Moles, Voles, Yellow Jackets, and Daffodills

Several years ago I read "The Daffodil Principle" by Margi Harrell and was inspired to create my own Daffodil Hill.

There's a 15-foot long slope at the front of my yard topped by a couple of big oak trees.  This slope was the home of a colony of moles and voles.  They kept the soil plowed and soft.  This wouldn't have been so bad except that Yellow Jackets loved the readymade home the mole runs made. Let me share information on this cast of lawn characters.  

First, moles: small, carnivorous, burrowing animals with a great sense of smell but poor eyesight.  They burrow through the soil in search of grubs and earthworms. They could hardly care less about any plants disturbed in the process.

Voles: a small rodent, similar to a mouse.  It has a short tail and a voracious appetite for the roots of hostas, gladiolas, day lilies and just about anything else you'd like to produce nice summer flowers. They also have a talent for burrowing under ripening strawberries so they can have a catered feast without leaving the comfort of their burrow.  They appreciate the muscle provided by the bulkier moles in tunneling.  It makes their life much easier having all that work already done for them.

Yellow Jackets: a predatory wasp with a strong territorial instinct. They are a cheerful yellow and black or dark brown striped. Abandoned mole and vole tunnels make a super habitat for their broods.

Why are the tunnels abandoned? Just ask my son. He was mowing the yard one day and passed over the yellow jackets' tunnel one time to many. Remember I mentioned they are territorial? He cleared the seat of the mower in a single leap, stumbled, rolled, and then ran for the house. I wasn't sure I wanted whatever was obviously following him inside but I couldn't justify locking him and it/them out. He'd been stung several times despite his haste. Would you have any desire to share quarters with such a cranky neighbor?  If you see cheerful little wasps flying close to a small hole in the ground, turn and walk very quietly in the opposite direction.

I needed a way to get rid of the annual yellow jacket nests in my front yard. I could hunt down individual nests and poison them with some risk of becoming a target for their territorial ire.  I did that once or twice.  Yeah, not a favorite choice. I could stop the moles by killing individuals with traps and poisons.  There are lots of methods for that and I've not seen many short of hiring a Siberian Husky to dig them out that's particularly effective.  You can spread poison on the lawn to kill the moles' food supply.  Effective, but it kills everything and leaves you with a dearth of beneficial invertebrates.

This is where the daffodils come in.  These little bursts of late winter sunshine are poisonous.  The roots, bulbs, stems and blossoms are all toxic to man and beast including voles and moles.  Moles don't like to tunnel through areas with lots of daffodils because of this.  Voles won't dig new tunnels or chew through a cluster of daffodil bulbs.  No tunnels, no yellow jackets.  See?  Perfectly logical.

Each November I stand out on my hill with a shovel and a couple of bags of daffodil bulbs, a-la the Daffodil Principle. I pick a section of my hill and toss the bulbs out to create some semblance of natural, random placement.  Where ever the bulb lands is where I plant it. I've been planting between 100 and 200 bulbs each year for about 7 years.

I could have planted them all at once but it would have been daunting and expensive.  By tackling this project over time, I've been able to spread out the work and expense.  I've been able to take advantage of shared, pass-along bulbs a couple of times to add to my project.

That's part of the lesson of the Daffodil Principle.  Tackle the seemingly, impossibly large projects and goals one little bit at a time. You'll be better prepared to take advantage of surprise opportunities to advance.  You'll be amazed at what you can accomplish... one bulb at a time.

Christmas Bells

Christmas Bells, I've heard this carol for as long as I can remember. I love the last stanza of this poem. Mr. Longfellow had been through a horrible time. His wife had died. His son was injured in the war. I can only imagine the depths of despair he felt. The grief, the loneliness, the anguish. Yet, he still found a glimmer of hope in the promise of Christmas. It is Christmas, not New Year’s Day that offers the promise of a new beginning and something better.

Friends, enjoy your Christmas celebration. Offer kind consideration and prayers for our soldiers, law enforcement officers, and fire fighters who willingly risk so much on our behalf. Take a little time to reflect on the past year and to create your own Christmas-of-heart. Each worthy goal achieved, each act of kindness given places us closer to a better world.

Christmas Bells

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1864)

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
    And wild and sweet
    The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
    Had rolled along
    The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
    A voice, a chime,
    A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
    And with the sound
    The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
    And made forlorn
    The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
“There is no peace on earth,” I said;
    “For hate is strong,
    And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
    The Wrong shall fail,
    The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men.”

Almost-itis

Have you ever noticed how people seem to get a case of almost-itis as they get near to reaching their goals?  Ask a local Scoutmaster how many Life Scouts he's seen stall in their progress when they're just a few months away from earning their Eagle Scout rank.  I'll bet he'll have stories to tell about several promising boys who never made it.  

I've seen it in my own children; homework almost complete, toys almost all put away, and projects almost completed.  I can see it in my own projects. We knitters call them WIPs, Works in Progress.   I periodically get reminded about a certain sweater vest that's just about achieved perpetual WIP status.  It's not my oldest almost-itis project. 

 

Way back in 1985 when I was living in Germany, I started a sweater for my husband. Foolish novice that I was, I didn’t have a clue that I was in over my head. The pattern was written for a knitting machine and I needed to hand knit it. I'd never knitted anything remotely as large or as complex. I was a bit too slow and we moved back to the States before I was done. I was heartbroken when I realized I didn’t have enough yarn to finish the last sleeve, but I was too far along to give up. I’d get the carcass pieces out a couple of times a year, wonder what to do, and shove them back into the bag.

 

In the late winter of 2006 a dear friend encouraged me and helped me find yarn to finish the sweater. It was a classic first sweater in that it didn’t really fit the intended wearer even though he kindly wore it once in public anyway. I learned so much on that project, both about knitting and about myself.

 

I'm dealing with almost-itis in my weight loss goal. I've stalled at 19 pounds lost with just 1 pound to go.  The stall is my own fault.  I've done the exercise I should but I've also celebrated a little too early.  Eating that extra slice of bread with butter, eating the offered cookie or two, or an extra bite of pie has put the "almost there" stall on my goal. 

I need to reclaim my resolve and self-discipline. When I persevere past the almost-itis stage there's such a sense of accomplishment. It's energizing and empowering.

Temptations

I've held up pretty well against the food temptations over the past 10 weeks, that is, until this past week.  This week was one of those weeks of holiday celebrations designed to test my resolve to eat well and remain within my limits.  First there was the annual Christmas potluck and awards meeting of the "We-love-to-grow-plants-and-eat-them" folks. These folks can put out a spread of foods ranging from gourmet fare to good old home cooking that's a delight to see and taste. I had a cohort at this event.  We both boosted our resolve with a couple of nice, healthy green salads.  If you put enough salad on your plate, there's not a lot of room for too many heavy foods.  A bite of this and a taste of that and you're good.

The second pot luck meeting/party was harder.  The food was just as tempting and tasty.  I was being so good right up until my sweetheart sat down beside me with pecan pie.  Now, mind you, I'd avoided even looking at the desert table at both functions.  I have a weakness for a good pecan pie. One little nibble told me this one was excellent. It had plump, fresh pecans toasted to perfection in their bed of luscious, buttery pie filling. 

I managed to stop at just two or three bites but the sweet deliciousness haunted me.  I made it home and even resisted temptation for a couple of hours.   First I realized there were just two small, lonely croissants left in the bread basket.  Those are so good warmed with a little butter.   I couldn't let them go to waste and I was the only one home to save them from a pitiful demise as stale bread.  Then I remembered there were cookies in the cookie jar.  Vanilla Oreos don't hold a candle to a good pecan pie but nonetheless, 4 found their way into my hand.  They were gone very quickly. 

I realized what I'd done and wondered if I'd undone too much of a weeks' hard work.  We'll see as I watch for pound #20 to disappear this week.  If it hangs around, I have no one to blame but myself.

I've dealt with another temptation this week that, for me, is more serious in nature.  I love books.  I still love being read to like a little child.  Audio books allow me to indulge in both those pleasures.  I was at a point where I'm between between book series and was looking for something new.  I found a series that is both long and interesting.  There's just one problem with it.  It's raunchy.

I've got a policy that if an entertainment isn't fit for my children it's probably not good enough for me either.  I endured through the first book and got interested in the story line. It's a good, compelling story. I thought surely the author would back off a bit and let the story tell itself in the second book.  Sadly, that's wasn't the case.  One of the characters was even more foul-mouthed in the second book.  I found myself being fearful that my boys might accidentally hear one of the expletive laced passages and ashamed of myself for listening.

 

Enough!  I've deleted the book. There are too many good books out there to allow my mind to be cluttered with the guilt and dirt.

Looking for a New Attitude

Do you ever have a week that just seems to suck the will out of you?  I've had one of those.  Little challenges just piled on top of each other until my resolve slowed to a crawl. I was able to get through the necessary activities and chores.  All the optional items on my to-do list went by the wayside. I'm feeling some renewed energy today.  It's amazing what a little service project can do for your attitude.

I took the opportunity to help support the 11th Annual St. Jude Marathon this weekend.  The race-day morning was beautiful.  The aid station volunteers were enthusiastic. The neighborhood residents were supportive. The runners were inspiring. One participant passed my mile 22 aid station pushing his own wheel chair with vigor. I spotted 3 runners pushing wheelchairs with riders. One visually impaired runner passed by tethered to his guide.  I'm amazed at the love and commitment it takes to help someone reach their goal by partnering with them to such a degree.  Sometimes one needs to step outside onself to find a little deeper strength.

I'm ready to kick myself back in gear. Perhaps it's partly my rebellious nature finally exerting itself again.

Try an experiment for me.  Sit in a chair with your feet flat on the floor.  Try to lift your right foot.  Now, try it with your left.  What happens?  When I try this with my right foot, my foot lifts off the floor easily.  My left foot barely moves.  It's one of the gifts given me courtesy of osteoarthritis.  I'm calling it a gift because it's giving me an opportunity to learn more about the disease process of osteoarthritis. 

There are so many articles to read and so many of them are just rehashing the same basic information.  Where's the good stuff?  I need to find something between the simple introductory information and medical school-level information.  Surely I'm not the only patient who wants to take control of their health care in a meaningful way. More research is required.  Bring it on! I'm not ready to give up yet.

From Ulysses by Lord Alfred Tennyson

 

"...Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'

  We are not now that strength which in old days

  Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;

  One equal temper of heroic hearts,

  Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

  To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."