It's so interesting how some insects have such specific plants that they eat. I'm glad my whole garden isn't being eaten by beetles.
It has very sturdy stems which make it good as a cut flower.
It's so interesting how some insects have such specific plants that they eat. I'm glad my whole garden isn't being eaten by beetles.
Here is another very short story.
Susie
After getting into bed at her foster home, Katie quietly called to Ginger, the Labrador, who slept in her room.
"Ginger," she whispered, "I am going to tell you more about Susie."
Ginger came and sat near her, ready for the bedtime story and some pats.
"Susie likes cheesies better than chips, just like me. She doesn't like shouting and hitting. She's really smart and runs super fast. We used to play in the back alley. We pretended we were princesses and had unicorns."
Katie paused and smiled. "She's my best friend. You are, too."
"I told you she's a mouse, right?"
Tall native grass, looks lovely blowing in the wind.
I rarely have success overwintering the dahlia tubers. I watched a couple of Youtubers from Colorado who had substantial plantings of dahlias. They got tired of digging them up, storing them and replanting them so they both independently tried to just put a big mulch over them. It worked quite well - about 80% survived. So I am going to try that with the two dahlias I have planted in the ground. They put a tarp on the ground over the dahlia tubers and then put lots of stray, leaves, etc. They recommended not putting the mulch directly on the ground as it would make a cozy spot for mice and other little creatures.
The little yellow and orange dahlia that I planted in a pot I will try to overwinter in the pot in the basement. I will let it dry out and just give it a tiny bit of water once in a while. At least the tubers shouldn't get moldy that way.
Since I get fewer views on Youtube than I get on this blog, I've decided to put my very short stories up here instead. They will go up about once a week.
Lightning
Paul had mentored Brad for several weeks and they were developing a good rapport. Brad was at the residential centre for juveniles because of drug charges, petty theft. They worked together cutting grass, tending gardens. Gradually, Brad began to talk about his past: his foster homes, his mother's addictions. He shared with Brad that he wanted a job to earn some money.
Paul arranged an off-site work placement with a landscaper one day a week.
Brad was happier; Paul celebrated their progress.
But one morning, Brad, like lighting thunder, lashed out, yelling, swearing, punching Paul. The past was not so easily left behind.
This story is loosely based on the experience of a friend of mine who worked with youth in a residential centre. My friend, a kind-hearted soul, didn't stay in the field. He got too emotionally involved with the kids and couldn't handle the realities of troubled lives. For those people who do stay in the work long-term, I have nothing but admiration.