I won the lottery

You’re thinking I’m being symbolic, right? Stay tuned. Meanwhile, a few important points of the past November in Alaska. I don’t say this is the worst November ever, because I’m an optimist. It could always be worse. But I think everything has suffered in comparison since my October jaunt to Florida.

1. November 1. Get into car accident on freeway. Airbags are deployed, thankfully not tempers. At least the kids are ok.

2. November 3. The kids are not ok: discover they have head lice. 

3. November 7. The fruits of my gambling career (with thanks to my octogenarian grandfather for showing me the ropes) that began on October 9 of this year: I fill out lottery winnings paperwork and send off to the great state of Florida. Envelope must be addressed to “Florida Lottery, Claims Processing.” As I write this address on the envelope my expectations of a payout dwindle. Just who, may I ask, upon seeing this envelope, would not be seized by an irresistible desire to rip it open?

Further contributing to my doubts, the back of the lottery ticket reads: “The risk of mailing ticket remains with the player,” which serves the dual purpose of covering theft by post office employee, lottery employee, loss of mail, or even act of God. A neat bit of work from the same breed of lawyer that crafted “do not eat raw batter” printed on the back of the cake mix box. Pfui!

4. November 8. I am talked out of seeing “Ender’s Game” at the movie theater and instead watch “Gravity”. I should have known better. Any movie that kills off George Clooney can’t be good. Nearly lose my dinner during the first twenty minutes eighty minutes. After Sandra Bullock lands in the water and floats to the top, my first thought was, “What, no shark?” closely followed by my second thought, “At least I’ll die on Earth.” If you get sick on boats, do not see this movie. You’re welcome.

5. November 9. I cheat Mother Nature and transplant three bits of Calamagrostis ‘Eldorado’ to the front garden. Weather is unseasonably warm in the 40’s (Fahrenheit).

6. November 12. Mother Nature doesn’t take kindly to cheaters. Things freeze and no snow.

7. November 15. After the whole house is laundered, wiped down, vacuumed, etc., and two hours minimum spent every day combing through hair, I am now an expert on lice. All this close grooming feels a little chimpanzee-like with the possible exceptions of the headlamp and tweezers. And no one eats the findings.

8. November 18. At 8:02am, I hear something so dreadful and shocking, I mentally curse the radio station that airs it. In future, let’s save “Jingle Bells” for after Thanksgiving (November 28), shall we? Boo on Magic 98.9FM in Anchorage. For my mental health, the radio in my car will now be at the classical music station until December 26, the official (at this blog anyway) Auditory Sanity Reclamation Day.

9. November 19. I had a chance to note the time for this milestone as well. At 8:09 am, it was –15F. Which would be well and good if this were January or northern Greenland.

 

I know you are all wondering if I am going to quit this cold country and retire with my Powerball lottery winnings to some warm, louse-free place, so I will set your mind at ease. I won $11. Which would be more impressive if the tickets hadn’t cost me $10. I wonder what delights December will bring?

 

Seen any movies? Christmas tunes in the air?

There are stranger things than this

It’s that time again, gardeners and Alaskans. That time of year when I take a gander at the search keywords that lead poor souls to this blog. That time of year when I get to be Sherlock Holmes and ponder the limited evidence and make a deduction (sans dark trench coat, Y chromosome, and hobbling doctor assistant: take that Mr. Cumberbatch!). This will be fun.

1. “golf trinkets and trash” Why not start off with a bang? My first instinct is “huh?” followed closely by “what exactly are golf trinkets?” I imagine some flashy golden tees or argyle golf socks made from cashmere. Or maybe rhinestone encrusted golf balls. Just what is it about my blog that would attract this traffic?

2. ”night fish dip net” What is a night fish? Is it related to a night crawler? Dip netting at night is a good way to a. most likely break some fishing regulations, b. slice off a finger with a filet knife, c. annoy your sleeping dip net compatriots on the beach, or d. all of the above.

3. “pictures of potty kids in the wilderness” This must require some sort of background or understanding of lingo. Otherwise, should I be calling the FBI? This is not that kind of blog. Or (if my first reaction has misunderstood the query badly), use a plastic concessions cup…trust me, it is the best bathroom in the wild short of a wag bag. If you do not know what a wag bag is, you are lucky and not from Alaska.

4. “calamagrostis x acutiflora ‘karl foerster’” Yes. That is the only answer. Five minimum, nine is better. Anything over twelve and I will be your devoted admirer. Just promise me you won’t fertilize or place in more than 1/2 day shade.

5. “music forgot to change their” Their what???? Diapers, front man, tablecloth…help me out here!

6. “bunny boots alaska” Oh, all right. Even though I have written about this before. Pick the black pair unless you are an avid snowmachiner. In that case, the unofficial rule requires you to have the white pair or be endlessly mocked as a newbie or idiot. You’re welcome.

7. “alaska snowfall on trees and free ph…” I may never sleep well again. Free phones, free photos, free phish, free pharmacy technician training (scary!), free phenytoin level, free physical exam. You pick, I’m going for photos.

8. “gardening christmas songs” I may be the only garden blogger to riff on a holiday song (read here). Since I abhor research unless absolutely necessary, I will never know. For early holiday music rage prevention Last Frontier style, read here.

 

Do you watch or read mysteries? A Sherlock devotee?

A river runs through it, finally, almost

I posted a couple of years ago on this topic and didn’t realize quite how aspirational putting in a dry river bed proved to be. Never fear, it is still aspirational. This means I haven’t finished yet, but “aspirational” sounds so magazine editor I just can’t resist. “Unfinished project” sounds more Alaskan though, so it’s a toss up.

1. Now every river in Alaska need some salmon. If I have a trademark (besides inserting (unnecessary) parentheticals in my blog posts or having my hair done a brand new color every 6 months) it is my rusty salmon. So clearly they are included in a dry river bed.

2. How about some driftwood? Luckily Alaska has about as much coastline as a small continent, so plenty of places to harvest that. Currently acquisitions are from the mudflats behind the Kincaid Park chalet. Yes, there were inquisitive looks as I stumped up the paved trail with a twenty foot hunk of battered tree on my shoulder. To say nothing of the smaller pieces shoved willy nilly under my other arm. Luckily driftwood is very light weight. One observer actually had the temerity to laugh when a very long piece would not quite fit into the back of the truck. Phooey!

3. Rocks. Must not forget the rocks. Gravel river beds are as Alaskan as blue tarps, moose, and junked automobiles in the front yard. The autumn of 2012 saw the delivery of 13 tons of gravel to the Last Frontier Garden. And since my garden motto has been reduced to “go big or go home” we are having another 12 tons delivered next week. As we have no excavator handy, my back is starting some anticipatory twinges for the shovel work.

Also in this category are large rocks. Back twinges from shoveling gravel graduate to spasms with a sure promise of shooting pains. I don’t rule out groans and grunts when dealing with the small boulder size. My two best friends: a long pry bar and an electric heating pad for when it’s all over. Also useful: family members built like NFL linebackers with about 300 pounds of pure muscle. I’m still looking for a few on Craigslist.

4. Alaska is home to a bazillion kinds of grasses and grass allies. I once wrote a (slightly) technical article on the subject for the Alaska Master Gardeners, Anchorage home page (read it here), but I am too lazy to consult it for the actual number of grasses in this 49th state. Suffice to say, there are not may rivers in Alaska without grass waving around nearby.

I didn’t want the river to look too fancy (Alaska is not fancy in any way), if that makes sense, so no variegated grass. You’ll pardon me a moment while I mop up my tears, for variegated grasses were so beautiful and useful in my last garden it nearly breaks my heart not to use them liberally in the dry riverbed. Must. Be. Strong. I guess the yellow and chartreuse leaved grasses are out under the “fancy” rule, too. This just sounds no fun anymore.

Yet I persevere and come up with the (apparently ubiquitous in the Lower 48, but still not well enough known in Alaska) standby: Calamagrostis x acutiflora ‘Karl Foerster.’ I didn’t know this plant was as common as Potentilla or Pelargonium until a national gardening magazine informed me of the fact, having the gall to write “overused”. I generally like the aforementioned publication, so instead of firing off a heated letter to the editor, I just imitated my 12 year old and said, “whatever.” It helps somewhat.

Calamagrostis brachytricha was chosen to keep it’s taller and stiffer cousin company in the river. Not a “look a me” type plant, but a good mingler and not fancy. Alas.

5. Structure, woman! What are you going to look at when it snows? Besides the driftwood, big rocks, and rusty fish. So in go a couple of Physocarpus opulifolius ‘Center Glow’. Don’t judge me. I have to deal with moose, bears, and a snow blower in the unfenced front yard so sacrifices must be made. Remember, no fancy.

6. And the piece de resistance will be a Pinus aristata, the sublime bristlecone pine. I left a small 3 foot specimen at my last garden and haven’t forgotten it. Tragically for my wallet, a small specimen would look ridiculously out of scale next to the tall front facade of my house. So a bigger chap will be necessary and very pricey. I’m taller than the 5-foot, $700 specimen balled and burlapped at the tree lot, but the cost of an 8-footer might put me behind on the mortgage payment for a couple of months. Perhaps I should print up my standard “new garden” flier for the neighbors: Looks dumb now, but wait 10 years!

All this dry riverbed business at my place was started because we had some drainage problems that required a massive excavation and French drain installation in front of the house. Since some of the turf grass was demolished for that, it seemed the perfect excuse to put in my first garden at our new house. It took three years, but now I feel more legitimate. The Last Frontier Garden has a garden. Woohoo!

 

What is part of a dry river bed in your area landscapes?