Redo…the poisoned fence…

It is hard to tell, and I will get some small, more floral plants to go in between, but I now have a place for my citrus and hibiscus.

I just need to be vigilant.

Yesterday, I posted my issues with flowers next to our fence. It is just enough dirt to look as if it needs something. I have tried sedum, coral bells, phlox, coneflowers, some of which just came from volunteers. The volunteers are few and far between this year. The poppies no longer came, the coneflowers disappeared as did, apparently, the phlox. I cannot believe how much I have transplanted there over the years.

It is clear, there is poison in the soil and I have to wait until it departs.

This is just a small part of the driveway, the part within our gate. I still have sedum growing on the rest of it, but it too has suffered the poison routine. It is a bit more difficult to poison on the rest as malbor has grasses growing on his half, a DMZ that he even divided almost completely with a steel divider. That IS how crazy he is.

In the past, he used to give us tomatoes when he had an overload. Then, one day, something turned in his brain and he became angry and we became the focal point of his anger at the entire world.

Periodically we hear him screaming at his wife and other family members. His fifty something son also lives with him as does his wife. For the most part, it is contained within the house that only recently, because of his COPD, has been more open. It is not enough to call the police.

When MK reached out to his wife, he overheard and that was part of the beginning of his anger. Now, he is angry at me since I don’t

Thank you all for your brilliant idea to put some potted plants there.

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On the fence…

2020

2020

2020

2021 – NOW

I have been carefully watching the flowers next to the fence. For years I have dealt with trying to beautify the area. I cannot believe how many plants I have tried growing here over the years. I have gone from sedum to coneflowers to the phlox that volunteered there. Last year, toward the end of the season, things went from beautiful to bad. This year, I have nary a flower nor a weed to deal with.

Mary Kay has not always agreed with me as she thinks I am buying into some crazy plot of malbor’s. Nonetheless, over the years, we have had many different flowers that have come and gone. It would depend on all sorts of things. This IS the first year where I cannot get one single plant to grow beyond about three inches. Last year’s beauty is totally gone and there are a few coral bells, no coneflowers, and the rest is maybe a wild violet or two, but they have NOT bloomed.

Malbor took out all of the soil on his side of the fence and put in some strange, ugly, red volcanic type stones that he finds decorative. Originally, the DMZ, otherwise known as the plot of land between our driveways, had white marble stones that turned brown very quickly, never looked nice, and that I finally removed. I am soon to return to putting our coffee grounds on the area to maybe help offset the poison that malbor is clearly pouring on his stones.

One would think that if one had COPD, that dealing with lawn and garden chemicals would not be a good thing. As it happens, Mr. Monsanto has been out very little taking care of the poisoned property. Ironic that I would have a Monarch butterfly Waystation in our yard.

Anyway, the proof of what he is doing is shown in the pictures from 2020 and 2021. I am just counting the days…

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Dreams

Chagall window at the Chicago Art Institute.

Dreams

I have fascinating dreams yet, like most people, I cannot remember them. I keep hearing that I should jot them down right away, but I am always too selfish to lose any extra sleep. I usually wake up more than once and want to instead hit the hay once more.

Last night I somehow ended up in Australia. Of note, however, is that nobody had an Australian accent, which is one that I like. I recall being in a very strange car, a very expensive one, but for whatever reason I didn’t recognize the brand. It was stranded in the middle of a very large boulevard and I was not my usual self and not frantic at all about the situation. It had a huge, strange, trunk area, and it opened oddly, with strange Technology, and I did have things to put in. When I finally got in, the dream was done.

Another part of the dream involved one of my sons. I went into the garage, a subject of my dismay as although the garage is a good size, it is a terrible garage, sided with vinyl (now) over composite, what we used to call buffalo board. The board was stained and well, dissolving right in front of us. The garage was clearly not of the vintage of our house, built in 1953 or so, and was clearly put up later. It is a very deep two car garage and serves as garage and basement, since I don’t have a basement. Anyway, add into all the other issues it has, the concrete floor was clearly not done well and has huge fissures that used to fill up with leaves and dirt. I finally got smart, bought special flooring that is pieced (well) in the center, and that can be easily cleaned. Anyway, I had walked into the garage to find that our son had brought in power equipment, had sanded the floor down in the high spots so that it was totally flat and had filled in the cracks and it was painted to look great. It looked amazing. I think that is a good omen.

Oh, dreams!

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Fourteen Seasons: Heartland

Sometimes one watches a program that one does not expect to watch.

Hallmark is not one of my favorite channels, I am just saying…

Heartland is a program of fourteen seasons, found in Canada, and one of the most popular Canadian series of all times.

We just finished watching the fourteenth season, one that had us purchasing, temporarily, a strange streaming app, in order to do so. I canceled it immediately afterward. We also just found out that a fifteenth season is going to be filmed. We shall watch that as well, once it comes out for us.

The program is pretty much a family program and I would put it one notch better than a Hallmark film. Okay, maybe two… I liked it for several reasons: the focus on the western part of Canada, a small town in Alberta. It is based upon a series of books by Lauren Brooke and features a family: Amy Fleming, her older sister Lou as they live and work at the family ranch, Heartland. They live there with their loving, widowed grandfather, Jack Bartlett, their father (who arrives a bit after the first episodes) Tim Fleming, and a hired hand named Ty Borden.

It is the longest, one hour, scripted drama ever in Canadian television history.

Amy Fleming is kind of a horse whisperer, something she takes from her genetics as her deceased mom was exactly like her and often she refers to her mom’s journals for wholistic ways of dealing with the psychology and the ailments of horses. There is diversity in the characters and they are dealing with all sorts of everyday issues, be they personal or environmental. We started watching this program on Netflix, if I am not mistaken, and I think it may be available on Amazon Prime.

The first few episodes were slow and I was not sure I would want to continue but by the middle of the first season, we were hooked. If you want something to watch that is light, yet good, this is the one. The horses alone and the countryside of western Canada make it even more worth it.

Don’t miss it!

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Hot and Hazy

Freshly groomed Stewart in the heat. I have his pool all set for him to cool off.

It is very hot and very hazy. Those who have allergy and/or lung issues are not having a good time. In these days, malbor has been pretty much non-existent. Not that I want people to suffer, but I understand the frustration of those who have to deal with extremely disturbed, hateful, narcissistic individuals who wreak havoc in so many peoples’ lives and bully their way through everything. Most importantly, it seems that they almost always get away with it. Their feelings of righteousness are absolutely frightening and their treatment of others is at the level of evil. How and why they do not get any help is beyond my ability to think.

We are having a calm Sunday. My only sadness is that we shall not get into the pool today. We are dog sitting and I have already set up a rope to place the retractable leash I have so that Mr. Wiener is not able to escape. Despite our very nice fence, he is so small that he managed to get out last time and MK had to chase him down the street. I have a rope strung up which the retractable leash can move along on. No matter what we do, Mr. Wiener manages to somehow get caught up, though

I want to finish this up and clean off the patio as well as maybe read the New York Times and the Chicago Tribune.

I have searched for our fat Monarch caterpillar who I think has hung it all up and maybe made the chrysalis. I don’t see him/her anywhere. I didn’t know that they do not put their chrysalis on the milkweed and had returned him/her to the milkweed before moving him/her back to the spot where I had found him, two meters away by the back door.

Okay, the heat is up and I have things to do…

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