Fall, 2011 -- Elf & Opus in the middle of garden projects, with tennis
By November the killing frosts had taken the tomato plants, so one afternoon I cut them all off, hauled them to the compost barrel, and chopped the thick vines into small pieces so they would rot down faster. Take up less space. Elf tagged along, pulling the vines away from where I was headed and ignoring dire warnings about tomato leaves being poisonous. Nightshades they are, after all. She and Opus chowed down on every shriveled green tomato that fell to the ground. I hoped we wouldn't be rushing to the Pet ER around midnight… No, Opus merely gave back a couple of tooth-punctured, but otherwise unaltered, green fruits and Elf never turned a hair. Umm, a fur.
All the leaves drifted off the mulberry tree in the back yard in a day, according to the long established pattern of mulberries. One day they're green above the brown ground, the next the ground is green below their bare, brown branches. You're lucky to see three or four yellow leaves on a mulberry tree -- they just don't have time to waste on gradual transformation. Opus, delighted with the leaf showers, darted about to examine each new arrival -- for a while. Then he stood, and finally sat still, swiveling his floppy-eared head to catch the action. Elf simply walked back and forth, rustling the leaves with her short corgi legs, hinting: "Aren't you forgetting that it's time for my tennis?" … Two days later when I began the labor of raking all those leaves into a leaf mould heap Opus plodded around looking for cat shadows through the fence while Elf excitedly leaped from one pile of leaves to the next. The moment I was done with the raking she raced to her tennis ball collection.
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October, 2011 started off cool, went to downright cold -- with a freeze warning -- pouring rain off and on for a week of the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta, clearing up to the normal, mainly sunny, warm days with nights in the 40s about the time the balloonists left town.
All of which means that -- besides feeling sorry for the balloon fiesta people -- several days were devoted to changing things around by all the windows, in order to bring in the outside tropical bonsai, cactus plants and ficus starts, a few herbs and a not-very-cold-hardy French lavender. Elf and Opus were free with antics and assistance alike. They alternated between trying to chew off any drooping branches as plants rode in on my lap from the back yard and leaving me alone while they explored changes outside and in.
Opus by my chair
after a busy day of varmint watching and dog tennis
You throw, Elf bops with nose, Elf chases, I catch, I drop, we wait for you to pick it up.
You throw again…
November 8 was the day the mulberry dropped most of its leaves. Opus spent the late afternoon observing them tumble around him while Elf tramped back and forth hoping to find a stray tennis ball.
Big purple tomato
Opus observing a tennis match. Tennis toss, tennis catch? Whatever.
Elf took a dim view of moving plants around. She got ONE DOZEN Penn tennis balls and a long handled, bright orange ball launcher (convenient for the human's participation in her favorite sport -- she's a thoughtful dog) and she darned well intended that these things get some use. Hence here she was, giving the photographer an impatient stare.
Elf and Opus watched a few matches of the US Open with me in August. Not long afterwards I noticed that she had developed a way of bouncing from leg to leg, up and down, up and down, while waiting for me to throw her tennis ball. Just like a pro, uh huh.
Gingko leaves at the end of the line… Late October
Hawaiian Umbrella Tree, recently shorn, with new growth. This dwarf schefflera has a way of turning into an octopus with a few leaves at the end of each long branch if you don't keep cutting it back.
This poor bumblebee was having a clumsy day. It nearly crashed into my hat before landing in this young desert willow tree, and was still hanging onto a leaf 90 minutes later, though it did wave its front legs at me. The cool weather may have been affecting it.
The pink flowers in the background are agastache, a sweet, pungent smelling plant that blooms for months and is a favorite with bees, hummingbirds, butterflies -- and Elf, who tries to catch them all.
Mindful of how last fall's cold killed one of my small cactus plants before I thought of bringing them indoors, I got them parked in this southern window this year. Just in time for the cold to quit and the warm days to be restored…
New ficus from the big clump, all of which have roots a few weeks after being stuck into pots of akadama.
Elf enjoys surprising us by popping up unexpectedly from behind this big hollow log. Opus likes to dance on top of it -- communing with cats on the other side of the fences.
Agastache, late October
These guys got a late start -- peppers, melon, tomatoes, all planted courtesy of seeds in compost. Too bad the cold will get them before they even start bearing fruit.
This ficus forest had a dramatic thinning when Jericha visited late in August. It went from a solid clump to a more graceful group of 18 inch trees. It's busy, filling in with leaves.
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A croton, a ficus and a Hawaiian Umbrella Tree
Bunch of green tomatoes on the kitchen table after a freeze scare. Three weeks later most were still green. Alongside the bottles of olive oil and vinegar stands a bonsai olive tree -- regrowing after a fierce, but needed, haircut in August.
Elf intersperses her clamors for tennis ball chasing with shoving her purple jolly ball around. She parked it nicely in the shade beneath tomato plants. This dog absolutely must have a job. Hard frost due any time now.
Opus likes to sit in the bay window by the calamondin tree, keeping an eye out for cats in the front yard. Dogs on the road. Neighbors in their yards. The postal carrier. Birds. Wind. Leaves blowing. Then he falls asleep.
Why am I making the tomatoes so big? Perhaps it's a bit of mourning for the end of the garden season. We had a late freeze in May that killed a lot of things. These tomato plants got a really late start, so how fair is it that fall's first freeze was early? Well -- there's always next year to look forward to. And, meantime, pooch tennis. Life is good.
