Green Thumb

     There are people who just naturally have a green thumb and then there’s me. I have more of a black thumb. Once I brought some houseplants home and my husband told them, “Oh no! Run! Run! This is the plant graveyard!” I couldn’t argue much with that reputation.  

     But, my thumb has slowly been getting greener. There is one small South facing window in the house where there has been significant plant life for over a decade. Several African violets, jade plants, and orchids are doing quite well, thank you, on my kitchen window sill.

That narrow 5” shelf is the one green zone in our house.

     Outside, our yard is heavily wooded so it’s not ideal for grass or plants that like sun. Moss, ferns and Rhododendrons are happy campers under the Douglas Firs and Cedars. A couple of hardy Forsythia bushes in rare sunny spots are also thriving.

     One of our “eccentric," actually rude, neighbors thinks her yard extends inside our side of the fence between us. Earlier this year she decided to replace her fence. For the 17 years we’ve lived here that fence hasn’t moved, so as far as we’re concerned, that is the property line. She claims they had to put the fence inside her property line because there’s a terrace there.

     For all the years we’ve been here, she has never known our names. She just peers over the fence and makes generic, rude comments like, “Hi neighbor! It looks like a jungle over there!” This time she told us the dates when the fence crew would be working—a good thing since we’ve got dogs.

     A week before the new fence was scheduled to go up, I heard Kona barking like crazy. I hustled outside to see what was going on. The neighbor was trying to come into our yard and telling Kona, “Nice dog! Nice dog!” I corralled Kona up on our deck. Who is stupid enough to keep approaching a barking dog that is obviously guarding her territory?

     I stopped letting Kona out into our yard. It’s a good thing because for the entire week leading up to the fence being built I looked out to see Her Rudeness perched up on the wall on our side of the fence, weeding. Weeding, and throwing it all into our yard on top of our rose bushes, hydrangeas, etc. -–our “jungle” landscaping.

     We were angry about the mess she was raining down into our yard, in addition to not being able to let our dogs out unsupervised. I wanted to ask her when she was coming over to get all her “weeds” that she dumped in our yard, but John didn’t think it was worth it. He was recovering from back surgery. So I didn’t say anything.

Piles of yard waste "donated" by our neighbor.

     The work crew came and put the fence up. It’s taller than the old fence which is fine with me. She told John that she doesn’t want to have to look at her neighbors. Did she forget that he’s one of those neighbors? I agree, I don’t want to see her either.

     I really didn’t appreciate sitting at my kitchen table and looking at the piles of yard debris while I ate. John couldn’t clean it up with his back recovering. I couldn’t take it for long. I dragged our yard waste bin around the house and started clearing the mess out. In March I started filling the bin up, and wheeling it out to the curb every other week.

    By mid-April I had shoveled and raked most of the weeds into a manageable pile that I could load into the yard waste bin every other Thursday.  Luckily, in May, our city has a Spring Cleanup. You are allowed to put extra bags of yard waste out and they will collect it for free.  In the end, I put a total of 8 bins worth of yard waste out to be collected. Thanks neighbor!

Another full yard waste bin.

     It must’ve been the weeks of sweaty, muscle-straining yard work during the unusually warm and sunny Spring weather that eventually burned off my anger and tamed it into annoyance.  My favorite gardening tool is a 28" pair of loppers. I named her Cyndi—Cyndi Lopper. 

Cyndi Lopper

Bond. James Bond.

I named her little 15" friend James—James Bond. Together we hacked through the overgrowth in that small area along the side of the house. Once it was cleared out, it dawned on me that maybe the rude one had actually done us an unintentional favor.

Fence up and piles of weeds cleared.

     After taking a few deep breaths, I could envision a tiny oasis of a garden tucked into the terraces. All it needed was a few more rose bushes, some heather, and a couple more blueberry bushes to replace some that we lost. Somehow the vision grew almost as big as the weeds that I had cleared out. I would go to the store to get groceries and end up with hydrangeas and fuschias in my basket.

Fuschias

I went to get something at the hardware store and pushed my cart out loaded with tomato plants and organic herbs. Funky yard art beckoned from store shelves.

Froggie does some Zumba moves.

Plant food replaced my grocery list.

      Our daughter gave me a gardenia for Mother’s Day.

Gardenia.

A friend who also started gardening gave me some lilac starts, and later some jasmine.

Lilac cuttings.

Jasmine cuttings.

I gave her some Vinca (or Periwinkle) ground cover that I had plenty of.

Periwinkle (Vinca)

I took one of the dogs to the vet and someone there with a green thumb had put out corn plants to take for a donation to their “buddy” fund. John brought baby kale starts home from work. Another neighbor has offered me more hydrangeas in the fall. Spring fever has lasted into summer and I haven’t even been to the farmer’s market yet!

     The transformation is complete. I’m as shocked as John is. I’m a gardener! Admittedly, I’m winging it and also relying a lot on information from the internet, and from local gardening columnist Marianne Binetti. Some of my methods are no-brainers. I put the food crops in containers up on the deck because they’re easier to maintain that way plus a much longer trip for slugs to make. 

Herb garden.

Four mint varieties.

     Some of my methods are a bit unorthodox. I recently found that the leading pest of corn in our area is a certain Golden Doodle who thinks corn stalks are chew toys. I considered buying chicken wire and fencing off that corner of the deck. Then in a lazy moment of not wanting to go to the store, I thought, “What do I have a lot of lying around here?” Flash—fabric!  I strung some clothesline across the deck and clothes pinned a few yards of bright tropical fabric to it.

Tomatoes and corn behind the makeshift curtain. 

So far the curtain is working and I’m happy to report that all the plants are alive!

     I love walking out on our deck and snipping some green onions, parsley, rosemary or basil to cook with, or a sprig of fresh mint to put in my iced tea.

Tomatoes!

There are tomatoes and blueberries plumping up, and strawberries ripening in the strawberry pot I unearthed during the cleanup.

Blueberries

Strawberries!

Now in the morning when I’m eating breakfast I look out the window at my little Garden of Weedin’ and start the day with a smile and a green thumb’s up.

Laura Keolanui Stark has turned over a new leaf. She can be reached at stark.laura.k@gmail.com.

The Story of a Golden Doodle

                In March a familiar face joined our pack. Here is his story which began more than a year ago.

         Our son Johnny and his girlfriend Kit have a co-worker named Claudine. One day Claudine said that she wanted to buy a Golden Doodle from a breeder up north in Arlington, but she needed a ride up there. Kit said she’d take her.   Johnny said he’d go along, to make sure that Kit didn’t get a puppy too.

        At the breeder’s house eight or nine 3-week old puppies were frolicking with each other in a pen. Claudine talked to the owner who showed her which puppies were available. Only three were not spoken for.  While Claudine was looking them over and focusing on one with a squared off Golden Retriever nose, Johnny and Kit were watching the other puppies.

        There's nothing much cuter on earth than a puppy. A whole litter of puppies multiplies the cuteness factor exponentially! The brothers and sisters were running around falling all over each other while they played.  One sat calmly apart from the fray. Kit picked him up and he hugged her arm with both of his front legs. She petted him and told him, “I’m not the one you have to convince. That gruff guy over there is.”

Mr. Quiet Hugger, Jan 16, 2015

      Then she handed him to Johnny. He “hugged” Johnny’s arm with his little crossed front legs.

      Claudine paid for her puppy, who she could pick up when he was older and weaned from his mother. They got back in the car and headed south toward Seattle.

       While they rode home, Johnny got online and googled Golden Doodles. Wikipedia said that they were hypoallergenic and highly intelligent. He liked the traits they listed. He really liked the picture of an adult Golden Doodle. They had only driven a few miles when he called the breeder and told her they wanted the last male puppy left, Mr. Quiet Hugger.  Good thing he kept Kit from getting a puppy!

A month later, in February 2015, Johnny came to visit. Tucked under one arm was what we thought was a toy, until it wiggled. The “toy” was an adorable ball of light caramel colored fluff with two dark brown eyes—a nine week old Golden Doodle puppy!  He had just gotten him.

After Sarah and I stopped squealing, we started playing with him. John encouraged rough housing and let him chew on his arm. We started coming up with possible names. Watson fit him. 
Kona and Suzie were curious. Pippin our cat was unimpressed. Java, our other cat was oblivious.

We went on a shopping spree at PetSmart and got him a brown leather collar, matching leash, and lots of toys. We were all smitten with a serious case of puppy love!

         

Over the next year, Johnny potty and crate trained Watson. He taught him all the things a puppy needs to know plus some extra tricks—how to walk on a leash, sit, down, fetch, turn around, shake hands (or paws), speak, etc. He bathed him and groomed him, keeping his fur fluffy and un-matted. Johnny wasn’t sure what size poodle Watson’s poodle parent was (miniature or standard?) so he had no idea how big Watson would get.

Johnny and Kit work for a pet-friendly company, so Watson made friends at the office and also got to see his brother Jake regularly. 

Jake and Watson at the office.

Watson made friends everywhere he went, including the doorman/woman in the high rise building where they lived.

A few times I dog-sat Watson and his brother Jake at the condo. They were just two wild and crazy pups running around a 430 sq. ft. studio.

Puppy-sitting Watson and Jake at the condo.

Of the two of them, Jake was a little bigger and more serious.

Puppy sitting at our house with Suzie. Jake left, Watson on the right.

       Once I took care of Jake while his “parents” went out of town. He loved mixing it up with Kona up on our deck and could get the upper paw on her in the short distance since she’s bigger and he was more nimble.

An hour before his “Dad” was coming to pick him up, I accidentally left the deck gate open and they both tore off down into the yard. Kona seized her opportunity and beat him on the long haul. She pounced on him and pinned him in the dusty dirt pile that used to be our lawn. An epic wrestling match ensued. Neither one of them listened to my pleas to stop!

Jake and Kona

I had to run back upstairs to get leashes while they rolled around in the dirt bowl. When the dust literally settled, Jake was a Cocoa Doodle. His beautiful blond coat was like a powder puff full of dark brown dust. I was horrified. One casual shake and Kona’s more sleek Lab/Shepard/Husky-ish coat was back to normal, but Jake was a mess. He poofed when I patted him. I couldn’t return him like that.

I got a brush and started brushing like mad. It didn’t help. I ended up giving him a bath and hoping the drain wouldn’t clog with the muddy water that came off of him even after he’d been lathered up three times. He was still a little damp when Claudine’s fiancé Alan picked him up. Thankfully, he thought the whole thing was funny.

But getting back to Watson, he had grown up to weigh 55 pounds and stood 32” tall. He is a high energy guy, and he was a city dog. They lived in a tiny studio in the Belltown neighborhood of Seattle surrounded by high rise buildings.

Johnny, Watson and Kit picking me up at
SeaTac Airport.

I was amazed that Johnny even could potty train him since the closest patch of grass for Watson was down a hall, past the elevators, through the condo lobby, and across a five-lane street with a traffic light.

Every other dog within a few city blocks used the same patch of grass. And, Seattle’s nonstop winter rain meant the sun didn’t get a chance to dry the area out. Even though people were good about cleaning up after their dogs, that patch of grass was a bacterial sponge.

Watson got giardia, twice. Giardia is an internal parasite that causes the host animal, Watson, to have uncontrollable diarrhea.  For some reason the sickness usually hit Watson in the middle of the night when he was in his crate which meant then he’d get it all over himself because there wasn’t anywhere else for him to lie down.

Johnny had to bathe him, blow dry him, and then take him to the vet—which was 35 miles south, here in Puyallup. After the second time, with a sick dog, a big mess and Johnny and Kit having jobs to go to, it was mom to the rescue. I drove up to Seattle. I took Watson to the vet and then home with me to take care of him.

Then we all just decided that it was better for Watson to stay with us in Puyallup until Johnny gets a bigger place. Here, Watson has more area to roam in both inside and out. He knows all our pets and has a grand old time with Kona running laps around the house and ramping off our couches. She’s about a year older than him and likes playing the role of big sister.

Kona and Watson relaxing.

Suzie, the old lady of the bunch, polices those two young whippersnappers when they get too wild, which is pretty funny since she tries to leap at them to nip them from her short little doxie legs. Everybody is adjusting including both of the cats, although Pippin is taking longer to get used to yet another dog. 

The first time I took Watson out for a walk in the neighborhood, he stopped in his tracks when we walked by a man mowing his lawn. Later he paused again when the wind blew through the fir trees and when a bird started trilling. He cocked his head and looked at me with questions in his eyes. I answered, “Welcome to suburbia Watson!”

As for Watson’s personality, that quiet, calm puppy fooled Johnny and Kit. If I had to describe him in one word, it would be exuberant! There are times when he resembles a pogo stick more than a dog and he gets close to hitting his head on the ceiling when he’s excited about going for a walk or to doggie day camp.  He and big sis Kona go three times a week to burn off some energy.

Watson and Kona sharing at PetSmart's Doggie Daycamp.

He always has a smile on his face and it’s nearly impossible to go anywhere without someone stopping to ask what kind of dog he is. True to his puppy personality, he’s still irresistible when he wants some affection and shows it by hugging you with his two front paws!

Laura Keolanui Stark is keeping up with her pack so far. She can be reached at stark.laura.k@gmail.com