|
|
 |
Friday
March 19, 2010 Since 1922 |
Reader writes of her own post-Ike malaise
By Jane Howard Lee
Contributor Published September 3, 2009 Recently I wrote a column about my inability to make a serious effort to restore my backyard to its pre-Hurricane Ike condition. We have done little more than mow and run the weed whacker around. There is still a stack of outdoor furniture piled in the garage, where we stored it just before the storm hit. Nearby are most of the wind chimes and other tacky yard art that we put away so that the hurricane winds wouldn’t sling them into our windows or our heads. The signs of my failure to get over Ike can be seen in the flowerbeds, which I just haven’t had the heart to try to restore. Dead plants and live weeds decorate some of my flower pots.
I called my condition Post-Ike Malaise. One of my readers liked the term so much she wrote me a letter. I asked Beth Peterson if I could share it with you and she agreed. I think she is quite a good writer.
Post-Ike Malaise! My (adult) daughter and I are so happy that you have put a name to it. We often wondered what was the matter as we made feeble attempts to find our beloved daylilies in the weeds and grass that have filled our planters. We are heartsick over the loss of trees and trying to adjust to sunlight where there used to be cool dappled shade. One lovely tri-trunked tree in front of the house - with the sidewalk gently curved to meander around it, is now a bi-trunked tree, leaning ominously over the sidewalk. The tree guys said to take it out. We just couldn’t. Even the carpenter wasps are gone from the old, old cedar tree which lost several major branches and has some ripped up, gnarled areas that look like one of those bare Halloween trees you see in pictures. We actually miss being attacked by those wasps as we pass the tree.
We too have a fondness for “tasteful” tacky yard art. Our collection is mostly frogs which sat majestically amongst the daylilies, agapanthus, and ferns, and graced the natural pond where we kept track of the antics of a number of real frogs. Sometime after the Fourth of July, my husband brought all the yard stuff out of the garage and asked if we were ever going to put it back. I don’t think I answered, but after a few weeks he put the frogs amongst the weeds and other places of his choosing. I didn’t know he even liked the frogs that much.
(NOTE FROM JANE LEE: HER HUSBAND PROBABLY JUST WANTED HIS GARAGE SPACE BACK. I KNOW MINE DOES.)
We love our little pond. The water lilies are beautiful this year. The frogs/toads have disappeared recently, but we did have a family of four small black and yellow snakes living there. A few weeks ago, we noticed the pond was again filled with tadpoles. The frogs must be around somewhere. Maybe they didn’t like the little snakes. This pond is a little ecological system of its own. Snakes gotta eat too. We have only seen one tree frog this year. Last year we had around twenty every night hanging around the porch. We leave the porch lights on because the frogs liked to feast on the bugs attracted by the lights.
This is our front yard. Our back yard is Trinity Bay. During the hurricane, the entire lower part of our yard was covered with salt water. It came just to the top of the hill where our house sits. The sight was terrifying. We cleaned up the debris from the bay, but the entire 200 feet along the bulkhead and up to the hill was/is covered with sand and seashells. With the drought, the once beautiful lawn that swept down to the bay has not recovered. Our pier is gone. We had a banana tree that had to be at least 15 feet high on the edge of the bulkhead. That tree had three huge bunches of bananas. They were beautiful! I still wish I had at least picked the bunches of bananas.
I’m sorry if my writing to you sounds like whining! I have not whined to
anyone - even my husband and daughter - about this. How could I when so many people were suffering so much the loss of their homes? Their lives were in chaos. Our house was fine. I think that I just don’t trust putting it all back together again.
Like yours, our hibiscus are taller and blooming more than they ever have. I have not even watered them this summer. Usually I baby them and spray the aphids with soapy stuff. I haven’t looked, but I don’t think there are even aphids on them this year.
I was pretty happy to see about a dozen baby cardinals at our feeders a few weeks ago. More than I’ve ever seen before. They frolic in the puddles we make for them on the sidewalk. I’m sure the drought is hard on the wildlife as well as the plants and trees.
Your term “malaise” is perfect. There’s just this lingering fear that it will all happen over again. Your column really hit home with me. Thanks for putting it all in words. I’m thinking next spring I’ll get to those weeds.
Maybe I will too, Beth.
Jane Howard Lee is a reporter for The Baytown Sun.
Contributor Published September 3, 2009 Recently I wrote a column about my inability to make a serious effort to restore my backyard to its pre-Hurricane Ike condition. We have done little more than mow and run the weed whacker around. There is still a stack of outdoor furniture piled in the garage, where we stored it just before the storm hit. Nearby are most of the wind chimes and other tacky yard art that we put away so that the hurricane winds wouldn’t sling them into our windows or our heads. The signs of my failure to get over Ike can be seen in the flowerbeds, which I just haven’t had the heart to try to restore. Dead plants and live weeds decorate some of my flower pots.
I called my condition Post-Ike Malaise. One of my readers liked the term so much she wrote me a letter. I asked Beth Peterson if I could share it with you and she agreed. I think she is quite a good writer.
Post-Ike Malaise! My (adult) daughter and I are so happy that you have put a name to it. We often wondered what was the matter as we made feeble attempts to find our beloved daylilies in the weeds and grass that have filled our planters. We are heartsick over the loss of trees and trying to adjust to sunlight where there used to be cool dappled shade. One lovely tri-trunked tree in front of the house - with the sidewalk gently curved to meander around it, is now a bi-trunked tree, leaning ominously over the sidewalk. The tree guys said to take it out. We just couldn’t. Even the carpenter wasps are gone from the old, old cedar tree which lost several major branches and has some ripped up, gnarled areas that look like one of those bare Halloween trees you see in pictures. We actually miss being attacked by those wasps as we pass the tree.
We too have a fondness for “tasteful” tacky yard art. Our collection is mostly frogs which sat majestically amongst the daylilies, agapanthus, and ferns, and graced the natural pond where we kept track of the antics of a number of real frogs. Sometime after the Fourth of July, my husband brought all the yard stuff out of the garage and asked if we were ever going to put it back. I don’t think I answered, but after a few weeks he put the frogs amongst the weeds and other places of his choosing. I didn’t know he even liked the frogs that much.
(NOTE FROM JANE LEE: HER HUSBAND PROBABLY JUST WANTED HIS GARAGE SPACE BACK. I KNOW MINE DOES.)
We love our little pond. The water lilies are beautiful this year. The frogs/toads have disappeared recently, but we did have a family of four small black and yellow snakes living there. A few weeks ago, we noticed the pond was again filled with tadpoles. The frogs must be around somewhere. Maybe they didn’t like the little snakes. This pond is a little ecological system of its own. Snakes gotta eat too. We have only seen one tree frog this year. Last year we had around twenty every night hanging around the porch. We leave the porch lights on because the frogs liked to feast on the bugs attracted by the lights.
This is our front yard. Our back yard is Trinity Bay. During the hurricane, the entire lower part of our yard was covered with salt water. It came just to the top of the hill where our house sits. The sight was terrifying. We cleaned up the debris from the bay, but the entire 200 feet along the bulkhead and up to the hill was/is covered with sand and seashells. With the drought, the once beautiful lawn that swept down to the bay has not recovered. Our pier is gone. We had a banana tree that had to be at least 15 feet high on the edge of the bulkhead. That tree had three huge bunches of bananas. They were beautiful! I still wish I had at least picked the bunches of bananas.
I’m sorry if my writing to you sounds like whining! I have not whined to
anyone - even my husband and daughter - about this. How could I when so many people were suffering so much the loss of their homes? Their lives were in chaos. Our house was fine. I think that I just don’t trust putting it all back together again.
Like yours, our hibiscus are taller and blooming more than they ever have. I have not even watered them this summer. Usually I baby them and spray the aphids with soapy stuff. I haven’t looked, but I don’t think there are even aphids on them this year.
I was pretty happy to see about a dozen baby cardinals at our feeders a few weeks ago. More than I’ve ever seen before. They frolic in the puddles we make for them on the sidewalk. I’m sure the drought is hard on the wildlife as well as the plants and trees.
Your term “malaise” is perfect. There’s just this lingering fear that it will all happen over again. Your column really hit home with me. Thanks for putting it all in words. I’m thinking next spring I’ll get to those weeds.
Maybe I will too, Beth.
Jane Howard Lee is a reporter for The Baytown Sun.