Amour Haiku VII

Balzac's moustache won

friends, renown, regard and love:

books helped, too, perhaps.

'Grow Your Own Fucking Moustache, Asshole' The Wet Secrets

Semi-Permanence

The conditions on my permanent resident status were removed, and I'm now legally a resident of this country until 2019 (!). My Canadian passport will expire in less time (pooh to you Canada, with great big knobs). 

'Greencard Husband' Gogol Bordello

In the Ground

First planting Saturday: Swiss chard and dandelion greens. Small accomplishment, sure, but they'll be tasty. And my wife's help has been invaluable, especially while I'm in a weakened state. I'm going to name a variety of potato after her, since she's my babkalove (no, but really, a gooseberry, or some other delectably silly fruit). 

'Sweet Potato' Sia

Vermilove

Still toiling on the nascent garden. It's rained quite a bit today, which is wonderful, since the soil in our yard is (was) having trouble breathing: it felt like it was dry-heaving from a lack of moisture. Of course, all the weed seeds I've liberated while removing sod (what thankless and tedious work - especially done entirely by hand) have been given a huge green thumbs-up, and will soon start their bid for backyard domination. I'm ready for them, though (Allie too). Let the battle begin! 

Also, I've discovered some excellent gardening resources since arriving in Portland, including Steve Solomon's bible for west-coast growers, Growing Vegetables West of the Cascades, and The Maritime Northwest Garden Guide (a packed 76 pages offering an abundance of information and delight), published by Seattle Tilth. And I finally picked up a copy of Worms Eat My Garbage, so be prepared to greet our partners in composting magic when visiting us in Portland. 

'Garden' Winter Family

Zombies vs Monsanto: Battle of the Monstrous

Some films and books to consider: Food, Inc. (oh, Monsanto, when will the evildoing end?), The End of the Line, Flow, The Compassionate Carnivore (because of my ulcerative colitis, I've been forced to renew meat consumption until the flare is controlled, so I'm looking for veggie converts, or at least humane meatlove - you know who you are), Bottomfeeder, Stuffed and Starved. Not always pleasant viewing or reading, so here's some lighter fare when you need some downtime from the doom: Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (probably ridiculous, but who can resist?), Scoop (if you haven't read Waugh yet, this is my favourite), Groovitude (why do we submit to feline tyranny?), Theories of Everything (we love you Roz!), Bringing Up Baby (I can't give you anything but kale...Baby), WALL-E (I know, but it's adorable, admit it), Harold and Maude (love - and death, too - is beautiful),  Amélie (don't all our hearts belong to her?), and Bubba Ho-tep (Bruce Campbell is nine kinds of awesome, at least).

'Zombie Song' The Besties

No-Till Is Still Best

So, we've moved to Portland (Oregon). If you read my wife's blog (and you should), you already know this. I haven't posted about this relocation (or anything else) because 1) my ulcerative colitis, which has been in remission for about three years, recently returned to plague me, and I've been considerably weakened as a result, and 2) when not suffering from severe intestinal pain and fever, etc., I'm toiling to convert our backyard into a productive garden. I took copious notes, however, while we crossed the country (Williamstown to Portland - over 3,000 milesm or 4,800 kilometres for fellow Canadians), and I'll post something soon to delight and terrify your jaded hearts (why not). 

Yesterday, while preparing our yard for vegetable love and herbal delights (basil, cilantro, and parsley rather than anything more exotic, alas), I unearthed the (shallowly) buried remains of Lilly, the pet (cat, probably, or something smaller and of the rodent persuasion, considering the size of her burial container) of the previous occupants, who, if her gravestone (handmade, with mingled love and unappeasable grief) is any indication, met an untimely end in 2000. I felt awful, of course, having disturbed her mortal remains of their well-deserved rest (I also found fragments of many plastic flowers, which is so poignant - imagine the little girl/boy, bereft, placing this bouquet on Lilly's grave). And I couldn't help but imagine Pet Sematary - visions of her unquiet spirit returning to haunt and torment me, not to mention the likely evisceration in store for me as a desecrator, however inadvertently.  So I reinterred her bagged remains, and sowed daisies, zinnias and cosmos - an odd assortment, perhaps, but colourful, certainly. Anyway, it provoked  a meditation on mortality - mine, of course, because it's a particular obsession, but mostly Mieko's. He's only six, yes, but this trip across America aged him a little - it was very hard for him (and us too). He's a maddeningly lovable dunderhund, and he's irreplaceable - which is true of all our pets. So here's a song for Lilly and Mieko and all the dogs (and cats, rodents and miscellaneous furred, feathered and scaly beasts) who love us still.

'Dead Dogs Love Us Still' Carbon Dating Service