Marauding Mollusks

My least favorite garden pest is the snail. This is odd, considering my favorite aquarium pet is a snail. Maybe it's because the aquarium snails don't eat my garden! Not native to California, snails were brought here by European settlers planning to serve Escargot. A few of the slippery fellows slid away, and the rest is history. We are inundated.

Toxic Snail Bait not being a choice, alternative methods of abatement are many. Clearing the garden of hiding places will help keep the populations down. Some (who wish to not harm any living thing) go snail hunting at night to hand pick, and move them to another location. How far would one have to move the little munchers to keep them from returning like homing pigeons? Those with less scruples, who don’t mind a little Snail Karma on their hands, place them in zip-lock bags to be toted away in the trash. If you are into recycling, place snails into a paper bag, crush, and toss into the compost bin.

Like any other garden maintenance chore, snail hunting needs to be regularly repeated. Snails are hermaphrodites. Both male and female, they impregnate each other. Each one then produces up to 100 eggs. I have noticed that when I venture out at night, I inadvertently step on snails. What an easy disposal method! One might purposely walk back and forth crunching hundreds every night. Do not try this in Sandals, though!

Although a common remedy for killing snails is table salt, it is certainly not good for your garden, making the soil too alkaline. So, put the shaker away. I wonder if Epsom Salts would work?

Use a spray bottle containing a mixture of 1/2 vinegar and 1/2
water. When the snails came out to crunch, I gave 'em a good squirt, and they fizzled up in the same way they do when you salt them. The next morning, I noticed the ants quickly finishing them off. I wonder why this works. Isn't vinegar acidic? Is it good for the soil or plants? Would sunlight shining on a vinegar sprayed area cause a burn? Why did the vinegar have no effect on the ants? Some birds are supposed to be fond of snails. If they had a vinegar flavored snack would it be harmful? I swept up the carcasses and dumped them into my compost bin.

Copper is a very effective snail control. But, completely fencing one's yard with copper wire would be costly. Would throwing a copper powder unto the soil work? Copper stripping wrapped around trunks of fruit trees, flower pots, and at the base of any planting boxes where vegetation needs protection would help. Copper is effective for snail control because it produces an electric current that zaps the marauding mollusks. Does it destroy them or just deter them? Copper from an Auto Salvage shop or plumbing supply store would be as effective.

A well known method is beer traps, (which seem to work more on slugs than snails). Do not spray beer on snails! It is not the alcohol that attracts them, but the yeast. If that is the case, then why not snare snails with yeast cake? The idea is to place a dish of beer at soil level so they can crawl into the beer and drown themselves. Of course, the next morning, if you have been successful in attracting them, you will have slimy snail beer soup. Dispose at your discretion. I have also heard of using grape juice instead of beer. Does grape juice contain yeast? Has anyone produced effective results with this method?

Snails travel by "foot". This organ is quite delicate which is why they produce slime to travel upon. Any scratchy, sharp material will cut them so they will avoid such areas. Make their path too prickly with rough materials such as sand, gravel, wood ashes, crushed egg shells, or diatomaceous earth. Even bird grit available from pet shops, is useful.  Apply a thick layer of mulch such as pine, spruce needles, or cedar chips. Or use your own "foot" to stomp them out. The USDA suggests using Quackgrass (Agropyron Repens) as a mulch, to eradicate snails. Grow a patch of Quackgrass, cut some, let it dry, chop into small pieces and spread lightly around your plantings. Be careful about using this choice, as it can damage some plants.

The newest discovery is used coffee grounds. Aside from it being a great organic material to add to your soil, it is an effective snail deterrent. Most Coffee Houses will gladly give you their grounds. Spread it generously around your plants, and Snail, be gone!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Originally written for and published by the Monterey Bay Master Gardener's 
by Elizabeth Munroz

The aquatic golden snail lives in my aquarium. The other two were in the garden.

For the Wonder of a Tree

She stands
With breezes teasing
Long leaves dripping after rain
Named Willow,
an old and venerable one
verdant in the summer sun
She survives

Spending winter naked
Withdrawing into herself
to her roots
She hibernated
And slept while cold death
Bit at her branches
Yet she lives

By some miracle
She awoke
At the appointed time
The mystery
Known only to her
and her mother, Nature

She revels in this season
Shading all who pass by
Bending to the winds
In a private dance
The two repeat together
She’s a feast for the eyes
Against the turquoise skies

Yet she weeps

by Elizabeth Munroz

A Month in the Lives of Two Extraordinary People

The voice on the other end of the phone is that of a child in distress. "I c-c-c-can't do this. I I I just caaaaaaan't." she cries.

My heart goes out to her. She has been pushing for this for seven months. Begging and cajoling, cantankerous and fighting for her right to do this. And now the time is upon her. Everything has finally been arranged. All the obstacles have been overcome. She is finally getting what so desperately wanted... to go to the nursing home.

"I understand how you feel, Mom." I say in as soothing tones as I can manage. I wish I could be there for her, but live too far away. My sister is close, but has a job that keeps her from being there at Mom's beck and call. So, the best I can do is phone duty.

A part of me deep underneath is a little angry that she is acting like such a baby. But, I know, I truly know, how terrifically overwhelmed she must really be feeling to face that which she has feared all her life, even though this has most recently been her wish. She says she is a burden to Dad.

At 82, she is 85% blind with Macular Degeneration. She is becoming deaf. She has heart disease, high blood pressure and congestive heart failure. She has had three strokes already. Sometimes it seems she's not all there. She has arthritis so bad that just watching her attempt to walk upright with her walker is painful. Tiny little inch-by-inch steps, she can barely lift her feet off the ground, her hips so bad that it looks as though her knees are fused together, her ankles splayed outwards to hold her up. She cannot take care of herself. She has not been able to for a long time. Dad, at 87 has had his hands full trying to count out her pills day by day. His hands that are so arthritic and deformed, he cannot button a shirt or do any fine handwork. How he picks up each pill and puts it in the containers for the week is a mystery to me. He does not complain. He is devoted to her making up for all those lost years when he worked double shifts.

Mom is taking 37 pills per day. Dad has a chart on the wall to remind him which pill is to be taken at what time of day, with or without food. He recently got out of the hospital with pneumonia, a repcurrent complication he has faced these last few years because of his COPD. I'm glad all the arrangements have been made, and Dad will be relieved of his charge. (July 28, 2002) ~~~~~

I get a call from Mom in the nursing home. Dad comes to visit her after driving his golf cart along the busy road the couple miles it is from their home. I think maybe he is late and she's worried.

"All he does is watch the TV! And now, he's asleep on my bed again!" She is indignant sitting in her wheelchair watching him snore. "I don't know why he even bothers to come to visit!" I'm not surprised that Dad has gone to such lengths in the smoggy Los Angeles August heat. "Because he loves you, Mom, and I'm sure his misses you."

This seems to appease her and we talk of other things, how the aide was rude to her, how the food tastes terrible, how noisy the place is and she hates that man who yells all the time, even though she knows he can't help it. She's suspicious that her room mate has disappeared, even though I remind her that the family had arranged a transfer. She says they treat her like she's senile. They wont listen to her. She can't poop, she says. They wont do anything about it.

"This place is a Hell Hole!" she mutters in resignation.

By this, I know she is done complaining and I steer her into a direction of a younger time, where the thoughts are happier, a time when we lived near the lake, a time when life was full for her. I love these parts of our conversations. She always brings forth a new tidbit of information that opens the door to the past. She reminisces, calmer now. (August 20, 2002) ~~~~~

My sister calls me. "Do you know what Mom did?"

"Now what?" I'm thinking she cussed out an aide, or threw something.

"She called 911"

"What?"

"She called 911, and told them she was in terrible pain and needed help!"

"Oh, my God!"

"And you'll never guess what! They came right into the nursing home and took her to the emergency room at the hospital. She really was in pain. She hasn't been able to go to the bathroom for a week. They're going to clean her out and send her back in a day or two."

I am stunned. I can't believe what I am hearing. I'm annoyed at myself that I didn't take her problem more seriously. I'm annoyed the nursing home didn't keep track of things, or take her seriously. On the other hand, I am so proud of Mom. She's sharp as a tack. She's not losing it, after all! What a clever woman to take the initiative to call 911, and get the help she needed. I'm so glad the emergency team took her seriously. That's my Mom, Mrs. Feisty!

I'm laughing now as I picture the ambulance screaming into the parking lot, the emergency team entering the nursing home, asking where is room 134. I can see the shock on the faces of the aides. I can see the administrator swallowing his bile, as he realizes he will be reported to the state for neglect.

My sister laughs, too. "The nursing home administrator called Dad and told him to come in after she is released and take her home." (August 28, 2002) ~~~~~

I can see it now. Mom making sure things get done, running things the way she used to when we were kids. I can see Dad working double shifts helping to fix the electric problems to keep the lights bright in order to provide for her. In his spare time he sings with the choir. I can see her telling the angels what to do while he's away, maybe taking her to the thrift shop to buy some more knick-knacks to clutter up the place. I can see Dad coming home to their cloud and the two of them quietly, or probably not so quietly, spending the evening together while they discuss whether or not they will be watching Jeopardy or Star Trek on their heavenly TV. But, every night Dad will sing to her, "Good Night, Sweetheart" and she will be comforted. I can't imagine it any other way, and I know they are happy. (April 6, 2009)

Dad lived until age 90. Mom survived one year without him. But that is another story

Nothing to Fear, but Fear

I fear I am not in my perfect mind. - King Lear

afraid to break free
from depression
negativity
self-loathing
and loneliness.

afraid I'm not worthy
afraid nobody likes me
nobody needs me
wants me
loves me.

Afraid I'm incapable
of loving
being loved
or accepting love at all.

afraid of making bad impressions,
saying the wrong thing
at the wrong time,
of reversing my words,
slurring my sentences
into indistinguishable pratter,
stuttering aimlessly,
repeating myself----
not making any logical sense.

afraid food is stuck between my teeth
or booger hanging from nose
afraid teeth aren't white enough
or hair isn't shiny
it's too short
the bald spot showing

Afraid mascara will run
like the time
at a party
the guys commented
about my "unusual eyes"
I never knew it was smeared
'til I got to my car
rear view reflection
a raccoon woman stared

afraid of making friends
afraid of trusting
of believing in genuine kindness
or truth, honesty

I'm afraid to go to the beach
afraid to wear a swimsuit in public
afraid others will see my scars
the Bride of Frankenstein
afraid I smell like the Bride of Frankenstein
my body odor is offensive fifteen feet away,
or, worse, private secretions.
After all,
I can smell myself from here!

I'm afraid someone will get too close.
afraid of closeness
afraid of not having someone close.

I'm afraid my too-tight pants will split a seam,
afraid my zipper's been open all day,
and afraid nobody likes me well enough
to tell me,
"Hey, your zipper's open,
your make-up is smeared
There's a booger in your nose,
food in your teeth."

I'm afraid of not thinking clearly,
not being understood
not being heard
not being liked.

I'm afraid I spend too much time being so afraid.

Worst of all,
I'm afraid of not being anything else but who I am.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Acknowledging Fear
An exercise in self discovery
From Writing Class
Written summer 1976
Elizabeth Munroz

Spring Strawberries Grown Right Here in Watsonville

This message was sent using the Picture and Video Messaging service from Verizon Wireless!

A Drop of Golden Sun...

Broad daylight

off the freeway

taking the long way around

down the winding mountain road

surrounded by green lace

sparkling light flashes
like mini fireworks

fragrant Pine, Redwood, Madrone

tickling my nose

bringing that rare sense

all is right with the world.

a smile

Others escape with me,
some ahead
leading the way,

some behind me
in the mirror

all of us
snaking down the mountain together
fresh air soothing
sunlight sprinkling like snow

we meet the climbers,
from the other direction
all pass one another
like ants on a trail

I can't watch them now
focusing on cars ahead
red lights braking
car behind me
too close

In a flickering blink
a tawny creature flies

It's Bambi's mother

crossing the road
I can't breathe

A split second of hope
In one graceful ballerina leap,
she makes it!
almost...

SUV barrels round the curve
everyone brakes
stops in horror

She's down
all fours tucked round her,
as if resting in a field
her regal head raised
a long gash on her throat

Red so bright
It's the only color in the world.

she'll be alright

she says
with her eyes,
just give me a minute.

The monster backs up,
peals out around her
as if alone
as if no one saw!
a hit and run
Is it legal?
a hit and run on a doe?

Bambi's mother bleeds
I cry
pull over
close as I dare
the edge of the steep abyss
How did she fly so high?

"911 What is your emergency?"

A large deer was hit, she's lying on the old Soquel highway near ...

"Is it on the road or off the road?"

It's on ...  middle of other lane

"If it's dead, pull it off the road."

If I had the strength... I... How much could she weigh?

"Ma'am???"

She's alive.
Can she be rescued?

I'm distracted
People are standing by my window.

"Are you alright?"

Yes.... No!

"Did you hit the deer?"

No, not me. It was a hit and run! I stopped to call 911

I wave my cellphone... 

Where did these people come from?

The woman looks at my front bumper
at the dent there

so many years
shakes her head
says something
to the man beside her

"Ma'am, you need to tell me... the animal, is it alive or dead?

Is it blocking the road?"

I turn to look
Bambi's mother leaps up
a breath of hope
she falls
half on the road
half in the ditch
struggling
lifting her head
chest rising rapidly
her eyes wild now

"Ma'am, Ma'am... you need to pay attention to me. Is the animal blocking traffic?

Yes,  It's a very large deer.

a little white lie.
cars are passing by,
carefully, slowly,

traffic has not stopped.

"Animal control will take care of the situation. Stay there until they arrive"

Yes, Yes, okay

But, I don't stay
the doe looks dead

fog crawls in
to catch the spirit
and welcome it home 

No more green lace
or sunbeams
too cold for open window

I drive down the forested road
breathing in
and breathing out

Please note: The scenic pictures were taken by me. The deer pictures were not.

I struggled with the conversational punctuation. How does one do that in poetry? He said, she said sounds so unpoetic. Maybe this isn't a poem?

Lemon Escargot

Did you know that snails eat lemons? Now you have a new treat to feed your pet snail!

Actually, they don't eat the whole lemon, they just eat the rind, leaving the citrus hanging from the tree without it's skin. They have the appearance of a peeled tangerine and all the segments are not yet separated.

Poor naked lemons!

I suppose if one were to raise snails for escargot and fed them lemon rinds, they would be a new sensation in the gourmet world.

Maybe I should go out in my yard and collect up all those voracious lemon eating snails and ship them out of here, and make a little money on the side.

Anyone know where I can sell some escargot?

I have a lemon tree, a miniature Meyer lemon tree. Miniature is a relative word here. It's not any sort of bonsai. It's presently about 6 feet tall and maybe as wide at the base.

I wanted a Meyer lemon tree for ages. Why? You may ask. They are sweet for a lemon, and prized by gourmet chefs. You can't buy them in the supermarket. They don't ship well.

Regular lemons are dumped into giant trucks, driven across country and dumped at destination, their tough skins still intact. Meyers wouldn't be able to handle that. Meyers have a thinner rind than most, so all that dumping and jiggling around in a truck would just encourage them to spoil.

Yes, lemons can spoil. They can get mold if you cram them all together and deprive them of air circulation.

Needless to say, I'm not very happy about the snails. There are an overproduction of them in the area. They are fattening themselves up on all the spring greenery and bringing their cute little kids along for the feast. I guess you can tell I like snails. But, I wish they'd leave my lemons alone!!!

I have lemon every day in my tea. I suppose maybe, I am being selfish. The tree does produce a lot of lemons and I'm not in the business of selling them. I guess I just don't want to share! Granted I can wash them off before using, and I do that anyway. But, just the idea of my lemon juice squeezing out across an old snail trail, I just don't care for the concept. Thank you very much!

According to internet research there are all kinds of methods to get rid of them. Everything from poisons to, guess what, lemon juice!

I don't wish to use poisons. Some poor stray kitty might come along, walk over it, lick his paw and become sick. No poisons. Don't think the lemon juice is going to work!

What do you think?



100 Things to do with Meyer Lemons


Recipe using lemon in Escargot:

Apple Snail in White Wine


Ingredients 

2 cups of chopped apple snails 1 tablespoon lemon 2 teaspoons pepper 2 cups tomato sauce 1 cup water 1 teaspoon salt

6 cloves garlic 2 teaspoons oregano 1 cup white wine 1 sliced onion 2 tablespoons olive oil

Simmer the apple snails in an uncovered skillet in olive oil with the garlic, lemon, oregano, pepper, salt, sweet pepper and tomato sauce. Add the white wine, water and sliced onion. Cover the skillet and cook for 20 minutes.
Serve with rice or potatoes. (6 persons)

(By G. Perera & J.G. Walls, taken from the book: "Apple snails in the aquarium", see literature list)
(not licenced under creative commons))

21 Surefire Instructions to Becoming a Successful Author!

1. Make the decision to become a Successful writer Author. Think positive!

2. Decide to make that wish come true. Yes, you can do it!

3. Give yourself a month or two to publish your first novel. Mark the date on a calendar to encourage your goal. Be sure to feed the cat to avoid interruptions.

4. Writing by hand is imperative for ultimate brain-hand coordination. Do not use the computer, except for instructions below. Petting cat whenever necessary is important to prevent conflict and keep peace of mind.

5. Go to a high end stationary store. Buy a blank book with quality paper, best if it has a leather cover. Don't let cat chew on leather.

6. Carefully select about a dozen pens, all different. You never know what kind of mood your hand will be in to manipulate said pens. Expensive are usually better. Buy laser pen light for cat while you're at it.

7. Choose a desk or table to write upon. If you don't already have the right one, shop for one. Antique stores often have the kind of desk like famous authors use. Be sure it is big enough for the cat to stretch out.

8. Find the right location to place the table or desk, allowing plenty of light, or buy a good lamp to go with the table. Get flea treatment for cat.

9. Make sure you have a comfortable chair. Remove cat from chair.  Purchase a basket to place nearby so cat wont bother your creative energies.

10. Line up pens, open blank book, and prepare to begin. Prevent cat from disturbing pens by covering them with an upside down baking pan. Encourage cat to lie down in cat basket.

11. Adjust curtains or lamp for optimal lighting. Allow enough room for cat to warm itself in window or beneath lamp.

12. Prepare beverage and snacks. Keep yourself nourished. Keep some cat treats nearby for the cat or give tidbits from your sandwich.

13. Return all phone calls to avoid interference with writing. Give cat hairball medicine regularly to prevent stains on your pages.

14. Check emails and reply so they wont be on your mind. Give catnip to cat.

15. Go to Amazon and order books on writing. "How to write a novel in six weeks" is a good one. Use cat basket to store cat toys.

16. Sign up for online courses on writing. Throw mousies for cat to play with. If arm gets tired, use laser pen light to keep cat occupied.

17. Join various writing groups and sign up for their newsletters. If you run out of cat food, go buy more. A hungry cat can be quite insistent and interfere with concentration!

18. Make sure to get enough rest so your mind is fresh. Allow cat to lie down with you for cat's comfort and warmth. Do not disturb cat if lying on your legs, chest or neck.

19. Create a blog and facebook fan page to keep everyone informed of your progress. Upload all the cute pictures you have taken of the cat.

20. Repeat all instructions until task is completed.

21. If unable to become a successful writer author within 10 years or so, accept your lot in life, and understand it is through no fault of your own. The blame goes to the cat!

Desperate for Clean Water

When you're little, you put your whole body into it. Easy enough to grab the handle and push it up, but getting it back down, you had to jump, put all your weight on it to get it into down position, then lift as fast as you can to get the next one going down.Your best bet was to have a gallon of water handy to pour down inside the pump, in order to not kill yourself trying to pump the water. For my Dad or big brother, it seemed a miracle they could pump gallons and gallons of water into the cistern with one arm pumping. That's how it was with our sweet, pure well water. My how things have changed.

Today there's so much controversy about drinking water. Is my faucet water safe to drink? What about plastic bottled water and it's effect upon the environment. What's your plan of action? Got one? I didn't. Then one day while at the grocery store, I noticed that there were no special sales on bottled water. You know, those packs of 24 handy dandy, carry with you, clean, clear, mountain streams healthy, unpolluted water? That stuff. Since it wasn't on sale and I knew I would need at least the 24 bottles or more to get me through the week, I hesitated. Whoa! If I bought two packs that would be a pretty big chunk of cash.

I thought to save money by calling up the local bottled water company, one of those who bring it to your door in big jugs. You can by the special dispenser, only 80 to 100 bucks if you want the one that gives you instant hot and instant cold water. I got the plain dispenser, a crock and wooden stand, for under 50 bucks. Then there is the bottle deposit. Five dollars up front. Not bad as long as I keep returning the old bottles for the new ones. Then, I could expect the bottled water truck to come to my house and deliver five gallon jugs. Soon I was paying for 5 gallons of "fine" distilled or spring water (probably filtered tap) a month. Still, it was less expensive than buying a month's worth of 24 packs even on sale. Plus, I felt better about not adding to the growing problem of disposing of the empty bottles. Let us not go into the leaching of chemicals into those bottles according to some sources. Save that for another time, when I can get all the facts.

About a year later, I began to be a little haunted by my new set up. I'm sure you know what the water was delivered in? Plastic. Nice thick plastic that wouldn't crack if you dropped one on the sidewalk while unloading it from the truck. The truck driving all over the county with the heat piercing through the jugs of water.

Did you know, by the way, that one gallon of water weighs 8 pounds?  I don't know how much the plastic fiver weighed. It seemed light when empty. One of the hassles I ran into was I couldn't lift the 40 plus pounds up over my shoulder in order to turn it over into the dispenser. So, my options were to stay home and wait for the delivery guy to load one for me. Two problems with that: staying home all day until he showed up, and hopefully have an empty bottle sitting on top of my dispenser to trade in. My other option was to wait until the weekend when my Superman came to visit. Again this depended on whether or not the previous bottle was empty. Sometimes if not entirely, I would take enough out, and pour it into the aquarium, which seems to evaporate faster than I can drink water!

Superman said, it's less expensive to get the water ourselves from one of those water dispenser stores. So I discontinued the service, and we went to the local store and bought two five gallon, and one 3 gallon jugs. We've been going every weekend to refill and reload onto my water crock dispenser.

Now I question the wisdom in this. Wish I had some clear, pure water. Wish I had that pump in the backyard, that pump going deep underground into the well. I would jump up. I would push down. I would prime the pump. I could use the exercise.

Cries with Cop

I started to cry while driving on the freeway. I have no idea why. It wasn't simply that sense of tears starting to spring that you can hold back with a tightness in the throat. No, this came from somewhere deep. Like a volcano wanting to break loose. Tears unbidden. Tears with plans of their own.

I knew I had to get off the freeway as soon as possible to avoid being a danger to others. I can drive while crying. I've done it before. Haven't we all? It wasn't even a matter of understanding why I felt so sad.

There was an exit up ahead a couple miles, but I had to pull over right there and then.  I had the flashers on so that other drivers would at least notice I was on the side of the road. Not wanting to break down sobbing, I was looking around for some tissues, and thereby noticed from the rear view mirror, a vehicle coming up on me  from the rear. A police vehicle. Oh dear, oh yuck, oh %^*&! Can I get a traffic ticket for having pulled over on the freeway without having a flat tire of overheated engine? I would soon find out.

Officers in this area frequently come up to the passenger side of the car to talk to the driver, because the danger of a high speed vehicle clipping them while passing too closely. Therefore when the officer came to my door, I opened it so he could lean in. It was just beginning to sprinkle.

He took one look at me, and I noticed in his eyes a flicker of recognition. He knew instinctively that this wasn't a stalled car problem. Maybe he was thinking, a crying woman, Oh no, oh yuck, oh %^*&!". But he said with concern, "Are you all right, Ma'am?"

I didn't know what to say. (I just started crying for no reason, officer, over nothing?) No, I didn't say that. I lied. Okay, maybe not a full lie, a little white lie. I told him my mother died last year... and a bit of overwhelming grief struck me while driving... and I thought it would be safer for me to pull over to calm down. He said some comforting words, and to get me out of danger of the traffic, he followed me to the next exit.

Maybe it is true after all. Maybe I am missing my mother. She was 87 when she died a couple years ago. She was my best supporter, and loved to me read anything I might have written. A letter, a poem, a story, one of my opinionated pieces or a journal page about my cats. She would have liked this posting to know a caring cop had stopped to help her daughter. She would have understood how tears and sadness come from nowhere, with no known reason. She would have understood my white lie.

Please note:  I love to take pictures of vintage cars. The last picture is of my Mom in our 1955 Nash Rambler. 

The Ending of an Era

Farewell Cruel World! They came to take me away today. I warned you. Didn't I? I was all nice about it, and thoughtful. But, did anyone take me seriously? No! Now I am being replaced by a fancy new 1.6 gallon low flow toilet. It just breaks my heart that I am being retired. I feel so useless! Though, I must admit the young Miss Low Flow is quite a beauty. I peaked around the corner and saw her as they lifted her out of her shipping box. Two big burly guys. They weren't needed. I could have lifted her myself. She's so lightweight and her tank is slim and sleek. Her bowl amazingly functional.

Not only am I jealous, I am in total awe of her. How could I possibly compete with her? Why would I want to? She is definitely superior to my old clunky water guzzling ways. I bet she wont leak for hours and hours as I did. I bet she wont leak at all! No one will have to come check on her and wiggle her handle to stop the leak. Oh, woe is me. I'm done for.

I know for sure, she will use less water too flush than I did. When they built me, they weren't thinking at all. Were they? Who needs five to eight gallons of water to flush away well, you know... two cups of...  human water?

And here she is Miss Efficiency, Miss How Green is Your Environmental Footprint, How Shiny is Your Curvy Seat. Oh, she's a beauty all right. No wonder everyone wants her. Only one and a half gallon flush! How does she do it? Amazing. What a wonderful way to save water. What an even more wonderful way to save money on the water bill! She is one incredible piece of equipment. She will be the focus of so much respect and attention for her service to the community and the world. Truly, I wish her the best her life in the bathroom can offer her.

When they hauled me out of there, it wasn't too bad. Really. They were quick and careful. They took me outside and set me in the garden. Oh! I have never seen a garden before in my entire life!

I went from manufacture, to box, to bathroom and that's where I've been ever since.  I can't even remember how many years ago. I guess that's why I and others like me are becoming obsolete.

But, this garden! I thought I had died and gone to heaven! Would this be my resting place forever more? It was filled with light and beauty, and I had the most peaceful feeling. No more struggles with plumbing. I thought, maybe, just maybe, I would be one of those toilets that gets to stay in the front yard and have flowers growing out of my bowl, like you see in the magazines.

They even talked about it a minute. But, I realized they were joking when they gently picked me up and put me in their vehicle. Is it the end for me? Is there nothing more? Will be garbage be dumped on me at the city dump until I can never see the light of day again?

But, wait a minute? They were talking. My user, the person to whom I have provided services all these years was concerned for me. She asked the question so pertinent to my future. "What happens next, Mr. Green Guy? You've replace the old toilet with a low flow one to help save water. But what happens to the old one? Is there any way it can be recycled?"

"Oh, yes", he said. "Toilets are made of porcelain, which is mostly made of clay. Porcelain can be ground down and used to make new porcelain items. Also, recycled toilet porcelain makes an excellent porous drainage material. It's a good substitute for gravel and can also be used as road base in state highways."

Well, now! I guess I really have died and gone to heaven. And now, my valuable porcelain will get a make over. I will be reincarnated! I will enter into a new kind of being. Imagine that! I can be part of a state highway! Say hi to me, everybody, as you safely pass over me. I will support your roadway. I will be useful again!

In case you missed the first part of the story, the following post relates Mr. Wasteful Flusher's first concerns about his demise:
http://mymoonrose.blogspot.com/2010/02/run-away-toilet.html

Wasting Water

When I moved here I found the yard very dry. I began watering every day and tried to loosen the soil. Nurturing it along, I began to create a garden of favorite plants, which needed more nutrients and more watering. The picture on the left it my house with unsightly lawn, a few straggling rose bushes. I tried to save them. I tried.

As the decade has gone by, it has been a losing battle. I kept working hard using my best gardening skills, after all, I am certified as a Master Gardener through the University of Santa Cruz. I kept spending money in the hopes that I would finally have a well established garden which would, more or less, take care of itself. Some plants did well. Some did not.

Unexpected protracted winter freezes, unusual for my climate, damaged favorites which needed special care to come back only to be damaged again during another year's freeze. Even though I watched the weather and ran outside to cover my precious plants, trees and shrubs, still frost damage occurred. During foggy times of the year, some plants were affected by mold.

I stopped attempting to amend the soil. I stopped watering the wasted garden so much. I had gotten to the point to make the decision. A little wisdom goes a long way and it was time to let nature take it's course. The plants died off that were not suited to my climate. As a Master Gardener, I should have known better.

Slowly, I have replaced them with Native plants  or Mediterranean plants which grow symbiotically here in the soil as it is, with the weather as it is, with the water or lack of water as it is.

As time goes by I hope to have a self sustaining garden, and a very cheap water bill.

Doesn't look like the same house. Does it?

First Anniversary

I look at the mess winter has created outside my back door. I look at the mess the birds have made with all the sunflower seed shells. I'm responsible for some of that mess. I've been feeding them. The possum has contributed, too; trying to get to the bird seed, tipping over pots and stools and other garden paraphernalia. Not to mention his...  poop! Opossum's poop a lot, and not just in one place. It's everywhere!

I'm sad. This mess is sad. It's a sorry excuse for a memorial park. A memorial plot, I mean. There's no honor here.

Last year at this time, I was beside myself in shock. I had all the symptoms, rapid pulse, cold skin, perspiration, tightness in the chest, and an overwhelming sense of horror. Who knew that loving someone so much for twenty years could bring upon such intensity?

I couldn't comprehend the possibility that I would remain sane. I sure didn't feel sane. That first six months was the most difficult. I went to bed at night and all I could think about was her. Not the good times we had. No. All I could think about was her death, and the things that led up to it.  I awoke in the same thought pattern. I couldn't stop myself.

As clear as the moment it happened, I see her now, heading out the door as I reach for the mail, She's plodding across the yard to the far corner where her favorite plant grows. I head out behind her, hobbling along due to my recent surgery. I like to be with her, watching, as she pads around her plant, and sniffs selectively. Though I worry, she avoids the bumble bees like an expert and finds that one perfectly formed leaf for her enjoyment. She nibbles. I'll catch up to her soon. I can break off a stem, carry her back inside.

This was not catnip. Though Keli enjoyed catnip, she also had a penchant for a closely related plant most of us call cat mint. She preferred it over regular catnip. She had passed up the big patch of catnip by the door in order to get to her special plant.

If only she hadn't.

I wasn't fast enough. The neighbor had let her dogs out and headed toward my house. It was almost like I saw it coming. I couldn't run. There was no way I could have stopped it.

It was instantaneous.


I heard a blood curdling scream as the dog's body slammed my little eight pound girl. It was me who screamed but it sounded like it came from outside myself, as if the whole neighborhood had screamed. I can't say I saw her hurled away. It happened so fast. Have I blocked it?

I kept going over that in my mind, trying to capture that moment. Was she under her own power in escaping? Certainly she was suddenly not there, and my scream had startled the dog and his owner, so much that everything  shifted. The dog stood stock still and did not give chase, but ran away. The neighbor and I had harsh words.

Since the door was still open, Keli had made her way back inside before I got there. I examined her. No blood. She seemed herself. She seemed okay sitting there on her rocking chair, as usual.

It took two weeks as her life began to fade. I took her to the Vet, not relating the episode with the dog to her demise. It was the Vet who wrote in her chart about a mass in her abdomen, the lack of bowel sounds. He asked if she'd been injured. Then, it all clicked. It was too late to save her, he said. I could pay a thousand dollars and they would do everything they could, but he didn't feel there would be much hope at her advanced age, the fact she was dehydrated, etc. etc. I needed to let her go. He was very kind. Seemed like he loved her as much as I.

NEVER, NEVER, NEVER take your very sick pet to the vet without having a friend go with you!!! Driving home is extremely dangerous, for other drivers, as well as yourself. Several times, I had to pull over just to breathe. I was convinced I would pass out, but not within my senses enough to just stop driving entirely. Very dangerous.

Every night before I slept I re-lived the vet office visit, her looking into my eyes with such clarity that last moment. Every morning the same thing. I thought I would die from the grief. I wished I would. I felt insane.

So here I was a year later, and her resting place beside the back door was... a mess. Naturally, I got busy and started cleaning.

I decided to go out to her favorite plant, her cat mint, dig it up, transplant it, put it beside her. It gets such beautiful blue flowers on it. The neighborhood cats wont disturb it. She was the only one who ever munched on it.

Much to my surprise, I can't even call it surprise, just imagine ..... well, you explain it.

I found the location of Keli's cat mint and discover instead, a four foot circle of dead plant. All the spring flowers and grasses surround that circle. But, nothing invades the space that once was the living plant my cat loved.

Can you explain it? How very, very odd.