Here We Go Again

My plan to use this blog as an aide-mémoire hasn’t progressed as well as I’d hoped. It’s been twelve days since my last post, and although nothing particularly exciting has happened - no riots, no house fires - it’s still been a longer gap than I intended.

So what did happen?

Still snail-watching.

Went to Portrush on a day out with Bert, Hannah and the big girls. They did not use all their Currie's tokens. Either I bought too many or they are tired of scary rides. Come to think of it, there's a definite air of ennui about them lately.

Watching a lot of teevee. Dept Q was a big favourite.

Became aware of a band called Bob Vylan.

Wondered why an old man dying of old age is such a big deal for the BBC.

Today was good, except for one thing.

I met an old work friend for coffee. That was good.

In the afternoon, Bert and I worked together in the garden. That was nice. We achieved a lot, dug up half of the papaver orientale and created a new area for planting. Displaced a lot of snails. Bert is very keen to replant but I want to wait a while. Snails are territorial, and when they return to their feeding grounds, which they will, they'll demolish anything new and tender. The big rough poppies could stand that, but my seed-grown agastaches might not. We'll wait a while until the snails move on. Fingers crossed that they do.

The not-so-good thing that happened?

I was just leaving the small polytunnel after watering the tomatoes when my foot caught in a clump of ox-eye daisies and down I went. My first thought being, 

Here we bloody well go again!

Hand out to save myself. Didn't work. It wasn't too bad. The ground around that polytunnel is soft and spongy, even more so since I left a hose running there for about 16 hours on Sunday evening. As I lay there, a bit winded, a brown butterfly flew past. I identified it as a Meadow Brown. And I knew that I was OK.

My left hand is a bit achey but it didn't prevent me from picking several pounds of strawberries and raspberries.

Tomorrow - more gardening, drive Hannah to the airport and on Friday I might go to Belfast.

Slither Again

 This is a summer activity.

Most evenings - especially damp ones with a light mizzle of rain - I step outside to see what the molluscs are up to. I must look like a crazy woman: torch in hand, stepping so carefully, peering into every corner.

It’s strange to realise that I’ve gone from being a person revolted by slugs and snails to someone who’s maybe just a little bit obsessed with them.

The obsession began a few summers ago and has only grown since.

Last year, I started marking some garden snails with dots of correction fluid. Then I felt bad about it - was I interfering, harming them somehow? But this year, I’ve found quite a few of my marked snails still going strong, and still inhabiting the same corners of the garden as before.

This one has decided tansy is not to its taste.

In the dark, I have to be so careful where I tread - there’s nothing more awful than accidentally crushing the shell of a garden snail. If that happens - and it rarely does, because I watch my step -the snail faces a prolonged and painful death. It’s kinder, then, to end things quickly and stamp out its life. Maybe I’m a little bit (a lot?) mad, because doing that to a snail makes me really sad. Even though they devoured all my cosmos seedlings and have done great harm to my Vancouver lupins*.

Young garden snail. At this stage, its shell is very delicate. My 'dangerous' size sixes are only for comparison. 

*I’ve had the Vancouver lupins (Lupinus polyphyllus ) ever since I visited Eamon in his home city in 2013. I collected the original seeds in the grounds of the University of British Columbia.

This is what my Vancouver lupins were like six years ago.

And this is what they are like now.

An Update

 Daoine a chanann in éineacht le hamhráin, scriosann siad iad do na cinn atá ag iarraidh éisteacht leo*

I started October determined to update this blog more frequently but, as always, life got in the way and 'aussi' a little bit of Duolingo. I did not progress to the Diamond League last week and am trying to be more relaxed about it.

And! I finished two books. Short ones.

I still need to discover if marking the shells of garden snails with Tippex is a bad thing. My friend the naturalist says it is not and my missing snails have likely been eaten by thrushes. Maybe the markings make it easier for thrushes to see them? I should probably stop it. 

**created with the assistance of Google Translate

Just One Book

Unthinkable! In September I finished reading just one book. The Secret Scripture by Sebastian Barry. I quite liked it even though the ending wasn't quite the surprise it might have been. I only research books once I've read them so it came as news to me that the novel was made a film. Researching the movie made me realise that I never wanted to see it even though it featured Vanessa Redgrave. Also, it was only loosely based on the book as the unsympathetic Father Gaunt became Hot Priest Theo James. I passed the book on to a friend and told her I didn't want it back.

What kept me from reading? Three things,

Gardening, Duolingo and Snails.

Bert and I have been working in our garden a lot and have made some progress. We make a good team. My back and shoulders aren't amazing so he does all the spadework. His knees are dodgy so I do all the wheel barrowing. Between us, we make one great gardener. For the first time in years, I am looking forward to spring.

Duolingo. Ganching warned me not to get obsessed. At first, I didn't know what she meant. Then, about two weeks in, I realised I was in leagues. I got obsessed. Sundays were fraught as I struggled to get into the top three or, at the very least, the promotion zone. A few days ago I realised I'd spent 24 hours in the previous week on Duolingo. That's like A JOB! I have wised up. 'll still do it a bit but I am going to have to stop caring about leagues and just try and do a bit of French grammar. For fun.

Snails. The Garden variety. I have spent almost my entire life loathing slugs and snails but have, in the past couple of years, become fascinated by them. Most nights I'm out with my torch to see what they are up to. It's the snails I like best but now I'm also getting to like the slugs too. And fellow gardeners, here is something I have discovered. Don't be too tidy in your herbaceous borders for the snails and slugs seem to prefer decaying plant matter. And if you don't leave anything like that for them they will eat the good stuff. It doesn't apply to hostas though - they just cannot resist them.

So - here's to October, more reading, gardening and snail-watching and a lot less Duolingo. 

Slither Night

This is what I have become...

Sometime between ten and eleven o'clock at night I'll be out with the dogs and the big torch, ostensibly to keep an eye on Cleo, to make sure she actually pees instead of crashing through the back door in search of a high-value treat. She hasn't that many accomplishments but being able to open every bloody door in the house is one of them.

But what I am actually keenest on doing is counting and observing garden snails. They are such fascinating creatures. The snails range in size from tiny translucent babies whose delicate shells might be broken by a breath to the big lads with shells as large as walnuts. I say lads, but snails are hermaphroditic. A couple of times I have spotted a pair of them closely entwined and suppose that they are having snail sex although I'm not sure how they do it. Philip Watson explained it all to me about thirty years ago but I was phobic about slugs and snails then and couldn't bear to listen to him. There was something about knives maybe? 

My slugs and snails phobia originated in that ghastly nursery rhyme, which I took literally. It was horrible thinking of dismembered puppy tails mixed up with slugs. My fear and dislike of slimy things was not helped by having Cousin Patrick pelt me with those huge black slugs found on the shores of Lough Neagh some sixty years ago.

Soft rainy nights are best for snail-watching and I know all their favourite spots. Near stone walls, tiled paths, Bert's hostas, the sunflowers, around the windows. I have to be very careful where I walk. I try not to tread on them. Most nights I count around eighty.  Tonight it was 14 slugs, 84 snails and two accidentally crunched.

This is what I have become.