Do I reward success?
Standing alone in the middle of the field, holding a long stick and a measuring tape, I realized the important detail: it’s not very warm, yet. The bright sunshine did nothing to mask a chill from the breeze. As our household anticipates the last snow of the season, garden layout is now important. Mustn’t miss even one of those “growing days” that the seed catalogue provides as a parameter. And before those seeds start to grow, there are a few more details that need resolution.
Where can I buy a quantity of decent topsoil? By my calculation, about fifteen cubic feet. More than I can “borrow” from neighbouring fields. Perhaps a bit less, given the need to add compost and Vermiculite, but still enough to make me wonder if advancing age is coupled to a lack of common sense. Just how many salads do I intend to eat next fall?
We’ll work that out. Today, the other adventure involved one intrepid squirrel and our seed dispenser. He (she?) has been observant, and we’ve watched the learning curve. Up the pole and jump across. Fail. Up the pole and dangle by two feet. Fail. Up to the top and jump, with a quick grasp. Close. Today, the game advanced. I now have video footage of the second successful removal of the feeder cover. Unscrewed, in passing. I’m impressed. If it wouldn’t cause an outright interspecies war on the lawn, I’d reward the creature (and the now three close friends) with their own sack of sunflower seeds, but that would mean making the family subject to a force beyond our ken. Right now, we’ve duct-taped the lid in place. Inconvenient for recharge, but a great way to delay the inevitable.
