TV and Video

“Exploding Goldfish!”

I will go ahead and get the “nasty bit” out of the way right off the bat. Actually there may be a couple more in this post, depending on your disposition.

This first “eww” came to my attention some months back when one of my now extremely “in-bred” goldfish in my stock tank started to “put on weight”. I remember thinking that this was rather odd as it was not the right time of the year for them to be having babies. Then the rapid weight gain became more concentrated on one side of it’s body…I knew something had to be wrong with it.

I saw it again recently and well…

…I knew it wasn’t long for this world. A week or two later I was clearing out some water lilies that had enveloped the entire pond as they do this time of year, and I happened to have a flash thought about the little bloated fish, how he was doing, if he had somehow managed to deflate himself.

As if on cue, lurking under the lily pad that I was currently pulling on, out rolled Mr Creosote with impeccable timing in, I swear, slow motion right over the back of my hand, very inconsiderate.

At this point I made my customary freaked out noise, which is somewhat a cross between the strained sound you make in a dream when you cannot seem to escape whatever it is chasing you, and strangely a giggling five year-old girl.

This particular incident also included a notable cross-legging side-stepping swagger away from the direction of the tank and the offending fish.

After my heart rate slowed, I decided that Mr Creosote should receive a decent burial.

I walked to the shed for my shovel, and caught myself thinking about where in the Patch the soil quality required some improvement…his final resting place to be, or so I thought.

I quickly dug him a shallow grave and went about my business albeit a little more cautiously in and around the pond.

The following day we were all hanging out on our back porch when the air got thick with the most ungodly smell (oh yes), it was the sort of smell that had us all instantly looking at each other, wide eyed, in a sort of desperate – you have to figure out where this is coming from and take care of it immediately sensibility.

We did not have to look far…

He had resurrected Mr Creosote and must have been rolling around on him, lodging him up into his collar.

Bad, stinky Kumo! 

Kumo, among many other creatures and birds, has also been tucking into the now very ripe / rotting loquats. I keep finding the seeds that he has carefully nibbled and discarded in neat piles everywhere. And here was me thinking they were a Naboo god-offering.

Jeff, your eyes are bigger then your belly!

“Yes, yes…they are ESP! I just can’t stop myself”

“Shomeone…shave him from himshelf.”

Lots happening this week in the ESPatch.

I have witnessed fights in the feather grasses, even

feathers in the feather grasses.

My mature sotol is growing a spear…

“Ach, is that what yer callin’ it ESP, look at it mun, its no even twice the length of a mun!”

Enough William.

Must not look at the sticker…must not look at the sticker…you are looking at the sticker aren’t you?

The Battle continues:

“On this day the 25th of April, 2012, I report that the battle between the dwarf papyrus and the horsetail reed is holding fast. The pairing appears to be at a stalemate, at least for the time being. I fear for our safety with the ever increasing threat from the Persian ivy front, it is now constantly threatening our borders and appears to be deeply dug in, no doubt lying in wait to flank the opposing artemesia.”

This area is going to be redesigned as a Patch Tikki bar in the not too distant future and this stock tank may very well have to be moved, an event that I am not by any means looking forward to. More on this potential Darwin award later.

Moving on, and away from the Patch to a client’s house for a moment.

I was in the process of taking out a dead tree (as you do), when I saw a rather “unnatural” stick clinging onto the side of a limestone boulder.

This is

Megaphasma dentricus

 

or as it is more commonly known, the walking stick, it is one of the largest insects in our area. Female giant walking sticks can be as long as 6 inches and this one was all of that. Walking sticks spend their lives up in oak trees eating leaves and are generally only seen on the ground if they have fallen out of one.

It is the longest insect in the United States and, taking the above shot, my hand was positioned directly below it.

If it had dropped, I would have required some serious counseling for a very long time. 

Slow-moving and defenseless creatures, they rely on their incredible camouflage to avoid predators.

Brrr. 

I coaxed her onto another (real stick) and placed the creature into the safety of some nearby shrubs.

Some other notable insects in the Patch of late:

An eight spotted forester moth in a variegated pittosporum,

and this rather Wile E. Coyote looking villain skulking on the stem of this sunflower.  This is a Lucerne moth.

Nomophila nearctica

 

Lots and lots of these Bilobed Loopers, they have been very common across Texas this Spring but really hard to photograph…they hardly ever keep still.

Red Admirals also are showing up in large numbers.

Vanessa atalanta

 

And to wrap things up on the insect front: a Little Yellow (Pyrisitia lisa) on milkweed.

Larkspur has put on a mighty fine display this year,

along with the white-water rapids of artemesia,

here it is flowing past a couple of copper canyon daisies to heat up the scene and some Mexican feather grass for movement.

The blowing of the datura trumpet signaled that it was once again time for our annual school Daddy – Daughter dance

 I had fun miss p. and I promise I will try the limbo dancing next year.

pinocchio urban art by OakOak

Stay Tuned for:

 

“They’re under Starters Orders…”


 

All material © 2012 for eastsidepatch. Unauthorized
intergalactic reproduction strictly prohibited, and
punishable by late (and extremely unpleasant)
14th century planet Earth techniques.

 

Coming soon to a theater near you:

 

“Grilled”

It has been an eventful week in the Patch. 

 

 

 

 

 

The gleaming surfaces,

the clean shining grates, I love getting a new grill can you tell?

My old Weber was, to say the least, looking very much under the weather, its visual hygiene compromised by the confounded laxative popping doves that seem to follow the grill around up in my pecan trees. I am convinced the accidents are not accidents at this point but a stupid bird conspiracy. As the summer is drawing to an end (tell me it is) I am looking forward to some much more humane grilling weather. I also fear for our sanity if the temperatures do not start to taper-off soon…


I found this rather peculiar sign taped to my daughters room the other day,

 naturally curiosity got the better of me and I immediately had to “dstrib” her.

This is what shuffled past me as I entered the room, very “dstribing” indeed. The heat is certainly getting to us all at this point.


The long hot summer has been good for some things:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She practically grew gills this year,

whilst he weathered the heat, brushed up on his short game and tried to ignore the rather large dinosaur looming behind him. 

Talking of gills and golf…

…I shot this writhing mass of feelers on a golf course this past week…Brrr.

From cat whiskers to horsetails:

This plant is dependable no matter the conditions, (well it is housed in a large container underwater).  Unlike a lot of aquatic plants that outgrow their pots, get root bound and go into a steady decline in their maturity, this reed does not seem to care about its confinement at all.

I have grown it in the same container for years now and it always puts on a dependable great fall show.

Cattails are also great as tinder to ignite say a brand new Weber grill, did I already mention how I love getting a new grill?

Moving on…

One plant that has completely impressed me is this baby 

Leucophyllum candidum

 

Thunder Cloud ™ (it is trademarked by Texas A&M University). Its naturally compact growth form, silver- white foliage color, and very dark purple flowers all combine to make this a great small, drought tolerant shrub. It gets to about three feet high and three or four feet wide.  I planted this little one in the middle of our continuing 70 days of consecutive triple digit temperatures in a place that has killed many a healthy plant, and then I neglected it.

I was a very surprised when I put on my sun / UV reflective attire the other day to safely venture down my garden to see it not only alive but positively thriving…

…and covered in these deep purple blooms. 

Make sure this one is planted in soil that has most excellent drainage.

I did bump into Ernie (my neighbor) on my dangerous venture to the back of the Patch, I think he may have spent just a little too long watering his vegetables.

As you can probably tell I am desperately trying to avoid publishing…

more pictures like this. It appears the heat is now randomly selecting loquats to fry up in the garden wok, garnished with some of my society garlic.  This is one of my neighbors but my death toll is also rising, I have lost two well established trees so far.

A slight forgetfulness on my part with the garden hose gave Kumo “the opportunist” the chance to a) cool off in a wallowing-pig like fashion and b) dig out what was left of my Salvia leucantha whilst yanking out some dead gaura with his teeth as a sort of cooling-off hobby, well it saved me the bother.

Picture courtesy of my eldest halfling.

 

Considering that my garden looks like it is hovering in that parched veil between life and Ernie, I though I would leave you with this rather melancholic but very fitting poem for all central Texas gardeners right now. 

Relax, I am not re-running the “Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner”…at least not yet. 

This is a rather long poem but stick with it…

…there will be a multiple choice test on it next week. The winner stands to win Ernie’s ashes glamorously displayed in a nice contemporary vase, it was what he would have wanted.


The Garden of Proserpine

 

by Algernon Charles Swinburne 1837–1909

Here, where the world is quiet;
Here, where all trouble seems
Dead winds’ and spent waves’ riot
In doubtful dreams of dreams;
I watch the green field growing
For reaping folk and sowing
For harvest-time and mowing,
A sleepy world of streams.

I am tired of tears and laughter,
And men that laugh and weep;
Of what may come hereafter
For men that sow to reap:
I am weary of days and hours,
Blown buds of barren flowers,
Desires and dreams and powers
And everything but sleep.

Here life has death for neighbor,
And far from eye or ear
Wan waves and wet winds labor,
Weak ships and spirits steer;
They drive adrift, and whither
They wot not who make thither;
But no such winds blow hither,
And no such things grow here.

No growth of moor or coppice,
No heather-flower or vine,
But bloomless buds of poppies,
Green grapes of Proserpine,
Pale beds of blowing rushes,
Where no leaf blooms or blushes
Save this whereout she crushes
For dead men deadly wine.

Pale, without name or number,
In fruitless fields of corn,
They bow themselves and slumber
All night till light is born;
And like a soul belated,
In hell and heaven unmated,
By cloud and mist abated
Comes out of darkness morn.

Though one were strong as seven,
He too with death shall dwell,
Nor wake with wings in heaven,
Nor weep for pains in hell;
Though one were fair as roses,
His beauty clouds and closes;
And well though love reposes,
In the end it is not well.

Pale, beyond porch and portal,
Crowned with calm leaves she stands
Who gathers all things mortal
With cold immortal hands;
Her languid lips are sweeter
Than love’s who fears to greet her,
To men that mix and meet her
From many times and lands.

She waits for each and other,
She waits for all men born;
Forgets the earth her mother,
The life of fruits and corn;
And spring and seed and swallow
Take wing for her and follow
Where summer song rings hollow
And flowers are put to scorn.

There go the loves that wither,
The old loves with wearier wings;
And all dead years draw thither,
And all disastrous things;
Dead dreams of days forsaken,
Blind buds that snows have shaken,
Wild leaves that winds have taken,
Red strays of ruined springs.

We are not sure of sorrow;
And joy was never sure;
To-day will die to-morrow;
Time stoops to no man’s lure;
And love, grown faint and fretful,
With lips but half regretful
Sighs, and with eyes forgetful
Weeps that no loves endure.

From too much love of living,
From hope and fear set free,
We thank with brief thanksgiving
Whatever gods may be
That no life lives for ever;
That dead men rise up never;
That even the weariest river
Winds somewhere safe to sea.

Then star nor sun shall waken,
Nor any change of light:
Nor sound of waters shaken,
Nor any sound or sight:
Nor wintry leaves nor vernal,
Nor days nor things diurnal;
Only the sleep eternal
In an eternal night.

In the classical myth Proserpine was kidnapped by Pluto, the god of the underworld, to be his wife. She begged to be returned to earth, but because she had eaten some pomegranate seeds Pluto confined her to his kingdom for half of each year.  Her reemergence each year ushered in the forces of spring and the growth of vegetation, causing Proserpine and the pomegranate to forever be linked to the emergence of spring.

Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Here is a depiction of her consuming a pomegranate which symbolizes captivity.

On Proserpine, Rossetti wrote:

She is represented in a gloomy corridor of her palace, with the fatal fruit in her hand. As she passes, a gleam strikes on the wall behind her from some inlet suddenly opened, and admitting for a moment the sight of the upper world, she glances furtively towards it, immersed in thought. The incense-burner stands beside her as the attribute of a goddess. The ivy branch in the background may be taken as a symbol of clinging memory.

 

Stay Tuned for:

“Detector”

 

All material © 2011 for eastsidepatch. Unauthorized
intergalactic reproduction strictly prohibited, and
punishable by late (and extremely unpleasant)
14th century planet Earth techniques.

 

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