I am certainly grateful for my life at the moment. The world is going nuts, with extreme havoc being wreaked for the pettiest of reasons. Sometimes I can’t believe what is happening, even just outside my gates. Inside, though, I garden away. Sometimes I think that’s the best thing to do.
Here is Jacques, just outside the wall, playing Tiananmen. The dozer, when it did move, went in the opposite direction, fortunately.
They are putting curbs along my little country lane. For the moment they stop at my property line, but for how long? And why are they going in in the first place? Julien tells me sometimes projects happen simply because money is available.
The news in Vendee is that the ground water is becoming depleted. This can happen because of drought. It can also happen because of urbanization. The subdivision just outside my walls is a fine example of this. The houses are required to channel rainwater runoff to the street. Thus the curbs, which channel the water to who knows where, probably the ocean. Needless to say, if the water is conducted entirely along paved surfaces, it is not sinking into the ground. So this ground water issue is largely of man-made origin.
I have an old house. I drain nothing to the street. The water that is channeled away from the house goes into an old well, the better to feed the water table. The neighbors don’t have that option and probably have not gone to the trouble to disconnect drain lines, to send the water to gravel sinkholes. As the countryside becomes suburbanized, things will only get worse.
As you can see, summer is happening. I think I may have been expected to thin those tomato plants, but I am still too amazed that things just grow here. This never happened in California. Maybe I’ll get around to it.
Right now I’m too busy weeding. I have begun to tackle the briar patch. Just this morning, the mess in there was quite dramatically brought to my attention.
Last night being quite warm, we slept with the windows open. At 6 AM, Jacques’ small but mighty nose and ears detected a cat invasion. Last night he got into it with a barn owl. I went out to find the two of them barking at each other. Who knew barn owls made noise? This morning, Comète, from across the street, caught the attention of my little protector. When I went out, Jacques had Comète pinned in the briar patch, snarling and spitting, but basically too afraid to move. I finally got Jacques on the side opposite the gate and the little sport killer made a run for it. I guess Comète decided it wasn’t so fun being on the prey side of the sport, because he didn’t stop. His owner came by later in the morning, asking about him. Well, when Comète finally returns home, I hope he spreads the word about the killer Westie down the street. Cats are another thing I want outside my walls.
It’s a cruel world out there. We are destroying the planet. We are forcibly displacing millions of people and harassing them when they become refugees. We rip children from their mothers’ arms, simply for political gain. Torture and human trafficking are bigger than ever, at least in my lifetime. It’s not that I do nothing about it, but any of those things seem proportionately so little. So I’ll deadhead roses and protect the lizards from the cats. Inside the walls — don’t say Maginot Line in this house, okay? –it’s safe. It’s a start.