I pulled the red and white notice off the door of my Heights house with a sigh. We would be fined within days if the lawn continued un-mowed, if the landscaping wasn’t trimmed back. The Ex and I (mostly the Ex) had been in a slow war with the code enforcement officer in the Heights most of the time that we lived there. Our fence was the first infraction–built on a corner lot and requiring signatures of all the neighbors and a hearing at city hall to build–but from then on the inspector took every opportunity to cite us, and the Ex took every opportunity to provoke him. We learned after the fence incident that bribes were the usual way of dealing with his red and white citations, and it seemed that forcing the issue with the city had been something of an embarrassment to him when all the council members immediately approved our “beautiful fence.”
Don’t let him fool you. This is a guilty face. This is the face of a culprit. (Admittedly, a very cute culprit…)
Gabby and I had just finished up evening chores, and I decided, probably against my own better judgment, to check on my garden. (You see, no one was weeding it while we were gone in Orlando, so, while I’ve made a valiant effort to beat back the weeds from the veggies, there are unplanted sections with weeds that are waist high.) I think I was about halfway out when I realized something was amiss.
To get to my garden, you have to walk through several pastures. (It actually used to be a pasture itself, but has since been converted.) At first, I just thought that llamas were in the pasture next to my garden. Turns out, they were actually making a pasture out of my garden. I tried to run. Several awkward, clomping strides later, I remembered that one does not run in welllies (rubber boots? I started wearing such footwear while working at an internationally staffed sleep-away camp, and everyone used the British term…In America, I think we just call them rubber boots…). So I stopped running and starting power walking (or something), and I briefly thought about stopping to take pictures–because I’m a blogger, I guess–but then I decided my squash and cucumbers and everything else were more important than photographic evidence.
So Gabby and I chased the llamas out of the garden. (The llamas were not happy.) Then I took pictures.
This is a llama footprintEvidence! (This is a llama footprint and what was a very nice onion.)
They ate several onions. (I can’t imagine why…) Knocked over a tomato cage. Generally ran a muck.
…Actually, they didn’t do too much damage. In fact, if I let them back in, I think they’d mostly eat the weeds…
Once we were done chasing llamas out, we set about to beat back some more weeds and look over the plants.
Everything, including the weeds, seems to be doing quite well.
Look at all those blooms!
Nearly every vining plant I have is riddled with blooms. We should be rolling in cucumbers, zucchini, spaghetti squash, watermelon, acorn squash, pumpkin…and the other stuff I can’t really remember. (Don’t blame me! All the rain has washed off most of the garden markers. Either way, lots of food.)
The tomatillos are loaded! I cannot wait!
Admittedly, you can’t really tell from this photo, but we have four tomatillo plants, and they will be pretty prolific.
More tomatoes than I can imagine what to do with.
We found this cuteness in the raspberry thicket. I imagine there may have been an unhappy bird around when we took this photo. Other than the picture, we left it completely undisturbed.
Oh, and my chickens are laying! They’ve been living in a stall since their coop isn’t done.
The coop, in progress. My ridiculously talented carpenter/husband has the redesign in progress. Cluckingham Palace (I WILL have a sign made up) will probably be nicer than our house with shade via a chickeny pergola, insulated walls, lighting inside and out, and a washable surface in and out.
Can anyone tell me what kind of chickens I have? I’m completely clueless.
I know, not great photos. You will see more once they move into the palace, but that won’t be for a week or so.
This one is my favorite…
Anyone know what this is? She (possibly he?) is my favorite. Hatched this Spring, I cannot tell if it’s a roo or a hen. (Please be a hen. Please be a hen. Please be a hen…)
