“What’s a bloody L, Mummy?” This is a direct quote of myself as a young child–or perhaps one of my sisters, because sometimes those memories are blurry. The backstory here is that I grew up in London in the 1970s. A family friend used the phrase “bloody hell” to express exasperation and dismay, which translated through his accent and my young ears to “bloody ‘ell”. Was it the letter L that had somehow become bloody, and if so how? Was it bad? Why? And why would you bring it up in conversation if it was so bad? Parsing grown-up-speak isn’t easy.
Now I will get to the point: blood is what my blog post is about. And also my feelings about it, as expressed by this old-fashioned swear. Exasperation, dismay, despair. An existential questioning… What am I doing? I can’t believe I’m doing this. Is it doing any good? Continue reading “Bloody ‘ell!”
The title about sums it up. I wondered if a strong-smelling essential oil would keep away my flax-chewer. My mother uses peppermint oil to discourage mice from chewing the insulation in the stove at our family’s cabin when we close it up for the winter. I didn’t have any peppermint on-hand Sunday morning, but I did have pennyroyal oil.
I saturated some strips of row cover:
Then I tied them to bamboo stakes:
Then I stuck them inside the beds so the cloth hung near ground level:
Continue reading “Pennyroyal Oil Is Not a Deterrent”
Something is chewing my flax. I am pretty worried. This happened last year and I really do not want to repeat the disaster. Here’s the evidence:
It fells a stalk. Some of the stalks are chewed on an angle, but some are chewed straight across:
Then it chews the stalk into little pieces:
It leaves a pile of chewed up stalks on the ground: