What is it…

…with me and doormats?

That’s what I’m wondering.

When we lived in New York, we had an odd thing happen with our doormat. One day, it was just missing. Gone.

Who would steal a doormat?

That’s what we asked ourselves.

It was kind of a nuisance, but no big loss. It wasn’t like we had invested a lot of money, time or thought into choosing the doormat. We just shook our heads over the astonishing triviality of the theft and went about our day.

Next time we crossed our threshhold, the doormat was back.

What could this mean? Was someone playing a particularly pointless prank? Was the building’s porter moving it when he mopped the floor? Moving it out of sight?

We had no idea. A day or two went by, and then the doormat went missing again. It continued to vanish and return at odd intervals.

Eventually, we discovered that a homeless man was entering the building late on cold nights, collecting doormats and carrying them up to the stair landing next to the door to the roof. I guess they made some sort of bed, and he carefully returned them to their rightful doors in the morning. And, as usually happens, eventually he moved on—to a better place, as they say—which may or may not have been of this world.

Now, I live in Florida.

And my doormat has taken to moving in the night. Again.

It’s not disappearing. And heaven knows, it’s not cold enough for any homeless person to need it as insulation. It’s just migrating a foot or two.

Is it bears? An armadillo? A lizard the size of a Buick?

Maybe it’s a raccoon, or a dog with a strange liking or disliking for doormats. (If it’s a squirrel, that’s it. I will get that water cannon if it’s the last thing I do.)

I see no possibility of solving the mystery without time-lapse video.

But I’m wondering.

The nut catcher

That’s right.

I said “catcher,” not “cracker.”

Today’s Friday Find is fudging it a little bit, since I haven’t actually found this. I mean, I have found it—a link to it, anyway—but I haven’t used it. We’ll call it a future find, okay?

I’m talking about an item that I discovered through an article in last month’s issue of This Old House. Just as an aside, I’ll mention that I prefer Family Handyman to This Old House—but that’s just me, and this last issue did have a couple of good tips.

One of them was a recommendation for the nut catcher. Actually, its real name is “nut gatherer,” but I prefer “nut catcher”—even though it conjures up a vision, in a totally non-politically correct way, of some little man in a white coat chasing me with an over-sized butterfly net.

This nut catcher, however, has nothing to do with the balance of my mind. Except in so far as the number of acorns and sweet gum balls that fall into my yard drive me crazy. To say nothing of the safety issue of the spiky gum balls rocketing out of the side of the lawn mower at some exorbitant number of miles per hour.

The nut catcher looks like it would work—in a highly low tech way. It may not, of course, and the concept of ‘easy’ might be a relative term—but it doesn’t seem too expensive to take the chance. I’m thinking I might get one and try it out.

Meanwhile, for your listening pleasure. . .a little ditty that was extremely popular when I was in junior high school. (Please do not do the math. It was recorded some years earlier!)

Virtual rearrangment

…of furniture, that is.

My Monday Miracle this week was the rearrangement of my office furniture. And the Friday Find I promised you in that post is the online tool I used to help me figure out a new floor plan without succumbing to the cliché of countless cartoons.

You know the ones I mean—where the long-suffering husband manhandles the sofa from place to place only to end up restoring it to its original position while the wife stands by and points?

As I mentioned in the previous post, sliders saved the MotH’s* back—because I moved all the furniture myself—and Floorplanner saved my sanity—because I only moved it once.

Floorplanner is an online tool that allows you to create a floorplan and furnish it with all kinds of included pieces of furniture. Then you can view it in 2D or 3D and rearrange everything over and over without developing a hernia.

It’s easy to install, because you don’t install it. You work with it online, in your browser.

It’s fairly easy to use. All the furniture pieces can be resized to your dimensions. You just drag-and-drop them around your room and decide whether you like the new arrangement.

And it’s free.

Previously, I had purchased HGTV’s Home & Landscape Platinum Suite 2.0, and I tried to use it. Ultimately, I took advantage of their money-back guarantee and returned it. It was just too complicated for what I needed to do (and I could never figure out how to remove the grass I accidentally got growing in the living room).

Floorplanner let’s me draw a room and stick furniture in it. Then it lets me move the furniture around.

That’s all I wanted. That’s all I needed.

The big, expensive software packages are probably worth the time and money if you are an interior designer or a landscape contractor. I’m sure it’s nice to be able to show clients how the space will look all 3D and painted and lit.

But I just want to make sure there’s room to walk between the desk and the closet before I actually move the desk.

Floorplanner. Yay!

A rose by any other name*

…might not get the right plant food.

Today, I am very thankful for my friend Carole who has an uncanny ability (and, probably, some robust internet sources) to identify every plant I put in front of her—virtually speaking.

When we bought Casa Lagarto, we became the proud owners of a lot of flora and foliage. Previously, I could recognize a pine tree, a cactus, a daffodil and a rose. Also, hyacinth and hydrangeas. And not much else.

But here’s the value of networking—and a reminder that your network isn’t just your business acquaintances.

The first thing that happened is that my mom’s garden club held a meeting at my house. After lunch by the water and their business meeting, they walked me around my yard and identified 90% of my botanical holdings.

There were a few things they didn’t recognize, and that’s where Carole came in. She has unhesitatingly identified the Fringe Tree, the Mexican Hydrangea and the Spider Lily. Also, the Canna Lily.

From pictures.

It’s an amazing talent!

And now everything in the garden is not only lovely, it has a name.

So, what’s in a name?

Sure, names don’t alter the essential nature of the thing being named. On the other hand, if you’ve got a broken arm, you really don’t want your doctor calling it a brain tumor. Trouble will ensue.

A plant without a name renders my essential botanical cluelessness even more deadly to said plant than it might otherwise be. What generally saves them is my laissez faire attitude toward gardening. Non-interference results in more weeds than are strictly necessary, but it supports the “First, do no harm” doctrine that is at the heart of my horticultural practice.

With a name, I can look things up. I can research the best time of year for pruning, whether they need extra water (not too much of a problem in this year of the unending deluges), etc. In addition, cause of death can be narrowed to something other than “I did something wrong.” The carnation died from lack of water, the vinca died from too much water, but the begonia has survived because I recognized it needed water!

I don’t have a green thumb. But I do have good and knowledgeable friends, and any plants that perish have only me to blame.

Thanks, Carole!

* Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Sc. 2 (Flapdoodle!)

They’re out to get me

. . .and just because I’m paranoid, it doesn’t mean they’re not.

I may have mentioned before that I have Wizard of Oz trees.

You remember that scene, right? In the apple orchard? Somebody–the scarecrow, I think–says something insulting to the trees, and the next thing you know, our heroes are being pelted with apples. The bombardment drives them out of the orchard and further on down the Yellow Brick Road.

What happens at my house is somewhat more sinister–because I don’t recall any insulting words being passed prior to the attacks.

My arboreal acquaintances began their campaign innocently enough. Sweetgum balls and acorns dropped onto the driveway and the lawn. This is somewhat hazardous to lawn mower blades but in the natural order of things, right? To be expected.

In short order, however, we began to notice that the balls, beads and seeds tended to fall in surprisingly close proximity to our heads whenever we were outside. Almost as if the trees were taking aim.

So, okay, that’s a bit paranoid. Just a matter of happenstance, surely.

Why, then, on a dry and totally windless day, would a sweetgum limb crash down on the driveway mere minutes after I had walked beneath it? The timing was such that it brought a group of teenage boys racing across the road, certain they were going to have a chance to rescue me (or, perhaps, steal my ruby slippers).

And why, on a subsequent dry and totally windless day, would another sweetgum limb crash down on the driveway mere seconds before the MotH* backed the car through that exact spot?

So, that summer (last one) went on like that with branches falling here and there with no provocation.

This summer has been less prone to arboreal accidents. I’d almost forgotten that the trees are out to get me.

But yesterday, I parked in my cousin’s driveway under a hickory tree. There’s now a fifty-cent-piece size dent in the hood of my car. It’s from a hickory nut. I’d say a “fallen hickory nut,” except it is clear to me that it was thrown with great force.

I’m just issuing a fair warning to all the timber in my vicinity. There’s a chain saw in the garage–and such a thing as self-defense.

Watch yourselves.

* Man of the House

A college of cardinals

No, we’re not electing a Pope.

“College” is one of the collective nouns for a flock of cardinals–as in birds. Others are “conclave,” “radiance,” “deck,” and “Vatican.” Alliteration explains “college” and “conclave,” and I get why “radiance” would come into play. “Vatican,” too, makes some sense. But, “deck?” Is it a reference to “deck of cards?” I guess it must be, but–note to whoever makes these things up–I think you’re reaching.

Anyway, the cardinals are a Monday Miracle.

They’re back.

One of the minor miracles about cardinals is that I can recognize them. My skills as a naturalist are about average. I can identify most four-legged creatures and tell the difference between a bird, a snake and a fish. After that, it gets somewhat hazy.

I mean, distinguishing one bird from another? Well, I’ve gotten to where I recognize the ospreys and the Great Blue Herons and the bald eagles. Woodpeckers are clear. And owls. Most of the other little feathered things that flit around. . .many of them look alike.

But cardinals!

Bright red.

Crests.

And a song that I’m beginning to know. (Unless I’m confusing it with the Carolina Wren, which is entirely possible.)

Now, when I say ‘they’re back,’ I can’t swear to the fact that they’ve ever gone away. But I have been noticing quite a few of them hanging around in the last few days.

They provide a nice note of complementary color in the yard. It goes well with the pine cone ginger–and my roof. And they chirp up a storm. Last year, they demonstrated a love for sprinklers which they have not gotten to indulge lately, but I’m thinking that may be a reason to install a birdbath. Maybe one with a spray fountain? Solar-powered, if I can find it. (Another of those “someday,” things. Probably, I should focus on furniture first.)

All of this is to say, I am happy that a college of cardinals is convening conveniently close at hand.

The Fountain of Youth

It is here in Florida.

They say that you keep yourself young by continuing to learn new things.

I say there’s probably a lot of truth to that.

I also say does it have to be boring things? Scary things? As we get older, suddenly we need to learn about a host of medical issues–bone loss, prostate troubles, hearing aids and more stuff to do with our teeth than the actual number of teeth we probably still have!

Fortunately, I’m still young enough that the worst is yet to come. On the other hand, my husband is a good bit older than I, and I’ve moved a lot closer to my mom.

What actually started me thinking about this post wasn’t the delights of aging. It was thinking about all the new things I’ve had to learn since we bought Casa Lagarto, and the one new thing on the horizon.

I have a well, now. An aerator. Security lights and alarm systems. A septic tank and a drain field. A gas fireplace. One enormous exhaust fan in the garage. A hot water heater, a central vacuum and an air handler.

I didn’t have all of that when I lived in an apartment. And the one thing I did have that made whatever else I had incidental was a super. Yay, Santos! I miss him.

My latest area of investigation–having done the whole air conditioner, fireplace, boat lift thing–is drainage. Because it rained so much in August (30 out of 31 days) and it came down so fast sometimes that the ground could not absorb it. I watched small boggy places grow into puddles and then grow into pools where goldfish could have swum. And then I watched them come up over the concrete slab of the front porch and head for the front door.

My neighbor said, “Did they tell you? If we have a hurricane, you will have water coming in your front door.”

Great.

To be honest, I am doubtful that it will come in the front door. We’ve just had more rain than we’ve had in a hundred years, I’m told. I’m not sure, however, how that is any insurance that we won’t have more at some point. Like the investing prospectuses all say: “Past performance is no guarantee of future results.”

So, I’m looking for solutions to–I don’t know–re-contour the ground? Re-route the water? Gutters, maybe, would be a good first step. There’s a thing that looks like a horizontal set of Venetian blinds that might work. (If I could remember what it’s called long enough to Google it.) I’ve already bought a thing called a Hydrabarrier which looks like it might be quite effective.

Meanwhile, anybody know anything about French drains?

The rain no longer raineth every day

Flapdoodle?*

When we first moved to Florida, we were in a drought. I had to buy sprinklers and remember my watering days to have any hope of getting the grass in my lawn to recover.

And then we got Tropical Storm Debbie.

Tons of rain!

The grass–it was so happy! It grew and grew. (So did the weeds, but that’s another story.)

And then it kept raining. And raining. And raining. Almost every day. It’s a good thing the grass started to grow to help keep the dirt from washing into the creek. (A lot of it did, anyway.)

It has rained so much that the split-leaf philodendron is turning yellow. The tomato plant has shriveled up. And one of the vincas has given up the ghost. (That’s a shame, because it was a pretty pink one.) The hydrangea, on the other hand, is thriving.

I know the Midwest is having a terrible time with a drought right now. The cost of everything is going up because of it.

So, I feel guilty saying this, but it seems like a miracle that we’ve had a couple of days without rain. It’s hard to do yard work when everything is soggy. Thunder and lightning interfere with my ability to use my computers. They interfere with my ability to use my treadmill! They just interfere.

It is fascinating to watch the rain over the creek. So, there’s that. It has a habit of raining over the water for a good 5 to 10 minutes before it comes on land–which is weird. Part of that weird Florida phenomenon where it can rain on one side of the street and not the other. (I once drove into rain at a red light and out of it when the light changed. That’s how localized a storm can be here.)

But I’m tired of watching walls of water move. I’m really glad it’s stopped raining–even if only temporarily.

* Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, or What You Will Act VI, Sc 1. Also, King Lear, Act II, Sc 3. (If you got both of them, you get two Flapdoodle points!)

Minn-Kota and Manatees

Waterfront living.

We’re finally getting our waterfront lifestyle together. We’ve had a small boat for a while. And our house has a boat ramp. It’s not so easy, however, to put the boat in and out of the water, since we don’t have a truck with a hitch (and since I don’t really want a truck running over my labyrinth several times a week).

So, we had to put up a boat lift.

No sooner did we get that done than all kinds of things got in the way of excursions. We had company. We had to go on a series of trips. The weather has been god-awful hot, and who wants to be out on the water in the baking sun under those conditions? We had other house projects that needed work. And then, it rained. Day after day. (The grass is looking good–but then, you have to mow the grass.)

All of this is leading up to today’s Monday Miracle–which is the latest improvement to the whole boating thing.

We got a trolling motor. A Minn-Kota Edge. Yesterday, we took it on a shake-down cruise.

It works great!

It’s bow-mounted, and so easy to put in and out of the water. Five speeds, forward and reverse, so it can get you moving pretty fast–if that’s what you want. And it’s so quiet.

This is how I like to travel by boat. I prefer the slow speed. And the quietness is great. We came right up on some manatees just hanging out in the back part of the creek where there are no houses. Because the motor is quiet, we could get fairly close. Because it is slow, we were in no danger of injuring them.

I love having manatees in the back yard. (The alligators–not so much.)

(Speaking of alligators and manatees, you can check out the Manatee Web Cam. It’s off-season for manatees at Blue Spring, so they are alternating live manatee-less streams with some videos. I like the one where the manatee chases the alligator out of the water — althoug, at my house, I’m hoping they just leave them in the water.)

Didn’t I ever tell you about Bumbles?

Bumbles bounce!

That, for anyone who has been living in a cave since 1964, is a quote from the Rankin/Bass Christmas TV special produced in stop motion animation and entitled Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer. (If you have been living in a cave and want to see a little clip of the relevant section, click here.)

For some reason, it’s pretty much all I remember about that TV special–other than the totally unimportant fact that Rudolph’s girlfriend is named Clarice. But I do remember that line, because it always made me laugh. (Upon investigation, I discover that it was said by Yukon Cornelius–and wouldn’t you think that name would be the thing that made me laugh? It was his explanation of why he wasn’t killed when he fell over the cliff with the Abominable Snowman [the Bumble].)

I thought of it today for a totally unrelated reason. I find, to my surprise, that grasshoppers eat window screens. It’s not enough that they are tearing my plants to shreds. They have started in on the screens–which were not in the best of shape anyway.

When I discovered this, a voice–more like a wail–sounded inside my head. Why didn’t anybody ever tell me about grasshoppers eating screens? The next voice in my head was Yukon Cornelius’s Didn’t I ever tell you about Bumbles? And then I laughed.

(Nobody ever knows why I laugh suddenly for no apparent reason. Usually, I try not to do it out loud. As you can see, an explanation probably wouldn’t actually convince anyone that I am not crazy. But I am endlessly entertained by the amusing things bouncing around my brain, even if they are only amusing to me.)

The grasshoppers, however, are not amusing. They are destructive. I would have thought, as I posted previously, that the lizards would have helped me in this regard. But, no. We have to do it ourselves.

And another disconcerting fact about grasshoppers is that they don’t die quietly. They crunch. (Shudder!)

But this Friday’s Find is the worst.

The plants will grow back.

The screens, however, are not self-regenerating.

You’d think a grasshopper would find them indigestible. You’d think a grasshopper that was crazy enough to eat window screening would die quietly, poisoned by the aluminum or the fiberglass or whatever it is. But no. They continue on their inexorable path.

I like to live in harmony with all living things, but I gotta say. . .I’m starting not to mind the crunch so much.

Elaine Smith Writes

Anything She Wants

Category Archives: Casa Lagarto