That I have been sorely neglecting my allotment as of late, I have still been going down there, but not as often as I should, and the plants are still growing happily without my attention, including the weeds, despite the frosts we have had!
One of the reasons for my neglect has been my Father in Law, three weeks ago he was admitted back in to hospital, suffering from dehydration and (dare I say it?) starvation, despite the fact he has FOUR carers visit him a day!
I know they can’t force him to eat or drink if he doesn’t want to, but they don’t even try! They just walk in, asks him if he wants anything, and when he says no, they go away again! Surely it is common sense to put the food in front of him, and possibly help him eat it (as he has had two strokes, feeding himself is difficult).
Even in the hospital he is lucky if a nurse has time to feed him, there are so many other patients who are more vocal in their needs, and so few nurses to go around. I just hope, if I am ever in that situation, I will still have the power of my voice, and still have the desire to use it.
The drawing in of the days is also causing a problem, as I didn’t even think to re-arrange my daily schedule to take the shortage of daylight hours in to consideration, so often by the time I have my chores done, it is already getting dark, and so the allotment has to have a miss. What doesn’t help is the fact I am very definitely not a morning person, and much prefer to have a few hours pottering around the house before venturing out in to the wet autumn weather. But all that has to change! There are things that need to be done, and nobody is going to do them if I don’t get around to them!
So a new leaf has to be turned in my attitude to winter living, and the only person who can do that, is me!
Showing posts with label allotment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label allotment. Show all posts
Saturday, 8 November 2008
Wednesday, 5 November 2008
When life gets on top of you.
I like to think I am not the only person in this world who sometimes feels as if they can’t cope with everything happening in their life, and that is where I am at the moment.
My poor Father in Law has been in hospital for the last four weeks, and I have wanted desperately to visit him a lot more often than I have, but there is just so much to do at the moment.
On Monday the hospital phoned to say he would be coming home on Thursday, so I arranged my week around that, and the need to go to his house to warm it up for him, and do his shopping etc. Yesterday they phoned to say he wouldn’t be home until next Tuesday! So what’s happened? Well I again have to postpone the things I had planned to do while doing Father in Laws shopping, (the area he lives in has some handy shops, and my bank is there too!)
The allotment, I had hoped, would have scaled down a bit by now, seeing as we have had our first frosts of the year, but I still have peas, carrots, kale, cabbages, onions, garlic, leeks and potatoes going strong! And that’s not including what is growing in the greenhouse and shed! (Mushrooms in the shed, melons, aubergines, coriander, basil, and lettuce and cat grass in the greenhouse!). On top of all that, we are still less than half way to getting the beds made for next years planting, and we still have to choose and order the seeds….and I’m not even going to mention the building plans we have! The wildlife area still needs a lot of work, and the ponds need regular clearing of dead leaves, and a new leaf compost has just been built and needs to be filled, and there sure isn’t a shortage of leaves to do it with, it is just so time consuming crawling around the beds gathering the things!
Winter is coming and I am desperately trying to make myself some nice comfy clothing, from socks to jumpers and everything in between, but the shop I buy my yarn from is where my Father in Law lives, (see above), besides I’m finding it hard to find the time to make them.
Christmas is also coming, (faster than ever this year!) and I usually make a lot of my own cards and presents. This year I am so behind on all of that, because I have spent my time learning and doing the allotment, and learning how to make butter, cheese and jam, none of which I am good enough at yet to present as presents!
Then there are my health problems, which have over the last four or five weeks raised their ugly heads again. Five weeks ago I had a giddy spell down the allotment and walked into a piece of angle iron which my husband was using as a boundary marker. It cut and bruised my leg quite badly, and the last of the scab is only just coming off now. Then four days ago I had another giddy spell, which made me slip and fall on my butt with a bit of a thump, so you can just guess where the bruise is, but I also hurt my right shoulder and wrist and left elbow, effectively putting both arms on restricted movement.
Three weeks ago my doctor said he suspected my thyroid meds weren’t at the right level again and asked me to have my bloods checked, but I have difficulty getting to the hospital on my own, so have to wait for a time when hubby fit it around his work, and I’m still waiting, so I’m still struggling with being just that little bit slower, both mentally and physically.
They say time is money, and it’s true. This Christmas is going to cost a bit more this year, just because I don’t have the time to do everything I normally do!
My poor Father in Law has been in hospital for the last four weeks, and I have wanted desperately to visit him a lot more often than I have, but there is just so much to do at the moment.
On Monday the hospital phoned to say he would be coming home on Thursday, so I arranged my week around that, and the need to go to his house to warm it up for him, and do his shopping etc. Yesterday they phoned to say he wouldn’t be home until next Tuesday! So what’s happened? Well I again have to postpone the things I had planned to do while doing Father in Laws shopping, (the area he lives in has some handy shops, and my bank is there too!)
The allotment, I had hoped, would have scaled down a bit by now, seeing as we have had our first frosts of the year, but I still have peas, carrots, kale, cabbages, onions, garlic, leeks and potatoes going strong! And that’s not including what is growing in the greenhouse and shed! (Mushrooms in the shed, melons, aubergines, coriander, basil, and lettuce and cat grass in the greenhouse!). On top of all that, we are still less than half way to getting the beds made for next years planting, and we still have to choose and order the seeds….and I’m not even going to mention the building plans we have! The wildlife area still needs a lot of work, and the ponds need regular clearing of dead leaves, and a new leaf compost has just been built and needs to be filled, and there sure isn’t a shortage of leaves to do it with, it is just so time consuming crawling around the beds gathering the things!
Winter is coming and I am desperately trying to make myself some nice comfy clothing, from socks to jumpers and everything in between, but the shop I buy my yarn from is where my Father in Law lives, (see above), besides I’m finding it hard to find the time to make them.
Christmas is also coming, (faster than ever this year!) and I usually make a lot of my own cards and presents. This year I am so behind on all of that, because I have spent my time learning and doing the allotment, and learning how to make butter, cheese and jam, none of which I am good enough at yet to present as presents!
Then there are my health problems, which have over the last four or five weeks raised their ugly heads again. Five weeks ago I had a giddy spell down the allotment and walked into a piece of angle iron which my husband was using as a boundary marker. It cut and bruised my leg quite badly, and the last of the scab is only just coming off now. Then four days ago I had another giddy spell, which made me slip and fall on my butt with a bit of a thump, so you can just guess where the bruise is, but I also hurt my right shoulder and wrist and left elbow, effectively putting both arms on restricted movement.
Three weeks ago my doctor said he suspected my thyroid meds weren’t at the right level again and asked me to have my bloods checked, but I have difficulty getting to the hospital on my own, so have to wait for a time when hubby fit it around his work, and I’m still waiting, so I’m still struggling with being just that little bit slower, both mentally and physically.
They say time is money, and it’s true. This Christmas is going to cost a bit more this year, just because I don’t have the time to do everything I normally do!
Wednesday, 22 October 2008
A very sad day for me
Or The life of one urban fox
We got our allotment in the middle of April this year; it was a mass of bramble bushes over seven foot high, so the first two weeks were spent cutting and hacking to clear not even half of the ground in our spare time.
A couple of times while we were working through the early spring evenings we disturbed a fox who had taken up residence in the jungle of thorns that was to become our garden, but we thought as the environment it had chosen dwindled it would move on, what we didn’t realise was that it was a vixen and she was about to have, or had just had a litter, there was little chance of her moving on at that time.
Soon enough I was planting beds of produce and then the war began. The fox would nightly dig up areas I had planted that day, destroying young plants I had started at home on the window sill, or worse, digging up beds I had planted with seeds, the plants of which I had never seen the leaves of, so when something sprouted, because it was no longer in a straight line, I had no idea if it was weed or seed that was growing.
I tried everything to discourage the fox, from garlic powder to cayenne pepper, to the husband’s urine. I balked at anything violent though, as I respected the animal’s right to life, despite what it was doing to my garden. I did lots of research in to the habits of foxes, to see if I could find a way to get it to move on that way, and then I made a discovery. Aside from the fox there were other creatures out there eating my crops as soon as I could plant them, slugs, pigeons and mice to name but a few, but these three were a major problem, and guess what animal finds all three a bit of a delicacy, yes my fox, so a sort of truce was called. Beds I had freshly planted were netted with strong tent pegs all round until plants became established, and bird seed was set out for the pigeons. Often I would arrive at the plot to see signs of a fox kill of a pigeon, and I felt I had, to a small degree, returned the natural balance of things.
Then one evening I was working late on my own, and the bushes in the over grown plot next door started rattling, and suddenly I could hear the excited little yaps of small foxes at play. I looked up to see my fox sitting watching me near the bushes, but she was also watching the pups, which were out of my sight, and I suddenly felt as if we had finally reached an understanding. From there on in, every evening I was allowed to be present at the cubs play time, though I seldom got more than a glimpse of their tiny bodies, but that was more than enough for me. Mum looked exhausted and thin, so I started taking up my cats left over dinners (the bits my cat didn’t eat the day before) and leaving it out for her in the hope it would offer her some respite. Hey don’t criticize me, I brought up two children on my own, I know how tiring it can be, and how little time you have left to look after yourself, and this fox had three babies to protect and feed, not two!
About four weeks later I arrived on the plot, cat food in hand, to discover the decapitated head of one of the pups in the middle of my potato bed. A male fox had attacked the litter so the mother would mate with him. Apparently this is a common occurrence, and happens a lot in nature, but understanding this didn’t help my emotional reaction to it, nor did it stop my grieving on behalf of the mother, who was gone, where I don’t know. My evenings at the plot were now silent apart from the sound of distant traffic and bird song, and felt exceptionally silent to me.
Roughly a week later I was working on a bed during the day this time, when I heard a noise behind me, when I turned there was a small fox crawling on its belly towards me, it had a nasty gash on its left shoulder, its fur was matted and dirty with blood and mud, and it was as thin as a rake. When I stood up it tried to back away, but it just didn’t have the strength to move far, and I knew I had to do something, but at the same time, I knew I didn’t want the fox, if it survived, to become too friendly with humans, we are not a nice species as a whole in inner cities. So I rushed round the allotment hunting out all the slugs I could find, (the only thing I knew it could eat that I was capable of catching for it.) I had stopped taking my cats left over food down when the rest of the litter died, how I wished at that moment that I hadn’t done that! I threw the slugs towards the pup, never going too near myself, and the pup ate them up as fast as I could find them. Then I got a plant pot dish from the greenhouse and filled it with water and put that down close by. Satisfied that I had done all that I could do for the day, I left the fox to live or die, for the night.
The next day I returned, half expecting to find a body, but still carrying the cat food, just in case, and don’t tell my husband, but I may have taken down a little extra that had never gotten to see the cats bowl first. To my relief there was no body to be found, so I left the food in the same place where I used to leave it for the mother, and after doing a quick check around the allotment, I left to let the cub eat.
After that we sort of fell in to a routine, I’d leave the cat food, and the next day it would be gone. I had no idea if it was the cub that was eating it, or if it was another creature of the night, but I carried on leaving my little offerings, just in case. I’d like to add at this point, just in case my husband reads this, that I haven’t added any extra food since that first day! (It is always good to hedge your bets!)
Then three weeks ago I was down the allotment late, dusk was well and truly falling, and the light was almost gone, and suddenly my fox cub appeared, all grown up! She had a nasty scar on her left shoulder, and the unmistakeable white mask, legs and tail tip. She knew I was there, and walked within ten feet of me, sat down and watched me for a few minutes. I, of course, was grinning like the proverbial Cheshire Cat, even though I didn’t move any other muscles. Then a male fox appeared and she stood up and they walked round to where I’d left the cat food, ate together and then departed. My heart was singing for days at that sight, I can tell you!
Today I walked down to the allotment, and at the entrance to the car park that I have to walk through to get to the plots, was the body of my fox. She had been hit by a car, going at speed by the looks of it, as she had been almost torn in half. I could still see the scar on her shoulder, despite her injuries, so I knew it was her.
Once again, my heart bleeds.
We got our allotment in the middle of April this year; it was a mass of bramble bushes over seven foot high, so the first two weeks were spent cutting and hacking to clear not even half of the ground in our spare time.
A couple of times while we were working through the early spring evenings we disturbed a fox who had taken up residence in the jungle of thorns that was to become our garden, but we thought as the environment it had chosen dwindled it would move on, what we didn’t realise was that it was a vixen and she was about to have, or had just had a litter, there was little chance of her moving on at that time.
Soon enough I was planting beds of produce and then the war began. The fox would nightly dig up areas I had planted that day, destroying young plants I had started at home on the window sill, or worse, digging up beds I had planted with seeds, the plants of which I had never seen the leaves of, so when something sprouted, because it was no longer in a straight line, I had no idea if it was weed or seed that was growing.
I tried everything to discourage the fox, from garlic powder to cayenne pepper, to the husband’s urine. I balked at anything violent though, as I respected the animal’s right to life, despite what it was doing to my garden. I did lots of research in to the habits of foxes, to see if I could find a way to get it to move on that way, and then I made a discovery. Aside from the fox there were other creatures out there eating my crops as soon as I could plant them, slugs, pigeons and mice to name but a few, but these three were a major problem, and guess what animal finds all three a bit of a delicacy, yes my fox, so a sort of truce was called. Beds I had freshly planted were netted with strong tent pegs all round until plants became established, and bird seed was set out for the pigeons. Often I would arrive at the plot to see signs of a fox kill of a pigeon, and I felt I had, to a small degree, returned the natural balance of things.
Then one evening I was working late on my own, and the bushes in the over grown plot next door started rattling, and suddenly I could hear the excited little yaps of small foxes at play. I looked up to see my fox sitting watching me near the bushes, but she was also watching the pups, which were out of my sight, and I suddenly felt as if we had finally reached an understanding. From there on in, every evening I was allowed to be present at the cubs play time, though I seldom got more than a glimpse of their tiny bodies, but that was more than enough for me. Mum looked exhausted and thin, so I started taking up my cats left over dinners (the bits my cat didn’t eat the day before) and leaving it out for her in the hope it would offer her some respite. Hey don’t criticize me, I brought up two children on my own, I know how tiring it can be, and how little time you have left to look after yourself, and this fox had three babies to protect and feed, not two!
About four weeks later I arrived on the plot, cat food in hand, to discover the decapitated head of one of the pups in the middle of my potato bed. A male fox had attacked the litter so the mother would mate with him. Apparently this is a common occurrence, and happens a lot in nature, but understanding this didn’t help my emotional reaction to it, nor did it stop my grieving on behalf of the mother, who was gone, where I don’t know. My evenings at the plot were now silent apart from the sound of distant traffic and bird song, and felt exceptionally silent to me.
Roughly a week later I was working on a bed during the day this time, when I heard a noise behind me, when I turned there was a small fox crawling on its belly towards me, it had a nasty gash on its left shoulder, its fur was matted and dirty with blood and mud, and it was as thin as a rake. When I stood up it tried to back away, but it just didn’t have the strength to move far, and I knew I had to do something, but at the same time, I knew I didn’t want the fox, if it survived, to become too friendly with humans, we are not a nice species as a whole in inner cities. So I rushed round the allotment hunting out all the slugs I could find, (the only thing I knew it could eat that I was capable of catching for it.) I had stopped taking my cats left over food down when the rest of the litter died, how I wished at that moment that I hadn’t done that! I threw the slugs towards the pup, never going too near myself, and the pup ate them up as fast as I could find them. Then I got a plant pot dish from the greenhouse and filled it with water and put that down close by. Satisfied that I had done all that I could do for the day, I left the fox to live or die, for the night.
The next day I returned, half expecting to find a body, but still carrying the cat food, just in case, and don’t tell my husband, but I may have taken down a little extra that had never gotten to see the cats bowl first. To my relief there was no body to be found, so I left the food in the same place where I used to leave it for the mother, and after doing a quick check around the allotment, I left to let the cub eat.
After that we sort of fell in to a routine, I’d leave the cat food, and the next day it would be gone. I had no idea if it was the cub that was eating it, or if it was another creature of the night, but I carried on leaving my little offerings, just in case. I’d like to add at this point, just in case my husband reads this, that I haven’t added any extra food since that first day! (It is always good to hedge your bets!)
Then three weeks ago I was down the allotment late, dusk was well and truly falling, and the light was almost gone, and suddenly my fox cub appeared, all grown up! She had a nasty scar on her left shoulder, and the unmistakeable white mask, legs and tail tip. She knew I was there, and walked within ten feet of me, sat down and watched me for a few minutes. I, of course, was grinning like the proverbial Cheshire Cat, even though I didn’t move any other muscles. Then a male fox appeared and she stood up and they walked round to where I’d left the cat food, ate together and then departed. My heart was singing for days at that sight, I can tell you!
Today I walked down to the allotment, and at the entrance to the car park that I have to walk through to get to the plots, was the body of my fox. She had been hit by a car, going at speed by the looks of it, as she had been almost torn in half. I could still see the scar on her shoulder, despite her injuries, so I knew it was her.
Once again, my heart bleeds.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
