Jam Packed

I have not stepped foot in my garden. As most readers know this is rare.

The garden is where I lived/live for and was the topic of many a blog post. This year there have been no flowers lining the garden for me to water each morning.

No hanging baskets in the front to mist. The break has been a relief although it has been sad.
Susan Branch's blog has provided the needed garden fix as hers has come to fruition. Along with her new book based on the trip to England she took this last year.

Saved me the trip! But I still need to own that book.


In the two years that I have delegated the duties, the raspberry transplants mom got from her friend, have taken over the garden.

So I lied. I stepped out  in my garden  this morning wearing black rain boots while everyone was still snoozing.

And I saw the damage....

The vines have taken over my Rhubarb patch. Um. That was the basis of one of my books.... The Blessing of Rhubarb Pie.

(look! you  can barely see my Rhubarb, choked out!)

Now we have raspberries coming out of our ears. Madre has canned them. She even weeded the other day. As a result was biten 7 times by some black looking bug.

The bites made her arms swell up.. She had to go on prednisone for an allergic reaction! HELLO!

I don't know if this is the year of the arachnids, or what.

Remember how I'd sit on my little stool like a little nimph out there and just weed? Not on your life now.

The stool is about rusted away and that doesn't help, but unless Padre gets out there with some big gun pesticides, I'm throwing in the towel on the garden.

Each evening around mid-night when Padre settles down and looks outside he will lament the raspberry situation.

Padre: People covet those. [raspberries].

Me: (ignoring the implication I go out there and can them, right there outside, off the vine.)

Padre: "that is what I work for."

Me: Rasberries? I was totally under the impression you worked to have mom make you bacon and to have your own, monogrammed towel. Man, I was way off!

 

(so as no one else will use your towel...)

Padre: "To come home and enjoy the fruits of my labor; i.e. canned jam on toast.
Folks would jump through hoops to have those. [berries that have ripened right before our eyes]

 

okay I just paraphrased there.

 

He actually used some very colorful language that needed censoring. But that is the jist.

 

The old man really loves to pour cream over raspberries in a bowl and saturate them with sugar.

 

As do I.

 

Then he will notice all the apples that have dropped on the grass. Overnight they fall off the branches and are squishy applesauce consistency by late afternoon.

 

 

Madre: "Don't worry, Honey. The mower's will pick them up on Monday."

Me: (aren't we, as in J. and I, 'The Mowers' ?)

Unless we get a bee keeper's costume, I'm not going out there to weed, cut back vines from my blessed Rhubarb, or can.

And I need a new gardening stool. Mine is on it's last leg.

*Tragic Update! How stupid can I be? In the name of gathering raspberries and pictures for this blog,

 I got bit! !!!!!

 

Twice!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

I immediately made a paste:

Two teaspoons of Apple Cider Vinegar and then baking soda. Or should it have been baking powder?
Something I saw somewhere to help draw out venom.

 

J said:  "That garden is FORBIDDEN!

 

Tidbits for bites that I googled- have NO idea if any work:

Apparently I should have walked out there after spritzing myself with pure Vanilla.

Didn't. Sooo.  Now what?

 

Probably Lyme Disease.

 

DIY Spray

Mosquito Bites: This recipe from simplycadence.com had four ingredients (witch hazel, Listerine, apple cider vinegar and scented oil) but was still easy to make. Mix it all in a spray bottle, shake it up and spraysaway. The first obvious downside is that it has the strong odor — makes a really strong — odor.

 

 

 

Spit on it. has antibiotics in it apparently.

Make a past with mud if desperate.

Super hot water on it or hot compress immediately afterward. 

Vicks rubbed on the bite.

 

Insect Bites

Banana Peel rubbed on it...

 

too tired to research any more.