Another Garden Update

The weather has been ungodly and I think (but am not certain) that I was bitten by a tick and that caused me to get unbelievably ill, starting about 10 days ago.  First, the weather: after being reasonable most of August, the past week has been unbearable.  It is hurricane weather off the Atlantic and we have to suffer for their sins.  It is hot, sweaty and when it isn't bucketing rain is is oppressively humid--hence the tick experience, I think.  The plants love it  and everything is growing like crazy, but I can't keep up with trimming, pruning and staking stems so everything in the garden is slumped over and a big sweaty mess--except where fat pants, the ground hog, has trundled over stems and snapped them in their search for tender shoots to eat.  In theory, it is supposed to cool down early next week but an old geezer's creeky knees would be a more reliable source of weather forecasting than weather.com is.  The other night we were told there was a 100% chance of torrential rains, hail, lightening and dangerous winds from 2 am until about 5 am--yet when we woke up the ground was dry.  Then midday, when it was expected to be cloudy and clear, we had pouring rains pretty much non-step.  Today, no rain forecast and midmorning the skies went black and the clouds let loose a flood. So planning outdoor work is a non-starter. Second, about two weeks ago, I was outside and felt something bite my stomach, just under my ribs.  I assumed it was either an ant (we have two sorts here: the cheerful big black ones and the angry tiny red ones--I blamed the red kind) or a spider. Later that evening, it itched and there was an obvious mouth bit hole right where the itching was the worst.  I'm not bothered by mosquito bites (I don't like them, but they don't cause me to have an allergic reaction) so it wasn't that.  Then, the next day, a sort of rash developed around the bit.  And for the next three days that circle rash got bigger and bigger, and the itching got worse and worse.  So I went online (always a risk) and looked up tick bites and it looked NOTHING like that: no "bullseye" pattern and no pain (all web sites were clear: tick bits HURT, they do not itch).  Well, mine itched like crazy.  After 7 days (with the bite/rash looking exactly the same and the itching unrelenting) I got the craziest set of neurological problems: dizziness, nausea, splitting headaches that wouldn't get better even with fistfuls of pain pills, bone aches that kept me up all night because I couldn't get comfortable, hot/flushed face but freezing cold body, feeligns of intense anxiety alternating with sadness....Yes, all the symptoms of tick bites.  So, on the second day of that I went to an urgent care place in Burton which is free for us because it is connected to Hurley Hospital and no one is ever there.  When I went, the only other person in the waiting room was just being called in.  The doctor I saw was ambivalent about it being a tick bite--maybe yes, maybe no.  But, like all urgent care doctors, he was quick to prescribe antibiotics and I started taking mine as soon as I had picked up the bottle from Walgreens. I felt a bit better each day until today, and now I feel like I am backsliding--another sign of tick bites.  The only good part of this is that the chances of it being a "deer tick" (the kind that carry Lyme disease) is very low.  I still have 5 more days of the antibiotics so I haven't given up on them working yet.  But this is getting extremely tedious.

These arrived a few days ago but I haven't had the energy to dig a bunch of holes (and actually am a bit afraid of ticks now) but here they are, the tiny compost tubs I mentioned in an earlier blog entry.  Here is one with a lid on:

And here is one without the lid:

As I said, the idea is that you sink the things up to the rim and fill them with alternating compost and dry stuff (leaves, stems, whatever) and let worms do the work for you.  I've never had a compost pile I didn't hate as the tree roots in our backyard grow into the piles through the bottom and take everything before we had a chance.  The compost would just turn into a giant maple tree root mass--though, admittedly, our trees are always robust.  So I am hoping that these are both tree and ground hog proof and easy enough to use that we will actually always put the compost into them every time we empty our kitchen tub.

I have no idea what this is other than it is some sort of squash thing:

We are still getting strawberries.  The only problem is that I can't reach most of them because the tomatoes have taken over the back corner of the yard.

And here is a small glimpse of our tomatoes, finally:

And here: 

After complaining that we have loads of green tomatoes but never any that ripen, Simon confessed that he has eaten every single tomato he has been able to get his greedy hands on.  His pathetic excuse was that he "thought you [me] didn't like tomatoes!"  Yeah, that's why I spent abouty $300 on heirloom seeds, seed trays, lights, water timers and soil and have been working on these since February.  SO annoying....

Garden Update

This photo is of about half all our tomato plants (with one mystery vine laying on top)--all lush green with thousands of little flowers and very few tomotoes. I am standing, holding my phone at eye level so these must be 8' tall. This is the back corner of our yard, where the garage meets up with the back wall.  We had our compost pile there for years and, obviously, the soil there is top notch.  Even though I put all the seedlings (which I started all by myself from overpriced envelopes of heirloom seeds) in raised beds, these out performed the other raised beds by 10-fold.  So the lesson to learn is that I need to put tiny compost tubs* into each sad raised bed (the tubs are wending their way from Amazon as I write this) and also put all compost we generate during the winter directly into those same beds.  And if I do that for 10 or so years, the entire back yard will be filled with 8' tomato plants with no tomatoes on them.

*The tiny compost tubs hold a gallon and are shaped like tiny green garbage cans--except that the entire bottom few inches has loads of holes for worms to access the compost. The best feature is a lid that snaps on tight to keep out ground hogs. About a month ago I tried to do this cheaply by using empty 1 gallon plastic flower pots that I have by the hundreds as they have drainage holes in the bottom. I also thought, being black, if I have them only halfway submerged, the sun will hot them up and the compost will break down faster.  But of course I didn't have any lids--no problem, I thought, that means the rain will get in and I won't have to mess around with popping lids and watering.  Well, a few hours later, during the night, our resident ground hog not only ate ALL the compost, he ripped the pots to pieces and tossed the bits all over the yard.  So he loved the compost but containers enraged him. I went online and of course there are a million options products. The ones I got were the least expensive for the quantity, had lids that really snapped on tight (or so it seemed on the little video I saw), and were much thicker plastic than the cheap pots you get with plants at nurseries. They were supposed to arrive this morning but are now scheduled to show up later this afternoon. 

Amateur YouTube gardeners are divided right now: some are ripping out tired, used up plants and happily putting out "fall seeds" to get beets, spinach and kale.  Others are heading indoors and letting the summer failures rot down to be dug into the soil next April.  I am torn, mainly because I really hate kale.

The Killing of Katie Steelstock by Michael Gilbert

 

I have to agree with the review on this Penguin cover that this novel is "something of a masterpiece."  I started it one late evening and was on page 100 before I could put it down.  The next night I was exhausted (thanks, Frederick) and planned to only read 10 or so pages and couldn't put it down until I had finished--and it was well after 2 am.  The book was published in 1980, which just goes to show that Gilbert had a prolific writing career that spanned decades and he really changed his novels to move with the times. I truly envy that sort of creative ability. This novel is a stand-alone story and we've not met any of the characters before--which means that any of them could be killed at any time and anyone can turn out not to be what they seem--from fusty deaf old maids to slow-witted stolid police officers.  

The nub of the novel is that Katie is from a very small town but has made it to the Big Time in London.  She started her career when just a teen by singing a one-hit-wonder pop tune that was all over the radio for a few weeks. (The strongest compliment any of the characters gave it was that once you heard it, you never forgot it.) That pop tune and her cover on the record sleeve gave her a split second of fame and just enough money to get a foot in a bigger door. That pop tune was followed by modeling--including "racy pics"--and then a small part on an extremely successful, long running TV show, a role that she used to outshine the established famous actors she was onscreen with--not the way to make friends but it is a way to influence people. She had just reached the point where her initial and disadvantageous contract was set to expire and she was shopping for a new manager, new TV show deals, and even talking about getting a chance on the Big Screen. Meanwhile, back home, (to which she returned to escape the madness of the London party scene), her widowed mother and four siblings live in a relatively big old home where Katie stays in a converted carriage house, now her apartment. And while everyone in town starts every sentence with "Our Katie..." what they don't say (until after she is dead) is that that she isn't loved and adored by those who know her best. The primary problem with Their Katie is that she is ambitious (obviously), intelligent (but pretends not to be if that helps her), has an extremely "sharp tongue," and often brages to anyone who will listen that she knows just how to use people: she graces them with her attentions just to leave them dangling. In particular, she likes to ask for favors but then, after someone has gone out of their way to accomodate those asks, she changes her mind and tells them she doesn't need them after all. Do they tell her to pound sand?  Never.  Why not?  Because she is the posterchild of this backwater village, very good looking, has sex appeal, and all males aged 16-60 want an upskirt pic (or whatever the equivalent of that in the late 70s was) of her.  Is it any wonder she ends up dead?    

If all that doesn't sound tawdry enough, police investigations expose all sorts of nasty goings on: a bullying business man who keep tight control over anyone he can but also sneaks off to a secret peep hole in a boathouse club closet he uses to secretly watch teens fondle each other in boats stored in the boathouse off season; a 30 something journalist who professes anarchism but spends all his free time trying to impress preteen boys who think his smart alec remarks about "The Man" are cool.... We also see the ubiquitous generation gap has bloomed into a generation chasm and middle aged fathers who come down like a ton of bricks on their 20-something daughters for staying out late with strange men are astonished when those daughters pack up and move out of their homes and into apartments with loser boyfriends. And NO one respects the police or trusts them to find the "real killer."  The novel ends with a nail biting courtroom battle managed by an old school judge who both knows the law and has no time for bullshit lawyers who are more interested in impressing future law firm partners than ensuring a fair trial. 

All this is to say: not a "cosy murder mystery" but still not as nasty as what tends to get published since the 1990s. (Murder victims aren't peeled so skins can be stitched into outfits for the killer....) But the discussions of law are excellent (Gilbert is still a lawyer first, after all) and the characters are very well developed.  

Mr. Calder & Mr. Behrens by Michael Gilbert

 

Both of these books are collections of short stories that originally appeared in literary magazines that published short stories of all sorts.  Gilbert said in an interview once that he was very sad that those magazines no longer existed: they provided unknown writers an audience and paycheck and established writers the place to put short stories that had no business being dragged out into full length novels that book publishers demand. He said that, once upon a time when he took the train to and from work every day, half his fellow riders there were reading literary magazines: the stories were the perfect length for a 30-45 minute commute and make people look forward to the ride. Old fogey lamenting the good old days or a wise elder who knew what he was on about?  You decide

The first collection, Games Without Rules, was first published in 1967 (that cover image above is from a new edition that just came out in 2024).  The second collection, Mr. Calder and Mr. Behrens, was published in 1982 and has not been reprinted. All the short stories feature Calder and Behrens who are retired spies ("in intelligence during The War") now living not far from each other in an extremely tiny village, not very far from London.  And because (unlike young spies these days) they know a lot of  European languages and have managed to outlive their enemies, they are still useful once in a while. So the stories take place from about the mid 50s until the early 80s. As with Gilbert's other stort stories, each story can be read alone but there is an arc--getting to know our two improbably heroes--that carries through each collection.  All the stories are very entertaining and each is a good read just before going to bed--the good triumphs and the bad always gets their just deserts, and who doesn't want to think about that before falling asleep?  But be warned, they can be (unlike, say, the Petralla police procedural short stories) rather nasty. These guys play for keeps, don't give warnings before using their weapons, and are not accountable to a supervisor for messy results. But they are very knowledgeable about how to bury a body.  And, as I've said before, they really would make great televsion.

Petrella at 'Q' by Michael Gilbert

 

Here is Patrick Patrella, the same police officer (now detective) as featured in Blood and Judgement.  This book is a collection of short stories (published in 1977) which come together nicely so the book has a good story arc--very much like James Herriot's All Creatures Great and Small in that each chapter introduces you to a new, very appealing character in an amusing (or perhaps not so amusing) situation and then they may (or may not) appear in a later story. But across each story we get introduced to a larger story that holds the short stories together. Petrella is now married and has one child, who is 4 years old, and his wife is pregnant with their second (in the earlier book he wasn't married yet and was living in a really crappy one room bachelor pad apartment that he rarely went home to).  He's also been promoted and so is responsible for both assigning tasks to his team mates and also training new hires.  The newbie we meet here that has the most to learn is an Eton graduate whose reactions to intense situations Petrella finds inexplicable--"unflappable" would be the polite way of describing him.  Also featured in these collections are various ethnic gangs, the most likable being the Irish ("Paddies") who focus on "moving goods" but take strong exception to those who "do nasty things" (the nature of which left to our imagination)--those people come from Poland, it would seem.  

These stories would make an excellent TV series--each story would fill out a great 2 hour episode and the book would build a wonderful season.  And the finale is a real nail biter.  I won't give away details but we are left wondering if Petrella's resignation letter (not his first--he resigns often) might actually stick this time as even the most dedicated cop gets to a point that enough is enough.

Two Mystery Vines

 I had been speaking of the mystery vine as a single entity, the parent of this:

But today, on the tendril that is growing up our back fence, I see this--clearly a different type of plant entirely:

This second one looks like a watermelon but is not as the leaves are completely different--it is some sort of squash, but I have no idea what kind. I also saw about a dozen more smaller versions growing near this one. As to the one above, I no longer think it is an acorn squash as it is almost the same size as a fully grown acorn squash and has no color.  So now I think it's a white pumpkin--one of those decorative things that get sold here around Halloween.  The weird thing is that I have no memory of ever buying one because they have become outrageously expensive in the past 18 months.  If only squashes could talk....

Ah ha! The Mystery Vine is Slightly Less Mysterious

I found this this morning--it's about 3" tall and suspended about 4' off the ground on the vine hogging up the tomato trellises. It is definitely not a zuchini, so rule that off the list.  I'm guessing that it is an acorn squash.  And that's not impossible because I actually do like acorn squash and buy them every Fall and actually remember to cook them before they rot in the back of the fridge.  I can see about 50 odd blossoms on the vine and a few dozen TINY buds of future squashes.  Unless the ground hog develops a hunger for squash vine (so far, it hasn't touched it), we are going to be eating a LOT of acorn squash.  Unless, that is, it actually does turn into a pumpkin which will mean a LOT of pumpkin pie, bread (like zuchini bread and banana bread) and pumpkin cookies...I wonder if it's possible to make bread with acorn squash?  Because that can be frozen...Anyway, I am getting ahead of myself.  This is a long way from being a squash of any sort.

As to the ground hog, I haven't seen it in a while and (dare I write this) there hasn't been any more damage done to either the tomato or sweet potato plants.  Maybe tossing about several pounds of garlic cloves and skins actually worked?  Either than or it's found another garden with tastier goods.

Blood and Judgement by Michael Gilbert

 

Now THIS is what I'm talking about: no spooky murderous rooms, just basic police procedural.  This was published in 1951 and it is thoroughly modern murder mystery.  (And by that I mean what I consider a modern murder mystery according to my own, private standards that I am not going to share with anyone.)  The main character is Patrick Petrella.  He's a detective sergeant in London's Metropolitan Police.  He's the first character Gilbert has presented that is firmly on the police side of matters, not the legal/court side.  I think Gilbert must have enjoyed that, as the lawyers and judges he presents are utterly foreign to Petrella--requiring SO MUCH evidence before they'll accept a claim as true or an object (say a gun) as what is is purported to be.  Yes, that really is the way lawyers think--almost as demanding as philosophers are.  Police, it seems, are happy to rely on gaping inferences--suspicious glances, unusual coincidences, gaps in employement history--to support their conclusions. Yet, despite being a "cop", Petrella is likable.  What saves him, perhaps, is that he's a bit of a police outsider and disobeys his supervisors.  But he does get pissed off when people express to him how much they hate cops--so that part is completly believable.

The story begins with a bunch of young kids (9-12, say) finding a dead body under some leaves and branches, under overgrown bushes, at a river reservoir sort of area.  I'm not clear on what this place is: it's right in the middle of London and is not a nature reserve, but is totally undeveloped, nobody does anything there (except murder people and find murdered people), and it is the source of drinking water....Too outside my realm of experience to make sense to me, I'm afraid.  Regardless, there's the body and it needs attending to. Pretty quickly it's obvious that she was murdered and this was a very slap-dash attempt to hide the body--almost as if the murderer wanted the body to be found...Hmm. Then the city council guys that work there realize that one of their own, a guy names Ricketts, isn't at work as he should be--and he isn't in the little on-site cabin he gets to live in as part of his job.  In seems he's cleared off--pretty much exactly the same moment this woman was killed.  Well, that's weird.  Did he see too much and was killed too or is this just one of those really weird coincidences?  But cops don't believe in "coincidences"...

Then it turns out that the woman was the wife of a mobster who escaped during a prisoner transport THE NIGHT BEFORE SHE WAS SHOT!!! Ok, so did the guy escape, meet up with her, shoot her (why?) and then, seeing Ricketts poking around, shoot him, too?  Then why is HER body under a bush for anyone nosy kid to find but Ricketts' corpse has disappeared into thin air?  Wait, there's more!  It turns out that she was 3 months pregnant at the time she was murdered--and her husband had been in prison for almost a year before he escaped!  Is that why he killed her?

Wait there is more!  The cops find the murder weapon on the silty bottom of the reservoir and it has a smeared fingerprint on it--it's an old German military gun that WWI guys collected--not really a mobster weapon at all...Wait there's more!  It turns out that Ricketts was a WWI hero and won a medal!  But he did he?  Because everything we learn about this guy is that he's no hero...Wait!  Another corpse is found--this one pulled from the water!  Is it Ricketts?  Nope--but not for the reason you think...

Ok, we have too many mobsters, ex-soldiers who have records with the military police, mobster molls who are getting ripped off by pawn brokers...lots of murder suspects, lots of bodies, missing military records, missing city council employees, missing girlfriends, missing jewelry from mobster organized robberies and into all this is a plenty of courtroom drama that allows lawyers to criticize bumbling cops and cops (outside the courts, away from judicial ears) to criticize overly fastidious judges and defense lawyers.

An excellent read and wraps up nicely.  As ususal for Gilbert, lots of twists and turns and good humor to carry the story along. And extra nice is that this is the first novel to feature Petrella, but Gilbert must have been pleased with his creation as Petrella features in another eight novels and quite a few of the short stories that Gilbert got published in literary magazines.