and one said "Hindes." Breidenbach was apparently a Victorian perfume maker.

Here are the Bovril bottles, once they'd been cleaned up a bit. There are four sizes. I read on this fascinating blog (and how did I not know about a blog specializing in Victorian trash?) that they're probably from between 1918 and 1930. From what I can tell they have machine-made lips, as opposed to hand-tooled lips, and were originally sealed with corks.

What a fascinating haul! And I'm so glad I got to it before the rubbish men. I can't imagine why someone tossed out such old and interesting objects. It would have been a shame to have them ground up into recycling. Those are my favorites in the top photo, sitting on our windowsill. It makes me wonder what else is in that pile. If it's still there this morning I may take a closer look! (Dave will love that.)

And oh yeah, being back at work? Well, it felt great. I had a lot to do and it kept me busy all day -- and yet I only interacted with five or six people because the school is mostly locked up and dark. It's an ideal working situation if you're trying to avoid contagion! I began our book inventory, processed all the magazines that had arrived in the last couple of months, and neatened things up overall. There's plenty more to do so I'll be busy for the rest of this week at least.

The main downside, as I see it, is that there's no lunch available in the building because the cafeteria is closed -- I had to run out to a nearby Pret (amazingly still open) for a takeaway lunch that cost me almost £10. I'll probably pack a lunch today. Also, because the coffee machines in the staff lounge are turned off, the only available coffee is instant. I suppose I can cope with Nescafe. It reminds me of Africa -- when I traveled through West Africa in the early '90s Nescafe was often the only available coffee!

Those are minor complaints, I know, compared to all the problems afflicting the world.

Lockdown Art and a Cold Snap

Someone has converted this boarded-up restaurant around the corner into an art project called "40 Days -- Lock Down." Poems are laid out horizontally, one for each day, and numbered 1 through 39. Number 40 is still blank, and beside that it says, "End...?"

I haven't read all the poems, but here's a random example. I love how the grammar police intervened on this one.

Our lockdown isn't ending, but it's also not quite a lockdown anymore. We're not sure what it is, to be honest. The government has decided to change its official "Stay Home" demand to "Stay Alert," which has prompted a lot of head-scratching. Boris has said that people who can't work from home should now go to work, and we can all be outdoors more (exercising for unlimited times and even sunbathing -- not that I ever sunbathe). There will be a phased reopening of schools and shops beginning June 1. Restaurants and pubs, though, will stay closed until at least July.

This announcement comes at a perfect time, since I'm due to return to work this morning. We'll see what that's like. Fortunately, I live close enough to walk, so I don't have to brave public transport (still not recommended). And most of the school is still closed so I shouldn't encounter many people.

Apparently there's a guy walking around North London wearing a medieval plague doctor outfit. I'm glad some people are being creative in these crazy days, making life interesting for the rest of us.

Our foxgloves, which you may remember I grew from seed last summer, have just started flowering. I thought they were supposed to be apricot-colored, but this one (above) is clearly more purple. It also looks a little different from the other plants -- more robust and darker green. I think some mutant seeds got into that packet.

Our cold snap has arrived. Right now it's 40ºF, and I was lounging on the lawn in shorts only yesterday morning! Temperatures began to drop in the early afternoon and steadily plummeted. It's certainly a dramatic change, considering we just finished the sunniest and one of the warmest Aprils on record.

I brought two of our five dahlias inside just to hedge my bets. I'm sure they'd be fine outside, because we're not getting frost, but I didn't want to lose all of them in a worst-case scenario. I also brought in our new lupines because they're quite tall and we were getting gusty winds yesterday evening. (We bought a second lupine, a hybrid called Rachel de Thame, after a well-known gardening television presenter.) Plant drama!

I called my mom yesterday to wish her Happy Mother's Day. We had a quick conversation -- about ten minutes, and once again I got three "I love yous" and lots of laughter. She seemed to think it was pretty funny that I was unable to send her flowers. Mom has become quite a character in her old age.

My Old Lady

Yesterday was warm and sunny, so Olga and I ventured out to Hampstead Heath in the morning, starting earlier than normal to avoid bank holiday weekend crowds. We were somewhat successful. There were quite a few people out and about, but we were able to steer clear of them.

Above, Olga poses with the mysterious tumulus in the background. She rolled in grass and rolled in mud and carried her Kong and had a good time overall.

Although she was pretty energetic once we got to the Heath, getting her there took a while. She walks much more slowly these days, and there's a lot of sniffing and exploring along the way. Walking an older dog is an exercise in patience. At one point, we passed a little boy with his mother, and the boy acted frightened. I heard his mother say, "Don't worry. When it was younger that dog might have been scary, but now I think it's quite old." Indeed! I was indignant on Olga's behalf! She's only ten at most.

On the theory that she may be having some joint pain, we've ordered glucosamine dog treats, and we're going to see if those help her move a little more freely. I did give her paracetamol when we got back home, as I sometimes do after a long walk.

We went back to Athlone House to see the azaleas and rhododendrons, even though they've already faded a bit. Here's a close-up of the yellow one I mentioned last weekend. A rhodie, if I'm not mistaken.

Some interesting finds along the way:

This old bottle cap is interesting only because it's stamped "7 1/2 p" on the top. Surely that's not the price?! There's no sign of any maker or specific product, but that seems ridiculously cheap for any bottled liquid, even for back in the day. Actually, it looks like it might say "ED 7 1/2 p" -- I wonder if it's some kind of duty or tax? Do any of my British friends know?

Halfpenny coins haven't been minted since 1984, so perhaps that's an indication of its age.

Here are some other little odds and ends -- a few pottery chips and something that looks like a tiny amphora or jug. I think it once had a handle, on the right, but that's now broken off. I wonder what the story is there? It's solid, whatever it is, so it's just for show.

Last night Dave and I dined al fresco in the garden once again, with another dinner from Hide. It's a nice way to do something special during these crazy days! The menu this time: A crab and asparagus starter, poussin with fregola and romaine salad, and sticky toffee pudding for dessert. Oh, and a bottle of excellent Chardonnay!

Apparently we're in for a bit of a cold snap. The temperatures are supposed to drop to a low of 41ºF tonight and 38ºF tomorrow. I was thinking I might bring in the dahlias, with their brand-new tender growth, but I'm not sure that's cold enough to do them any damage, especially on our patio. I might just risk it.