We're moving...

Actually, I've already moved - to West Virginia... And I'm relocating the blog to "Appalachian Anecdotes - Musings in Marion County".  I will be transferring some of the old articles, deleting the rest, and adding fresh material on a regular basis.

Best to you all in 2014!

Heather

Better Really Late Than Never

I'm about a year late in writing this and I probably won't get through the whole thing in one sitting.  If I'd written it in a timely manner, I might have named it "What I Did on my Spring Vacation 2010", or "How I Spent My 2009 Tax Return", or "I'm Glad I Did It Once But I'd Never Do It Again".  Or maybe "Heather's Opus".  Yeah, I think I like that last one.  Let's go with that.

I've always wanted a pond.  A pretty, tranquil pond with a few fish (preferably koi) swimming languidly about.  Never came close to having one, but it was always in the back of my mind.

So let's go back in time about 365 days.

When spring begins to even hint of coming around, I go somewhat mad.  I can't be trusted near a garden center with a credit card (I think I've told you that before, but I'm getting old and repeating my stories, so just be quiet and listen), and if I don't end the day with dirt under my fingernails and mosquito bites behind my knees it wasn't a good day. I can be seen unashamedly wearing my ghastly, bright yellow Black Kow T-shirt, (obtained with proofs of purchase), which loudly declares "The Mature Manure".  I once saw a man in a store wearing the exact same shirt and I knew he was a kindred soul.  "Proofs of purchase," I asked?  "Yes!" he beamed.  It's a sickness.

Anyway, Spring of 2010 rolled around. It had been a really long, crappy, freaking cold, winter (please imagine those last few words in huge, bold, capped, red letters) and I decided it was my year for a pond.  Just a tiny one, you know; oh, say, 3'x3', maybe in the little corner of the flower bed by the back porch door.  I'd have to relocate the hydrangea, but that wouldn't be a big deal. 

So off I went to the library to get some books on the subject.  I'm big on books.  I get that from my dad.  Whatever the project is, you start out with research - lots of it.  By the time you're done researching you sound like you know what you're talking about.  You know all the in's and out's; all the equipment, what to expect in general, how to prepare for it, and you could do whatever it is blindfolded.  With my preparation skills it's quite possible I could have been a Boy Scout, if they hadn't had the good sense to say "No Girls Allowed". 

Now, first of all, let me say I read a lot of books on the pond subject, ten or twelve altogether (plus a couple on koi)...surfed a lot of web sites...bought a few magazine from Lowe's (again, a dangerous place for me to be in Spring).  Frankly, it didn't look much like rocket science.  Most of the people in the photographs shown building the ponds were women.  Their hair was all in place, their boots and gloves were clean, and their faces smiling with the pure pleasure and ease of it all.  Now, mind you, I wasn't entirely fooled.  I knew it wouldn't be quite as easy as they were making it look.  But, in keeping with my favorite motto, "How hard can it be?", I plunged ahead.

Before the Pond

The first thing to do was finalize the location.  The spot by the back porch door was good, but if I were going to go to all this trouble, why not make the pond just a tad larger and put it somewhere else (read: cha-ching!).  Besides, the hydrangea is so happy in that spot.  My yard is itty-bitty, and surrounded by huge oak trees all belonging to my neighbors, so options were limited.  There was a great spot - perfect, really - behind the wisteria-draped pergola, underneath the towering, old oak at the back southwest corner.  It was pretty much wasted space back there; a somewhat pie-shaped affair, and a bit of a no-man's-land that landscaping and leaf-raking forgot.  Falling leaves from the towering oak would be an issue but, as my brother pointed out, that was going to be a problem anywhere in the yard.  So that decided it.

Only the Beginning

         Job One, Day One, was to clean out the area corner behind the pergola.   I hauled out more than 15 big bags of leaves, noting that this would be the approximate amount of leaves which would fall in the pond every season.  (I wasn't far wrong, by the way.)  Then I dug up the walking irises and put them in a bucket, hoping they would live.  I pulled up the pavers from the area where the pond itself would go.  Several, which were cemented to the posts of the pergola, I had to beat to piece with a hammer to remove (nothing like having the right tool for the job).  I saved the extra pavers and the fragments.  The whole blocks I used to extend the patio on the right side, and the various pieces were used to shore up the waterfall area.  Then I marked out a circle where the pavers had been as a guide for the pool portion of the water feature.

First Shovel Full

My initial plan for the feature was a "spring," with a small pond as the "headwater," back near the property corner.  The spring would spill into a little stream, which would step and wind gently down and fall into a deeper pond, which would extend out between the columns and in front of the pergola - oh, perhaps 5' or so in diameter.


The first two days of actual digging commenced with excavating the spring pool, and then digging my little stream bed.

PVC blocking my stream

Day Two (of many, many more than I anticipated to come) wasn't easy.  It wasn't long before I hit a speed bump in the form of running into buried sprinkler lines.  Mulling over what to do, I finally decided I would have to dig new trenches, cut the lines, and relocate the PVC.  It wouldn't be easy.  In fact, it would be a real pain in the keister.  But it was smack in the way of my stream bed and I knew how to cut PVC, owned a pipe cutter, and have used plumber's dope more than once.  How hard could it be?

Back to digging.

Broken Shovel, Day One

By the end of Day Two, I had also broken my relatively new, supposedly indestructible, Tru-Tuff shovel - the one with the lifetime guarantee.  But Tru-Tuff was no match for Heather and the oak tree's root system (of which, as it turned out, there were a total of three levels, at varying depths, and increasing diameters, below the surface of the dirt).   I spent some time trying to collect on that lifetime guarantee, until I discovered the company was located in Mexico and realized they were never, ever, ever going to return an email.  Good way to save money on those pesky warranty claims.  So I bought a new shovel, which can be chocked up to Expense #1 Of Many On Which I Had Not Counted.

But I was not deterred.

Day Three (and I pretty much quit counting days after that) was a show-stopper all on its own. 

I continued forming the spring and stream bed, carefully avoiding treading on the PVC, which I decided (based on my habit of always postponing unpleasant tasks as long as  possible) I would move later.  I have a pretty bad back, so I have to take things slowly.  Late in the day I found a small pet collar buried eight inches or so below the surface.  "Nemo," read the name tag.  "Hmm.  Wonder how that got here?"  Dig, dig, huff, puff, dig, dig....and then....I hit a heavy-duty, black plastic trash bag with something in it.  Let's see: Nemo's collar and, a foot away, a loaded trash bag.  Not a good combo.

That screeching noise you just heard was digging coming to a very speedy and abrupt halt.

Nemo's final resting place (and, by the way, if the irony of that name is lost on you, you're probably thick, but drop me a line and I'll explain it to you) lay smack in the path of my stream bed.  There was no way literally or figuratively to get around it.  I hadn't been looking forward to the several extra days' work relocating the sprinkler line would add, but I REALLY wasn't looking forward to relocating Nemo (may he rest in peace, amen). 

So I decided to scrap the whole spring/stream plan and switch it to building a berm and constructing a waterfall over Nemo instead.  Yeah, I'd lost a couple days' digging, but I'd saved the time and cost involved in relocating the PVC, and Nemo could continue, undisturbed, sleeping with the fishes.  (Get it? "Sleeping with the fishes"?  Oh, never mind.)      

There were several things I didn't consider when making this fateful decision.  First, I had no clue whatsoever of the immense amount of extra work, and incredible physical toll it would have on my weak back.  Nor did I even think to calculate the skyrocketing expense I was in for in switching from lowly stream to lofty waterfall.  If I had, I might have changed my mind and rudely disturbed Nemo's peaceful slumber.

But I also didn't realized how much more beautiful it would all turn out to be.  So, in my usual state of ignorant bliss, I plunged ahead made the right decision.

To be continued.... 

Pavers Out, Pond Marked

  
With my plan finally gelling, and my work cut out for me, I began digging in earnest.  The area where the pond would go is surrounded by oak trees, azaleas, and wisteria.  Just beneath the surface of the dirt, kept mostly dry from many years of pavers being in place, was a tough, tangled, fibrous, web of fine roots.  It was difficult to dig through and headway was slow.  Each shovel-full of dirt, from whatever direction I was digging, had to be thrown back into a pile where the falls' berm would be, covering the sprinkler lines and Nemo once and for all.  Digging was hot, slow, filthy, hard, and back-breaking.

Once through the initial surface root system, the digging got a little bit easier for a while.  Then, about a foot down, I hit a second system of roots; this time with fewer, but larger, roots about 1"-3" in diameter.  These I hacked out with my little, old hatchet (again, right tool: right job), and continued digging.


Finally, about three feet down I hit larger roots, of which there were quite a few.  These were up to 5" around, hard as steel, and I had nothing with which to remove them.  My cheap, old, long unused, chainsaw quit on me within minutes of being fired up, which was just as well.  It would no longer keep the chain tight and I was more than a little concerned it was going to fly off at any moment, separating my flesh from my kneecaps. 


I hacked with my little hatchet, and then tried a hacksaw, but I might as well have been using a butter knife.  

Then my brother came to the rescue.  He loaned me his jigsaw, and I whipped them out in no time.  Finally, the right tool for the job!  I dug out from around the roots, cutting way back beneath the dirt, so no root would touch the pond liner when it was in place.

By this time many days had passed.  In-between my real job, I was working full time on the pond, digging with every spare bit of time and energy I had. 

The earth beneath the patio pavers was hard, dry and compacted, but once I passed the third level of roots the digging got easier and I was working with a vengeance, for which my back dearly paid for months to come.  Several trips to the chiropractor can be added to the list of expenses on which I had not counted.

Starting to Look Like Something!

I made a trip south to a rock place down in Ocala and purchase my first of many loads of rock, and loaded them up in the back of my faithful, little Honda Element.  My friend Sarah went with me, and we selected the four large, flat rocks over which the water would spill, as well as a small assortment of periphery stones.  

The relocated pavers and first small load of rock.

Later, I found another rock place, Hillbilly Rock, just north of town, where the rock was much cheaper, the people far more friendly and helpful, and the selection better.  By the time it was over with I was on their frequent flier program.  

Since I didn't have a wheelbarrow, and didn't want to add yet another large expense to my tally, I hand-carried each rock from my driveway to the back yard.  Some were too big to carry, and those I rolled, cringing as they clanked down my sidewalk, hoping they - or the walkway - didn't crack.  Smaller rocks I lugged back in a bucket.  The three largest rocks I paid someone to carry back for me.  

Several weeks later, the berm and pond excavation were nearly completed.  I had read the berm needed to settle for quite a while, and I watered it down lightly for many days to hasten the compacting.  

I carefully formed the stair-step falls, and pools beneath them.  The lovely sound of water is created and enhanced not just by the water itself dropping, but by the hollow behind the falls and the depth of the pool into which it falls.  Each overspill of water was carefully planned and the pool beneath it dug deep to create a soothing gurgle.  I viewed the falls from many angles in the yard.  The the main vantage point would, of course, be poolside, but I wanted it to be aesthetically pleasing from any angle in the yard.  I also turned each spillway one way or another just a bit, so that the water did not drop straight down, but rather winded down a bit, adding to the naturalized look I hoped for.  The final drop into the pool was a tiny one, just a couple of inches, so that the water spills over gently, not disturbing the surface of the quiet pool.

The edge of the pool itself I dug in an inexact circle, again to make it seem less a man-made "necklace" (as the books all called it) of stones and more as if Nature herself had put it there.

Dumpster Diving

The books also suggested a cushioned layer between the pond liner and the dirt beneath it.  You can buy specialized padding from pond stores, but I went dumpster diving out behind a local carpet store for scraps.  I'm pretty sure the carpet salesman thought I was a complete nut case, but he humored me anyway I came home with the back of the Element full of somewhat smelly carpet scraps with which I lined the pond hip-deep pond.

By now, a month had gone by, the berm had had time to settle, and I could commence again.

Filling for the first time.

The next step was the only one I didn't do "all by myself."  My neighbor, Mike, came over and helped me stretch out the liner.  I had calculated the necessary size (13'x20') carefully, measuring dips and hollows, and, though there was extra to be cut away in some areas, I had just barely enough in several others.  

Pond Liner in Place and Filled with Water for the First Time

It would have to be drained out again, but together Mike and I watched the pond fill, pushing, pulling and tugging the liner into place, as the weight of the water fitted it into the nooks and crannies of the pond.

I began placing rocks here and there around the feature, both to anchor the liner and let it all settle, as well as get an idea of what would go where and how much more rock I would need.  It didn't take long to figure out I was going to need a whole lot more rock, a realization I continued to have anew on multiple occasions throughout the construction.  But I was pleased with how it was all taking shape.  

The First of MANY bags of mortar

I left the pond filled with water and the stones in place for several days so everything could settle and then I mixed my very first bag of mortar.  

I mixed in cement colorants - a combination of rust and black - to naturalize and darken the color from the stark, concrete-gray, mortar.  The bags weighed 80 pounds each and, like the stones, I hand carried each one from my car to the construction site.  I lost track of how many I ultimately used, but I would estimate 15 - 20.  

First Few Stones Set as a Base Beneath the Peripheral Flagstones

I had never worked with mortar and stones before, other than mixing up cement in which to set posts and such.  So I began with a little trepidation.  The mixing process was, for me, quite difficult, but by the time it was over - several weeks to come - I was slopping it on like an old pro.  

I worked day, by day, usually making it through at least one bag of mortar.

I ran out of stones many times and made multiple visits to Hillbilly Rock, where they were always pleased to see me pull in.  All told, the rock cost about $700.  The liner was about $40. 

Every stone was hand-selected.  Though some were less important "filler" rocks, harmony in color, and between the types of stone, was critical to an overall natural, woodsy look.  Much of the rock is Tennessee Field Stone, some is slate, among others.  Many stones were selected for their exact ultimate location already in mind.  It would have been cheaper to have utilized the native Florida sandstone, but I did not care for the color or texture in this application

Though far from finished, significant progress has been made.

To be continued....

My pond is in its third year now.  After the photograph above, I continued to "rock in" working from the base upward, mortaring in smaller, flat stones, until you can no longer see the liner.  This contributed substantially to the cost and work involved but the effect is very natural, as if you happened upon it in the woods and worth the extra expense and effort.

I initially installed a $130 750-gallon-per-hour PondSmart pump with a UV light which kills algae which I purchased from Lowe's.  The pump contained a small, on-board filter which, depending upon the time of year, had to be cleaned out once a month or so.  The only other routine maintenance is skimming leaves occasionally.  Overall, the maintenance is pretty low-key.

Every spring I use a wet/dry shop vac to empty out the contents, and then scrub and refill it.  This spring I replaced the original pump which, though it still worked, had slowed considerably.  The new pump is 1,000 gph and is almost overkill.  It does not contain the UV light so we will see how the algae fairs without it.  I also attached a box filter which has added clarity to the water the smaller pump's filter did not offer.  Both of these are the Tetra brand and were purchased through Amazon.  

 

I felt the dimensions of the pond were insufficient to comfortably house koi (who also like to devour lily pads) and opted instead for fancy-tail goldfish.  They have spawned the past two springs, with a few fry making it past the sushi stage.  Other critters of all sorts are drawn to my backyard oasis, including resident bullfrogs, thirsty squirrels, birds of all sorts who also use it to bathe in the gurgling waterfall, and dragonflies who dip into the tranquil surface and hover on the irises.   

 

The pond made a beautiful addition to my home, adding countless hours of joyful peace, and my friends and I have enjoyed it immensely.

What the Squirrels and the Bulldog Haven't Eaten Yet

Boy, you just wait 'til I get my hands on you....!

COMMON NAME: Squirrel

SCIENTIFIC NAME: Treeis Ratus

GLOBAL POPULATION: 80 bajillion


TERRITORY: My back yard and pretty much everywhere else, too.

NOTES:  Don't get me wrong, I love squirrels.  I used to know a guy who trapped them in his yard, stuffed them in a sack, tied the sack to his car exhaust, and then gassed them with carbon monoxide.  How he justified such an atrocity, I will never be able to comprehend, but I'm pretty sure there's a special place in the next life for people who hurt little animals.
 
Squirrels are adorable and entertaining.  They get into my bird feeder, make a huge, wasteful mess, and I don't mind.  I just fill it back up, making sure there are plenty of sunflower seeds because they like those, and then watch them dangle from the branches above to get at it again.  They dig up my flower beds all year, alternately hiding and retrieving acorns.  They live in the roof of my back porch, raising their litters in the false ceiling (usually two per year), scampering around all hours and raising cane.  Their ingress is right above my kitchen window, and I can see the tiny babies poking their heads out on their first visit to the big world.  I talk to them and they look down on me with wonder.  It's probably not the best of places for me to let them stay; Heaven knows what kind of mess they're making or what wiring is up there which they might be gnawing on.  But it gets so cold in the winter and I just don't have the heart to block them out. 

But I'll tell you this: IF I CATCH THE LITTLE SON-OF-A-GUN WHO HAS BEEN EATING MY IRIS BUDS, JUST AS THEY ARE SWELLING AND ABOUT TO BURST INTO BLOOM, I'M GOING TO BOP HIM ON THE HEAD!!!

Happy Morning

I awakened this morning to an uncustomary cacophony of chirping.  My first thought was, "The robins are back!"

American Robins in my backyard pond

"Turdus migratorius," as they were unpoetically named by some long-dead ornithologist, pass through twice a year.  Though there are always a few small bands of stragglers, they never stay more than a day or two.  I am always sorry to see them heading south for winter, taking summer with them.  But they spend the cold months in the Bahamas and Bermuda, among other places, so they're probably having a better winter than I here in frozen north Florida.  Their all-too-brief passing in spring makes me smile.  Soon the earth will reawaken and the flowers will bloom again. 

It is far too late for them to be heading south and seemed a bit too early to be heading north. But sure enough, I peeked into the back yard and the ancient oak tree was alive with robins, their cheery conversation filling the crisp morning air.  Thronging around my little pond they chattered happily to each other as they bathed, drank, and splashed in the icy water.

Within a few hours, as quickly as they came, they were gone.  Their brief sojourn brought a happy smile to my day.  And I couldn't help but wonder what robins talk about on long journeys.

Wonders never cease....

How old is Bambina now… nine, ten years old?  I can never remember whether Wes found her his junior or sophomore year.  “Bella Bamina Diablita,” we named her.  Very loosely translated, “Pretty Little Devil Girl.”  For such a tiny kitten, she was awfully feisty. 

She loves her “brother,” Banger….rubs against him, sleeps next to him, follows him in the yard.  Like any brother, he alternately tolerates and ignores her…but they’re chums, you know, pals.  I frequently come home to find the two of them on the couch (where animals don’t belong), curled up next to each other. 

Anyone who knows Banger, and I am sure Bambina is no exception, knows there is something wrong with him now.  Her brother is sick and she may not quite know why, but she knows.  He has good days and bad days anymore; sadly, more of the latter.   A stroke or two will do that to even the best of old dogs. 

His favorite thing in the world was always a walk… gotta mark the entire neighborhood, you know.  As important as territory is, though, these days he’s not always up to claiming it.  His gait is sometimes awkward and he often looks up at me, confused and unsure.  But tonight, after working a twelve hour shift, and really just wanting to fall into a chair, I came home to find him looking like he was up for a stroll.  So we gathered leash and bag and set out the door.  Tonight was a good night for an old dog.

Bambina followed us out the door.  Never venturing past her own driveway, she waits for us to come home, frequently hiding in the bushes and jumping out to scare us as we turn up our walk.  But, half-way down the block, I turned and was amazed to see a silhouette slinking along behind us.  Never has she followed so far.  When we reached the corner I thought surely she would turn for home, but onward she came.  Another half block, and she was still with us, slinking from shadow to shadow.  I marveled as she turned another corner, and another, following us the duration of a 35-40 minute walk, always on the dark periphery, but always close at hand. 

What, after ten years of waiting at home, while her brother and I headed out on our strolls, made her decide to tag along tonight?  It was no different than any of a thousand nights.  After a decade, did she suddenly become brave and curious?  Or, like me, does she worry maybe her brother’s time is short and she’d like to spend as much of it with him as possible?  I’m sure I have no idea. 

But as we strolled along together in the darkness, the smell of night-blooming flowers in the air, and trees dripping from the recent rain…just the three of us…it was one of the happiest moments of my life.  Theirs, too, I am sure.  

++++++++++++++++++++

Bambina never went on another walk with us.  Banger died October 9th, 2010, three weeks short of his 15th birthday.  We miss you, dear old friend, but we'll see you again.

of False Starts and Flowery Finishes

Armed with the Nikon F-301 film camera my son gave me, and a fresh roll of film, I set off to Kanapaha Botanical Gardens bright and early. And, on the pretense of keeping it running properly while he is away on deployment, I also took his sporty convertible instead of my boxy Honda. You can't be too careful about vehicular maintenance!

I had been looking forward to seeing the gardens again. Kanapaha has a couple of big plant sales each year, the biggest of which are Spring and Fall. In the fall, the accompanying orchid show is a treat, and I was eager to work with my camera some more.

Arriving at the Gardens, I followed the somewhat circuitous path indicated by the kids volunteering from NJROTC, and made my way to the parking area in a field out in the back forty. Entering from the far side of the park, the first stop is the Water Gardens and I positioned myself for what I hoped would the first of more than a few terrific, if lucky, shots and pushed the button. The camera made a lugging noise, beeped uncooperatively several times, and then refused to do anything else. I'm no engineer, but I deduced that perhaps the batteries were dead so.....

Back to the car I traipsed...back out the winding path to the main road...and off to the nearest gas station. OK, so maybe I'm a bit of an idiot, but I had a dickens of a time figuring out where the batteries went. But about the time the Indian behind the counter inside was probably starting to wonder what on earth I was doing out there, I located a little screwy knob on the bottom of the camera and - voila - battery compartment. That little chore done, back to the Gardens I drove...back around the circuitous path...back to the parking field to a new and improved spot which offered shade under an oak tree (and also birdy poopy on the seats when I returned later in the afternoon)...and back to the Water Gardens.

The Water Gardens, including its ponds, streams and waterfalls, as well as irrigation throughout the park, are supplied with reclaimed water from Gainesville Regional Utilities' nearby Kanapaha Water Treatment Plant. The reclaimed water is high in nitrogen and phosphorous, and the perfect brew for the many species of water plants, including the world's largest water lily, Amazonian Water Platters. Now, all that greenie stuff is well and good, but what I really like is feeding the koi!

Electing to bypass the orchid show and plant sale for the moment, I entered the path which winds from Garden to Garden, meandering around the periphery of a wide expanse of meadow which is the center of the park.

The first display is the Vinery, where wisteria and Confederate jasmine cover the arbors and trellises. Bumblebees and butterflies feast on nectar from more types of flowering vines than I can name, including honeysuckle, passion flower, and lace ferns.

From there, the path leads into the Nature Trail where, on your right, is a giant ship's anchor found off the coast of St. Augustine, the oldest city in America, in 1939.

The Nature Trail is North Central Florida in her next-to-natural state. The meandering path curves though an at once wild, and well tended, hardwood hammock of native species such as cabbage palm, Southern Magnolia, live oak, laurel and sugarberry trees. And, as is not uncommon in this part of Florida, the Nature Trail also offers prime examples of sink holes!

The long path through the shady Nature Trail opens up into the enormous Herb Garden, which is tended by my friend, Jonathan. Hundreds of herbs, for countless purported applications, are arranged in geometrical, maze-like patters. The "Knot Garden," though now past its seasonal prime, is planted in a classical Celtic knot. Informational signs offer names and uses of each plant, some of which are familiar and some highly unusual.



According to ancient writings, Buddha found enlightenment sitting under a Bo Tree. This is Jonathan doing his best to get a clue under a Bo sapling! It takes a Bo Tree hundreds of years to mature, so this may take a while! ;)

One of my favorite displays at Kanapaha Gardens is the bamboo forest, which is the largest collection of bamboo in the state. It is peaceful there, in the shade of hundred-foot-tall forests. The wind rustles the leaves and gently rattle the canes, as water trickles from the shishi-odoshi fountain.

Walking slowly, trying to take it all in, I made my way from garden to garden. Each time I walk the paths I see something I missed before; some new treasure of Nature, the simple appreciation of which brings me peace and contentment.The photos didn't come out half-bad, either!

(click to enlarge)