Florida in Buffalo UPDATE

 Our closest metropolis, here in western New York, Buffalo, is proud of its botanical gardens, which I've just visited for the first time. I'd never seen them but had driven past, remarking on some slight similarity with Kew. 

Which they weren't of course but they still had a lot of charm.

Funny thing though - as we went through the hothouses, suitably masked as per regulations, even though there was hardly anyone else there, as per regulations,  a lot of the displays were of sub-tropical stuff, palm trees of various kinds and such which grow like weeds in Florida. So it wasn't really news to us. Take Spanish moss which drapes over the live oak trees everywhere in the south like this... 

Here it was draped for show like washing over rails.....

Looked as though it had been specially blow-dried too. And I've spent a lot of time digging surplus ones of  these up from the side of our Florida house

Though one could say that seeing them out of context makes them seem that bit more special. 

There was a medicinal plant area too and I was much taken with the disclaimer....

In particular that the information given had not been "evaluated" by the Food and Drug Administration. Well you can't be too careful - someone might just grab a handful and cook it up and then sue because it didn't cure them - or worse. 

But it was all worth it for the cacti.  I'd never seen such a display. Giant toothbrushes....

Something that looked like a spiky Christmas pudding

Nature was certainly having fun with these!

Not to mention bunny ears

Another of the giant puddings - or perhaps a coronavirus....

"Drunkard's Dream" - you couldn't make it up.

And this one was a Medusa's Head.

When I was about six year's old I stroked someone's pet cactus because it looked furry. I'm still pulling the spines out.  Despite that, I never really understood the fascination before but I think I do now. 

A Shot or a Jab?

Which would you prefer?

  In Britain we call vaccinations "jabs" but when I used this expression to someone here,  they recoiled in horror - "A what? Oh - er you mean a shot?" Which makes me think how things have changed over the past few months. In February, down in Florida,  we dragged ourselves out of bed at 6am to get on the web and desperately fight for the tiny number of vax slots available at Publix supermarket - those with slower internet connections didn't have a prayer, competing with thousands upon thousands of other hopefuls. We signed up for text alerts from counties all over the state, we hovered anxiously over our phones waiting for the call -  and when it came we danced in celebration. I had friends who travelled four hours and back in a day to get their precious Pfizer or Moderna in  some far-off town, which, by some fluke, had availability. When hubby and I finally got our shot slots we queued in a long snaking line in a redundant shopping mall - finally reaching a huge, cavernous hall with rows and rows of people rolling up their sleeves like a scene from a dystopian film. How we wanted to hug that nurse! How grateful and privileged we felt and how secretly smug that we were so tech savvy that we'd managed to snag number 8,000 in the Sarasota County queue when others were lamenting, "I'm only number 63,000!" And now no one wants their miraculous free gift any more. I drove past our equivalent of the local council offices and saw a person dressed, I do not joke, as a coronavirus, ball, spikes and all, pathetically waving a banner screaming, "Get your vaccinations here!"  They could have added, "Purrrleeeeeeze!" Any queue was conspicuous by its absence.

  I have two practical suggestions. Number one: pretend it's still scarce and exclusive. That will get 'em interested. Number two: start calling them jabs. It sounds far more exciting.

The Stupidest Robin's Latest Batch

 

(See below) The babies are growing bigger and stronger the poor geranium is getting smaller and weaker. I should think they are about ready to fly though they seem in no hurry. They probably enjoy their regular shower and fertiliser bath gel.  I can't wait to reclaim my property so I wish they'd get a move on. I just wonder what inappropriate place their mother is going to pick next time.

Polite Piggies

 

A recent Wall Street Journal article - possibly it was a slow news day - remarked that many American parents had noticed that their children were learning good manners from watching Peppa Pig, which is a British cartoon of course.  The toddlers were also cultivating charming British accents and saying things like "biscuit" and "petrol station" and "Father Christmas." Well good for them. Every little helps. And the parents were apparently delighted.

   I couldn't help thinking of my own childhood and the very different attitude of British parents to accents and vocabulary picked up from American cartoons. Delighted would not be the word I would use. Now I just wonder why that is. 

The Stupidest Robin in Cattaraugus County

 Strikes again! If it wasn't enough last year to build her nest on top of the motion detector lights on the garage door and bring up two families amid flashing lights and grinding door-opening machinery, she has this year chosen the hanging basket.

You can just see her little beady eye centre of picture between two dead leaves. I didn't want to get too close. I only recently spotted her, not understanding why there always seemed to be a disgruntled flapping take-off whenever I walked past. Presumably she doesn't mind getting watered and fertilised on a regular basis.

Of course it may not be the same robin but I like to think it is. There can't be two of them that stupid.

Time to Cheer Up

 OK, let's not talk about the football.

  Let's focus on the positive. Such as, there has been so much rain in the past couple of weeks that I might never need to water the garden again. You have to slosh around in your wellies, or, better still, swimsuit and snorkel. The mushrooms are gargantuan, to the delight of the slugs..

...and it might, just might, tempt them away from the flowers. Well one lives in hope.  

The clematis Jackmanii on the garden shed is little short of magnificent.

And the more delicate and discreet pink one on the lamppost is actually deigning to flower.this year.  My clever plant recognition app on which I am wasting many happy hours, tells me it's called "Buckley".

The coneflowers still look more-or-less pristine, unassailed as yet by Japanese beetles though I managed to catch a few of the brutes. So far they seem to prefer the wildflowers, aka weeds, that have sneaked into the flower bed, which leads to a dilemma. Do I keep the weeds in place as a decoy? If life were only that simple.

Of course there's always trouble around the corner.

But the best garden news of all is that we seem to have defeated the Gypsy Moth caterpillars. After the  horrible infestation  a few years ago, when all our oak trees were stripped bare,  I was pessimistic but determined. I would go out every morning with hubby's giant fly swat and wallop them as they crawled their way up the trunk. I think we may have got them early enough. Pity the England penalty takers didn't use similar determination. (OK no talk about football).

  Meanwhile on 4th July, with our joyous first post-Covid family gathering of 13 people and 1 dog, I dutifully provided a patriotic red-white-and blue trifle. The red stripes didn't quite work.

Then, I announced, before that, we're having the Brits' revenge in the shape of bangers and mash from the British shop in Buffalo. (What a salvation that was!) 

Funny that no one complained.

Come on England!