the third wave

Hello everyone; here I am, Chess the purebred border collie, once again, with all the latest and most up-to-date news from our garden. You may remember me from such posts as “Another Chilly Day”, and “A Cold, Cold Day” (which today definitely was), among so many, many others.

Here I am in a characteristic pose.14020605It was really cold today. Like, extremely cold. When we woke up it was nine below zero (-23C), and we didn’t go on our walk until it warmed up to minus four (-20C). It was bracing, let me tell you. The guy I live with made me turn around on the canal road because the wind was up, there, and it was “like a trillion below”, he said, so I turned around. I still got in plenty of sniffing and walked a little way down the creek path before I agreed it might be too bracing.

Today’s post is mostly about indoor stuff, because, well because it is, and the guy I live with said at least some of the posts should be about gardening instead of me, me, me. I don’t see why, but, okay.

Here is “the third wave” of cactus seedlings. The light is kind of bright. They’re under fluorescent lights.14020601




14020603I showed pictures of the second wave the other day, and here is the first. These are year-old plants, which might be bigger if he had a greenhouse and paid more attention, but he says wait until they get their first exposure to sun this spring. Cactus seedlings are sensitive to sunlight so they’re have to be introduced to it slowly.



14020606He didn’t use GA-3 on these, and you can see they’re just coming up. The little plants get misted a couple of times a week.

He is using GA-3 on a couple of bunches of seeds. If you’ve never used this, or don’t know what it is, it’s kind of like a growth hormone. This is how much he uses (it’s a powder).14020607Not all of that will go into the tube, because it just doesn’t. Then the seeds go in. He had a packet of seeds of Ranunculus andersonii and it said to rub the seeds to get rid of the impervious seed coat. I thought he was going to lose his temper doing it, but he rarely does. He did say “stupid impervious seed coats” a couple of times, rather forcefully I thought. In the upper left you can see the stupid impervious seed coat. It was really hard to rub those sufficiently to remove the wings, or whatever they are. 14020608Finally he won, and the seeds went in the tube. Here’s a tube, with seeds of Viola triternata. Warm water was added before the seeds went in, and the tubes will be left overnight for the GA-3 to dissolve and be absorbed into the seeds. The seeds will be sown tomorrow after the GA-3 is diluted and rinsed out, hopefully without the seeds going down the drain too. (It’s funny when that happens. One time he made some pasta and when he poured it into a colander in the sink, the colander fell over and the pasta went right down the drain.)14020609The tubes go into a high-tech holder. “Former Soviet military” said the guy I live with, but it wasn’t that funny.14020610Well, that’s really it for today. See, this wasn’t about me hardly at all. Sigh.



Until next time, then.


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11 Responses to the third wave

  1. petabunn says:

    Hello Chess, I’m back, did you miss me? I’ve been catching up on all the posts since I started moving. What an ordeal, I never want to go through that again, I was so scared, the removers left both back and front doors open and I shot out and ran amok around the property until my aunty came and put me back in the back garden. I could see through the big glass doors as the house totally emptied and I was beside me self with fear and then we got to the other end ( I was in the car for about 4 hours in the end) and it was almost as bad, but now I am more settled and just keep barking at the neighbours (we are in suburbia now) and it does not make my mummy happy. It was good to catch up with your face and what’s happening in your garden. As you say, until next time…

    • paridevita says:

      I did miss you, actually. Moving sounds pretty scary. I really like my house, because my mommy did most of the house stuff, and sometimes I can go lie down on the rug in her bedroom, just like old times, or on the rug in her studio, which I’d do when she was drawing, or writing, or watching TV. I like lying at the foot of the stairs that go up to my bedroom, and at the foot of the stairs downstairs, even though, or maybe because of, that’s where I lost my mommy. I like the 1939 living room furniture that’s really creaky, and my bed that’s just two ancient mattresses on the floor, and the place under the living room window where I can sleep and guard the house at the same time, and my cozy fort in the kitchen, so I can imagine how terribly traumatic it must be to have to move. Home is really wonderful, and I do know how lucky I am to have one. Eventually you’ll stop barking when you get used to other people. Other people can be weird, though, so it takes time.

      • petabunn says:

        I have lots of different rooms to sleep in now like you, the old house was all open plan, no doors, and an upstairs where I wasn’t allowed ( the stairs were pretty steep anyway ). Here it is one level and I am not supposed to go in mummys room but she hates doors so every morning she wakes up and there I am at the foot of the bed. I am wondering how long it will be before I manage to creep up on the bed.

      • paridevita says:

        It can take time. Maybe eventually there will be a day, or night, when all of a sudden you’re on the bed, and everything is really great. When I lost my mommy I spent about three months under the computer desk in the upstairs closet, but then, one night, I got up on the bed and discovered I could sleep on my back, with my legs stretched out, which is one of my favorite ways to sleep, and it’s been that way ever since, even though the guy I live with claims he has hardly any room on the bed. He also sometimes complains about the loud snoring and the bedroom filling up with gas, but he doesn’t really complain that much, because he likes me. So, one day, it might happen. Beds for people are the best. You can claim to be roughing it if your whole body isn’t under the covers.

  2. Three portraits of you, Chess, three different cute poses. I’d say those numbers qualify today’s post to be significantly about you. Judging from the seed photos – those close-ups, I love ’em – the guy you live with *does* need a greenhouse. But I wonder whether you, Chess, with your love of the cold outdoors would take to that environment. And of course you’d have to be around to comment on that day’s activities. I suppose it could be said your life now is perfectly suited to you, and it should be left at that.

    • paridevita says:

      You noticed how I snuck in two pictures of me, then. I was trying to be subtle. The guy I live with says the county only allows one outbuilding and so maybe he’ll have to have an imaginary greenhouse, kind of like he has an imaginary garden assistant from time to time.

  3. KathyB says:

    Chess brings back memories of Penny the purebred border collie who was an almost member of my family about 2 or 3 million years ago when I was a kid. She actually did belong to another family down the road but frequently partook of everybody’s hospitality for quite a distance. I still remember the sight of her sitting on my mother’s gold and white couch with nary a word of protest from my mother, such was the appeal of her personality. Previously, we had a mixed collie ourselves, great dogs!

    • paridevita says:

      We are indeed pretty appealing. My grandpa Flurry was kind of grouchy in his old age, and even though I tried to play with him when I was really little, he’d growl and snap at me. My buddy Slipper was the one I really played with. My mommy fell in love with border collies because there was one, or maybe more, at a nursery she used to be dragged to by the guy I live with, and while he spent “forever” looking at plants, she played with the border collie; she’d never seen a dog crouch and stare the way we do, and after a few visits that was the kind of dog she decided she wanted. And, of course, what she got.

  4. Susan ITPH says:

    Good luck with R. andersonii. I’ve not had good luck with it, even with a gib dip. Someone at last year’s WasatchRGS suggested that I try it with fresh seed collected late spring. I think I may head out to Stansbury Island and just do that. I know where some good colonies are where the cows haven’t trampled them. But you’ve always seem to have all the luck, so keep us posted.

    • paridevita says:

      Tried it once before and nothing happened. Maybe twice before. Ranunculus seed is said to be short-lived, but maybe with dryland species it’s different. GA-3 is kind of overrated, like a lot of things, but thought I’d give it a try.

    • paridevita says:

      It’s Viola trinervata, not triternata like I typed. Noticed this morning, after a night of soaking, that the seeds of Ranunculus andersonii that hadn’t been rubbed successfully were a lot easier to deal with when wet. I poured everything into a beaker and added water. The ones with wings were floating, but with just a little rubbing between thumb and forefinger, the seed sank to the bottom. That tells me that the wings had been broken into, or whatever happens.

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