The Slug Diaries

This morning, feeling sluggish because I had no reason to be otherwise, I stayed in bed until the last minute.

Then the piano student for whom I had arisen was a no-show.

So I meandered lazily onto the deck and decided to check on the size of my tomatoes.

Now, we have had a very cold and wet spring and summer in Oregon so far, as I have already mentioned. I am convinced that everything in my garden is going to ripen while Jeff and I are in England in late September. So, I figure a little positive reinforcement from moi cannot do any harm.

As I descended the single stair of the deck, I noticed the pile of sunflower seeds that are making a big mess beneath Jeff's bird feeders.

Self, I said to myself, you must remember to give Jeff a niggle about that tonight.

See, I try not to nag, so I niggle instead!

These are the biggest specimens so far and I gave them a pep talk.

Grow, little tomatoes, grow. 

Show your brothers and sisters how to do it.

Sadly, the other tomato plants are sporting only a few little runts like this.

I am happy to report that this plant, which is in the pot by the deck, has stopped dropping its flowers and is finally producing babies.

Come on, baby, grow. You can do it!

I took a peek at the grapes, which we pruned harshly this year. We had a bumper crop last year that was so sour I have to add as much sugar to the juice as is called for in Koolaid. Yuck! I thought it was because I had let them overproduce, but further research gave me the answer. I had pruned the excess growth off the vines quite religiously throughout the summer. Last summer was fairly cool too, so I thought it would allow the grapes to catch more sun and also get more nutrients from the roots.

WRONG!

Pruning the foliage had deprived the fruit of the energy they receive from photosynthesis. Thus, they did not get sweet. Boy, did I feel foolish when I figured it out!

I will make no such mistake again. Ever.

They are looking promising.

As I was standing by the crocosmia/nasturtium bed, a hummingbird flew up and started feasting on the nectar from the blossoms. The wee thing was only two feet away from me, so I stood stock-still, ruing the fact that I didn't have my camera in my hand. 

So there we were, me, motionless, and little hummingbird, flitting in and out of the flowers, perching on a crocosmia stalk with his tiny tongue flicking in and out of his beak, then back to harvesting, off to a grape vine for another rest, and finally, over the fence.

I was enraptured.

For this, I fill my garden with nectared flowers that might entice hummingbirds, and this year it seems I have succeeded. Almost every time we look outside there is one hovering at the penstemon or perching in the crepe myrtle. I never knew how much hummingbirds sat!

I reluctantly left the veggie garden and almost stepped on this little guy.

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

I stood ever so still.

He kept eating the sunflower seeds.

I skirted my way around the edge of the lawn and crept into the house to get my camera.

He eyed me cautiously but kept on eating.

I took a picture and was glad that something was eating the other-wise wasted seed.

Then Jeff came home and told me it's probable that the little blighter is the one who tipped all the seed onto the ground.

And I felt less empathetic towards the squirrel.