THE "BIG" PICTURE

Of my front deck, that is.


I'm a homebody at heart. This is the front of my hermitage. Truly, what need have I to go any farther than my front steps?

Well, perhaps a wander about the yard wouldn't come amiss. Sunday morning I was up early and work opened late, so I took the camera for a stroll.


Another green frog, this one hiding in the original Puddle, a 55 gallon prefab pond I installed over ten years ago. (Still a vivid memory, and the reason the other, larger pond liner is still there in the garden where I tossed it years ago...)


A webworm. These things are everywhere this year, eating pretty much anything and everything.


Datana caterpillars. Not so cute and they only turn into a plain brown moth, but interesting enough hanging out on the end of a pin oak limb.

What I really wanted to find was a big fat green giant silkworm caterpillar (Cecropia, Polyphemus, whatever, I'm not picky) somewhere in the oak or maple or tulip poplar trees. I did catch a brief glimpse of a huge moth fluttering out of a maple one night weeks ago and the top of the young tulip is suspiciously bare, so I know they are out there.


Guess who was waiting for me in the middle of the front steps when I came home Sunday afternoon? Yup, BFT (The First) looking, well, fat. And quite colorful, really, with touches of red and even green.

What, I should start traveling again? Visit with people? Spend more than 12 hours away from home? Hah! In a pig's toad's eye, I will...


(Sorry, couldn't resist.)

TIME SHARE

When last we saw her, BFTII (Big Red) was heading off into the wilds last Monday...


She was sent off with a goodbye and a farewell pat on the head.


Sunday morning.

One can't help but wonder what will happen if BFT (The First) and Big Red should chance to end up in the petunia pot on the same day… It's not all that big a pot.

Speaking of BFTI: After admonishing her to be careful when she trucked off quite purposefully down the walk straight to the driveway one afternoon sometime last week, I nearly stepped on her out in the drive's turn-around at 9pm last night. (Note to self: Do not come home or leave after dark; she's quick enough to jump out of my way, but the truck would be another matter entirely.) It will be interesting to see when/if she decides to come back to the deck.

One can't help but wonder if anyone has done a study on the territory requirements of a toad.

Snap.

Hah! Look who was on the front deck when I put the dog out first thing this morning...


Big Fat Toad (The First). I checked the spots on the deck toad photos going back to the first post of a toad in a pot; it's definitely BFT I.


By midday, she'd settled down once again into the toads' favorite pot. Uh-oh. I hadn't expected either of them back, and had watered the petunia... Seems she couldn't dig herself in. Oops. She disappeared when the dog and I started going up and down the steps a little too frequently for her peace of mind, but I'm assuming she's close by. (I prefer to believe Big Red Toad is, too.)

And then, while I was bringing in hummer feeders to rinse and refill (must remember: finish that), I heard a *plurp* from a prefab pond liner I had tossed in the front "garden" years ago that I have yet to dig in (or build a raised bed around). It collects a bit of water, and I've heard birds splashing in it, but this was a different sort of noise, and I had looked over in time to see a sort of *blurp* at the surface. Curious as to what was in the mess of plant debris and water, naturally I gave the thing a shake. Truly, the human brain must be programmed to recognize patterns, for I immediately picked out one from the mish mash.


I screamed with glee (no neighbors, remember?) and ran into the house to put down the feeders and grab the camera, raced back outside and down the walk, around the shed, and across the just-as-cluttered and debris-filled excuse for a patio (note to self: acquire power washer) to get a better view from the opposite angle (and to avoid stepping into the garden tangle where a big black wasp was flitting).


(The violets are doing fabulously, by the by, if any other fritillary caterpillar would care to visit.) I would not have thought this was much in the way of habitat, but it is apparently just enough for....


Snap! See the shape that stands out? Using a photo is cheating: always look dead center or thereabouts first. There, just above dead center. No? Let's zoom in for a close-up...


Whatta face! Whatta glare... I do believe someone isn't very happy with me. Baby snapping turtles are some of the coolest looking beasties. And this isn't a hatch year baby, either. I should know, having kept one in the house some years ago. They are about ping pong ball sized; this one is approaching tennis ball width.

So now what do I do? Get that pond put in (and make sure there is gunk on the bottom for winter hibernating), leave it alone on the assumption that Snap has been there at least a year or two already? Put netting over it so I don't suddenly have a mess of one-legged songbirds flying around?

...Oh, the drama! While waiting to reconnect to my dial-up that so ungraciously kicked me off while trying to upload turtle photos, I put out the cleaned and filled hummer feeders and checked on Snap. Ack! No turtle in sight, but wait, one--no, two frogs instead. Aaaahhhh! No, not there, you suicidal amphibians, there's a snapping turtle in there!

And earlier, when I had just returned home from shopping and had an armful of purchases (cat food and rescued plants, mostly) but no camera to hand, the biggest, reddest, most beautiful Velvet Ant (in actual fact a wingless wasp, I believe) was running around near the end of the walk. Naturally she was gone when I went back out to look for her... But I know she's out there somewhere.

Have I mentioned lately how much I love living in the sticks...?

BYE-BYE, BUFOS...

I have been abandoned. Deserted! I found Big Fat Toad (The First) last week on the far end of my brick front walk, completely opposite from the deck, a good fifteen feet or more from where it had been residing. Okay, I thought, I still have Big Red. (BFT II, the toad which was inhabiting the pots on my deck bench, if it is the same toad, had turned a rustyish reddishy brown color as they sometimes do.)


Luckily I still had Big Red, because over the years of living with multiple and various kinds of critters, I do try to look first before doing things. I looked at the last second before I stuck a staked solar light into this pot the other morning...


Hello, what have we here?


Oh, it's you. [Alas, macro and auto-focus finally failed me. Now, if I had wanted the rootlet in focus...]

Then I chanced to glance out the door early this afternoon and what do I see??? Big Red heading off down the (now partially weeded *) front walk!


Ah, well, Big Fat Toad (The First) is still hanging out down there watching the sun go down (I kid you not), so I'm hoping Big Red likewise stays nearby. I miss having them on the deck, though. And, oh great, now I'll have to worry about running them over in the drive. Aaaargh!!!


___
* Yes, of course I left the goldenrod. It's not like it's coming up in the middle of the walk... You can tell that we desperately need rain, too. What will my little toads do out there where I don't water? ::sniff::

"BASE CREATURES"

You remember my friend, Big Fat Toad (The First)? Lives in and amongst the potted plants on my front deck?


Don’t ever try to tell me that animals are merely instinctual, animated machines without capability of rational, conceptual thought or abstract thought and feelings. This isn't the first time this toad has come out to sit on the deck and watch the sun go down.

WILDLIFE IS WEIRD

At least, that's what I supposed at first: the things critters do can be just plain strange and inexplicable.

Let me set up the situation. Here's my front door, located on the backside of the front deck of the previous post. You may recognize the giant house (ha!) plant. Please excuse the condition of said door; I live in the back of beyond, it doesn't* matter what my door looks like as long as it works. Please take pity on the poor twiggy hibiscus; it didn't survive the winter inside half so well as the Monstera. Please note the little leafy thing sitting on the bench behind both of the other plants...


Here, let's take a closer look:


That little pot, there. I was watering some plants that I didn't get to last evening, and checking on (and topping off) plants I had watered, when I noticed something pale and bloated in the pothos pot.


Eew, what is that…?


Oh, good grief. You again? And how on earth did you get up here, you crazy beastie? Yes, toads frequent the deck; the steps, presumably, have a rise low enough**—and toads apparently nimble enough—to ascend even if your legs are quite short and stick out more or less sideways from your body. The location of the previous photos of toad-in-pot was only two steps up. Granted, it was a tallish pot for something so short as a toad, but this pot was all the way up the deck, and then up the bench. And then the little bugger had to smush itself in amongst the stems…

Wildlife is weird.

But I finally realized that the pots on my front deck are the only place in the surrounding acres where water—and even merely moist soil—can be found with any consistency lately, given the recent lack of rain and frighteningly hot (80°F at 8am and rising rapidly), sunny, windy weather. Still, there are at least half a dozen pots more easily accessible. (Not to mention that the deck itself and likely the nice cool dark space below the deck had received a brief soaking yesterday as the over-watered pots over-flowed in nice little tinkling cascades.) I suppose wildlife will be weird if it’s a matter a survival.

Or perhaps I am inadvertently and unknowingly sending out signals?


This season's flag. Ok, right family, wrong genus, but you'd think I'd pay more attention to things like this—I mean, look what the snowflake flag brought me this winter… (I still maintain that I am not superstitious.)

And the promised photo of the very happy hosta-in-a-pot. (With this and the coral bells being so pleased to be in pots instead of what tries to pass as topsoil in the yard [happiness which may have everything to do with being watered consistently], I'm thinking to try all sorts of "land"scape plants in pots.) Too bad the lovely blue blooms ended up too washed out in the picture to be appreciated as they deserve:


*sigh* Note the awesome piece of pottery I found at the store a few months ago…

I'm in love with a Big Blue Frog—

::snicker:: If you aren't humming, you aren't the Peter, Paul and Mary fan you thought you were!

A big blue phrog loves me…

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* Oh, my. My spell check actually wanted to use the contraction "don't" here. I'm still in shock…
** Hee-hee.

DAY ON THE DECK

Porch deck, that is. Spent the entire day yesterday puttering around my little front deck. It is on the smallish side, relatively speaking, and having it packed with both outdoor flowers and indoor plants out for the summer means it's now even smaller. I'd like to extend it, and I have the room to do so, but… Well, a wild grape appeared in the "garden" just off the front of the deck some years ago; "Yes!" I thought, and took the opportunity to train the vine all along the front rail. And then it went up into the mulberry tree. And then all along the step railing… Which means by now it is quite well established—and smack in the middle of what could have been the deck expansion. Oh. Oops.


At least that's one way to rein in my natural tendency to fill in blank spaces. When it comes to the deck, this means potted plants. Lots of potted plants. Have to use pots and the deck, given that the yard hasn't been mowed in about five years and the deer would eat anything I put out there anyway. (As it is, I'm convinced that one day some enterprising, or very hungry, deer will eventually figure out the steps.) Not increasing the space at least means I won't have to water more than I already am. (And for any of you who container-garden, you know how frequently that can be. Naturally, after watering two days in a row, we finally managed to get a bit of rain last night.)


Even though I have yet to catch a deer on the deck, there is a lot of fauna that does drop in for a visit, such as this red admiral, just waking up first thing in the morning. (It didn't like me sticking a camera in its face and it left, perhaps sooner than it wanted to. Oops.)


I went to water a pot for the second time later in the afternoon, and noticed an unexpected pattern in the soil.


Hello, Mr. Toad!


Er, Mrs. Toad? I've seen dozens of Bufos (Fowler's; I don't have the species name to hand) in the dozen years I've been here—some even a bright brick red all over, very cool; this one had red spots—but this specimen has to be the biggest one ever.


Speaking of specimens… I didn't need a(nother) specimen plant. I mean, I love them, but my house really isn't as humid in the winter as it should be to keep most of the normal-sized plants happy three or four months out of the year, never mind the giant ones. (It is quite humid this summer, however; my hoya is growing again and is putting out aerial roots now as well as new leaves.) I can usually keep my large ficus under control with a good pruning, and the once-full-sized schefflera has become rather stunted (the dry conditions and a really, really bad case of scale), but I did know full well what I would be getting myself in for with this one...


There's a reason this plant's genus name is Monstera; the black bench whose end you can just see to the left, peeking out from under the foliage, is about five or six feet long. Eep. Evidence indeed of my extreme lack of will power; I found a nice-sized, still-in-decent-shape plant at Wallyworld late last summer and telling myself I'd already killed one or two baby monsteras over the years didn't stop me from buying it. Much to my surprise, however, it not only survived the dry winter in a sunny window in the cat room, as soon as I started upping its water it responded by popping out a half a dozen new leaves. At least one new shoot is even peeking up from the root crown. Yikes. I'm going to need a hand cart to get the sucker back inside this fall. (And its new support stake is likely going to have to be anchored to a wall stud.) I may be able/tempted to take some cuttings if it gets too broad to wrangle up the stairs. (And then I can have a house full of monster plants. What on earth was I thinking??? [Um, well, that it wouldn't survive…])


Also known as split-leaved philodendron for obvious reasons, although I prefer it's scientific name Monstera deliciosa. Delicious indeed! This is pretty much what broke my will; I love the leaves of these plants. The one baby I have managed to keep alive over the years hasn't been happy enough to produce the split leaves yet. (It's a matter of plant age and growing conditions.) I'm hoping that new soil and a summer on the deck helps. I suppose it's ridiculous to hope that it will have small split leaves instead of platter-sized leaves?


White coral bells, upon a slender stalk… (Bet you get stuck singing that song off on and for the rest of the day if you know it.) Also in a pot on the deck and happier than ever this year. The hostas (started with just one plant rescued from the "garden" where the grape came up) are going gang-busters in their new huge pot as well. Maybe I'll post photos when the buds open...