don't ask questions...

every life has a nemesis, and this is (one of) mine.

i can hear you wondering what kind of lunatic has a plant as a foe. me... that's who!

this is a leaf of the American Linden tree [Tilia americana... if you need the too-much-information version of the thing]. it is commonly used as a street/park tree in the Eastern half of Canada and the States... which is were my problem begins.

Lindens grow to be lovely, large trees that provide much-needed shade in urban areas. they bloom early in the Summer, sending out waves of jasmine-scented joy. who could be mad about that, right? me... that's who!

the pollen from this tree is near the top of the (ever-expanding) list of things that Nature seems to produce just to drive me nuts, and they were in full bloom this past week. my allergic reaction to all that pollen is so bad, i avoid entire areas of the city in early Summer.

we were walking in one of the lovely parks along the riverside one day last Summer, when i stopped suddenly and took a slow, panning, three-sixty look at my surroundings.

me: every single one of these trees here is a Linden.

so now i steer clear of that whole side of town when the Lindens are in bloom. not that doing so would make any real difference, because... naturally... there is a gigantic Linden directly across the street from our building, and a few more down the block. they are on every single block in our neighborhood, and there is also a park full of them just a street away. i would probably have to move to the West Coast to get away from the cursed things, but there is probably some other form of Nature waiting there for me. good times. 

you can easily identify a Linden in the wild... or—in this case—in the middle of my living room. [full disclosure: i took these photos last Summer, following a stormy night that left tree bits scattered all over the street. the Lindens had already bloomed, and they were starting to fruit at that point.]

they have asymmetrical, heart-shaped leaves.

they also have elongated, leaf-like bracts located about halfway between the true leaves and the clusters of tiny white flowers that later become small, spherical, seed-bearing fruit.

the clusters of the flowers/fruit usually dangle from the tree like this, and the leaves and fruit/seeds are supposedly edible... that is, according to borderline-lunatic survivalist types on the interwebs.

now, it should be noted that i only really hate this plant for a specific period of time out of the year. they are an otherwise welcomed bit of texture in a landscape that is mostly dominated by maple trees. plus, they are also a major source of nectar for bees, so all of my suffering will be rewarded later with delicious local honey.

speaking of which...

i had a thoroughly depressing experience recently that began with a bumblebee and ended with accepting that some things in life are best left unknown.

if you were here last Summer, you might recall my fascination with a fat little bumble bee. there was only ever one bee at a time hanging around, so i assumed it was the same one who kept coming back to my little garden. and, no... i did not attempt to hug him or pet him or squeeze him, but i did i name him George. so, i was extra-excited to see a fat bumble bee buzzing around the balcony one particularly grim afternoon [this was a couple-few days before we planted this year's garden.]

me: it has to be George. look how he's buzzing around the containers.
him: but they're covered.
me: i know, but it's like he knows they should be filled with plants. it's like he's been here before.
him: maybe it is George.
me: hmm... now i'm not sure. just how long does a bumble bee live?

that is where everything went sideways.

i tried to ignore that nagging question—especially, as i have a tendency to go from 'mildly curious' to 'way too much information' with very little provocation. still, curiosity was getting the best of me, so i made the horrible decision to ask the Internets.

i will give you the shortest version i can manage.

so...

in Spring, a Queen bumble bee emerges from her Winter hidey-hole, and goes searching for a place to make a hive. she lays some eggs, which develop into female worker bees, and they all work together to build a nest and forage for pollen and nectar to stock it with food.

sounds simple so far.

the Queen's efforts now turn to laying eggs that will become male bees and fertile future-Queens. these... uhm... libidinous young ones fly off to meet-and-mate... and that is where the story ends... sorta.

Summer is usually ending by this point, so each of these... uhm... enceinte future-Queens digs herself into a hole and goes into hibernation for the Winter...

and everybody else DIES!

me: so, that is definitely not my George. so. much. sadness.

then i just sulked for a while.

him: why are you so upset about a bee?
me: it was a metaphor for life. and now it's gone.
him: so now you have a new bumble bee.
me: it's not the same.

then i sulked some more.

i am assuming that the new fat bee bumbling around the balcony garden project this early in the season is probably a female... maybe even a foraging Queen.

and, yes... i will still call her George.

and the proverb of this pointless tale is a simple one: don't ask questions!

Jultember: speaking of strawberries...

so... what does one do after being run out of the park by a swarm of insects?

that was the question we kept asking ourselves (once we caught our collective breath from laughing like lunatics at said predicament). the rain was subsiding, but we were not going to risk visiting another park just yet.

so we drove to the opposite end of town, and spent a bit of time walking through Marché Jean-Talon. we went in with the intent of getting some corn to cook on the grill for that evening's meal. naturally, we could not pass up the many containers of locally-sourced strawberries calling to us from just about every produce seller's booth.

sane people would have probably stopped at a pint or two, but we reject being categorized as such, so we got a whole flat.

him: don't we have an unopened jar of Nutella at home?
me:  we do indeed.

what could possibly go wrong?

when did this become a thing...

the pack of post-it notes shaped like a Nutella jar? they really do not need to bribe me with trinkets to get my money. i was already hooked at 'chocolate in a jar'.

i take special delight in popping the seal. the therapists out there will probably have something to say about said fact.

what more could anyone possibly want out of life?

seriously... that first dip is magical. talk amongst yourself for a bit. i have more pressing things to see to at the moment.

speaking of strawberries...

i decided to keep the trough of strawberries indoors when the other plants were returned to the balcony. these plants have been a source of extreme frustration, as they seem to be the squirrel's favorite target for spiteful destruction.

this was my first time growing strawberries, and i was genuinely surprised at how well they progressed from the two small plants i began with just a couple months ago.

we wrapped the whole thing in chicken wire in hopes of thwarting the squirrel, but he still managed to nibble the fruit-producing bits off of the plants.

i did not want to put the trough back outside to continue to be frustrated by more of the same, so it will remain indoors for the rest of the season. naturally, this means that the chicken wire is no longer necessary.

hello, future strawberries.

i have been using a feather (dropped from a goose at a park) to brush the flowers every day. hopefully that will be enough to facilitate any necessary pollination. if that does not work, i will have to convince George the Bumblebee to spend a bit of time indoors when he is on his daily rounds.

now we wait.

Jultember: bumblebee turf wars...

the up-side to insomnia is that i get to catch part of the day that i would otherwise sleep right through. i fed the cats and made myself a large cup of coffee then grabbed my camera to spend a bit of time out on the balcony before the daily drone of traffic commenced.

we live a stone's throw away from the local highway, and the main street that leads into the heart of downtown Montreal is right at the top of our block. as a result, the soundscape of most days is dominated by the not-too-distant sound of passing cars.

but it was still that quiet part of the morning, and i fully intended to enjoy it while it lasted. why do i look like i am about to rob a bank, you ask? allergies, i reply.

this meant having to remove said barrier and hold my breath every time i took a sip. hello.

we have arrived at the point in the season where one small phrase fills me with dread most days. high winds!

the middle of Canada is a vast, flat expanse in which you will find the occasional farm or a field full of grazing cows. what you will find the most of, however, is lots and lots and lots of weeds. [it should be noted that while i have never been to the Canadian prairies, i have seen every single episode of Corner Gas at least twice, so i feel fully qualified to make that statement.]

it is ragweed allergy season, and there is not a single mountain or even a tall hill between me and all of that histamine-inducing pollen blowing in from the prairies. and, no... i do not go out into the world looking like that, but it sometimes helps to have a filter between me and the world while waiting for my antihistamines to kick in. good times. i have a proper face mask for said purpose, but i seem to have lost sight of it in the reshuffling of furniture to make room for the plants.

speaking of which...

i am happy to say that the balcony garden project has returned to its intended setting.
 

i mostly stood by and watched while he lugged one ten-gallon container after another back through the sliding glass doors, and i am happy to report that there was only one injury. his toenail will regrow... eventually... i hope.

naturally, i was out there spraying everything with my homemade peppery concoction long before the squirrels got out of bed this morning. Baby Bear was most not pleased with said fact, as she kept shooting me dirty looks after she took a nibble at the ferns.

i just carried on taking sips of coffee in between trying to figure out how repair the (non-functioning) auto-focus feature on my go-to lens. there is a story in there somewhere, which i will save for some other day when i am done being frustrated with myself for that one.

it was then that i noticed that the Little One staring at something with a definite about-to-attack gleam in her eye.

it was a cute, fat bumblebee. here he is crawling into a snapdragon. so cute.

there is one solitary bee that seems to spend most of the sunlit part of the day going back and forth between all the flowering things out there, and i would like to think that it is the same one i see every time.

i can just imagine the adorable bumblebee turf wars as they decide who gets what territory, and i would like to think that he fought hard to claim my tiny garden as his zone. hopefully the other bees did not give him a hard time for not making his quota on the days when the plants were indoors.

oh... and i am calling him George. so cute. 

dragons can be quirky....

i woke up this morning and pulled open the curtains, only to confirm that we were at the start of yet another week of cold, grey, overcast misery. then something amazing happened, and i do not mean the cup of coffee that i actually remembered (for once) to drink before it went cold.

me: there is a big, fat bumblebee with his head shoved down the mouth of a snapdragon. i am smiling very hard. 
him: nice.

the snapdragon is one of the few flowering plants that i usually do not mind tucking into the empty nooks of a vegetable garden. zinnias and bunching sunflowers—the kind with clusters of small flower heads that can be used as cut-flowers—also share the rare distinction of being endorsed by me. in fact, there is a variety of sunflowers called "velvet queen" that ranks incredibly high on my list of favorite things. trust me... things have zero value until they land on said list.

where was i again? oh, yes... snapdragons.

not only are they pleasant to look at, these flowers are also an excellent source of pollen for the bee population, hence the early-morning visit on this waiting-to-rain kind of day. that spray of yellow dust is pollen, which means that the bumblebee probably paid this flower a visit while i was still fast asleep.

snapdragons are a common sight in Summer gardens, mainly because they are such an attractive and interesting plant. they are also super-easy to care for, and extremely low-maintenance. it is the perfect accent plant for the lazy human being.

the flowers come in almost every color, except blue... because that would make me too happy. they grow clustered in stalks and the flowers open in succession from the base the tip. this variety has rather short stalks—laugh if you must—but you can see that the flowers at the bottom of the cluster are already withering, while the ones at the top look freshly-opened.

[random aside: you see the same pattern of blooming in the gladiolas that florists try to sneak into every floral arrangement ever made. i am convinced that the tradition of the dozen roses was started by someone who was trying to convince a florist to put down the gladiola for Pete's sake.]

where was i? oh, yes... 

snapdragons earn their names from two things... their appearance and a peculiar quirk that they share. bet you never knew that dragons can be quirky.

the flowers bear a resemblance to a dragon's head. yes, i know... the dragons probably look a bit different where you live. check out that profile. it definitely looks dragon-ish.

as for the other part... when you place a finger on either side of the flower and press lightly—as though you were squeezing someone's face by their cheeks—the center of the flower pops open to reveal the mighty "mouth" of this ferocious beast. i especially like the way this looks with the darker-colored flowers where the pollen-coated inner bits (yes... i do know they are called stamen) look like teeth. admit it... you are shivering with fear.

methinks this dragon needs a tube of toothpaste.

where is the snap, you ask? just squeeze to open...
 

and when you release the flower, it snaps shut again. SNAP!!!

think of it as a cheap magic trick with Mother Nature providing the only prop you will need. yes.... i am easily amused. most of all, it amuses me to know that the bees have already found my garden, so they should be around when my tomatoes and peppers start flowering... which will happen if the sun ever shines again.

then my mind started wandering, which is always a dangerous thing.

me: when we get through the Marvel movies, can we watch the Transformers movies next? i love that cartoon. 
him: the Michael Bay ones? no way. they are an atrocity.
me: come on. i want to watch Bumblebee—which he did not direct—but OCD requires me to watch the rest of them first. 
him: we can try, but i bet you give up halfway through the first one.
me: that is why beer was invented.
him: uh huh.

so now i will be subjecting us both to a series of bad movies, all because of one pollen-plundering bumblebee. luckily, i have set myself on a beer-sampling adventure, so that should provide any necessary buffer on those bad-movie evenings... but i will talk about that bit of absurdity some other day.

** i am editing this to add that we ended up watching Transformers later in the day. it was disappointing, but that is usually the case when revisiting the happy things we remember from our childhood. best part was, i got through it without resorting to beer. we did, however, have to pause a whole lot to engage in mini-rants about things we found infuriating (seriously... what reason would the military guys have for putting their trust in the Autobots when their only experience with the Transformers involved them nearly getting killed in the middle of the desert? and how do you have the main bad guy show up with like forty minutes left to go in a move that was almost two-and-a-half hours long???). the cats slept on undisturbed through the whole thing, as they are used to that kind of nonsense from us. a good time was had by all.**