Garden update: autumn has arrived

I am able to write this because we cancelled door knocking for today – flood warnings everywhere in the area – and because the only other task I might possibly have for today is cleaning up my office.  

And then it turned out I had to partially clean my desk because otherwise I could not connect the camera to upload the photos.  I am incorrigibly messy.

The successes

Mailbox garden: snapdragons, mums,
no-longer-blooming balloon flowers, and
owl art.  Am I partial to owl imagery?  Yes, I am.

The stars of this year’s Common Household Gardens were the snapdragons, the coreopsis, the sedum, and the coleus.  I wish I had photos of them from August.  Curses on you, sciatica and mal de débarquement syndrome and the ensuing therapies!  Curses on you, dental work and election work!  Those are my excuses and I’m sticking to ‘em.

Snapdragons

Back in June I thought the snapdragons were done, but they just kept bursting forth in their crimson glory all summer.  They did well right next to the street, below the mailbox.

The sedum has spread!

The yellow and orange coreopsis reflected the sun’s brilliance for months (no photo), but stopped blooming maybe in mid-September.  The sedum looks flatter than it did in June, but it kept spreading as I was told it would.

Two varieties of coleus,
making friends with the bush,
and trying to shake
your hand, too.

The coleus suffered from wealth inequality.  I had doubts it would do well as a potted plant under my care, so I planted all of the coleus (two different varieties) in one pot. They deserved a better distribution of resources.  Partway through the summer they looked like they would be eaten to death by some bug, but both kinds rallied and bloomed and skyrocketed.  Currently it looks like it is reaching out to knock on voters’ doors.  Go, coleus!

The bee balm was lovely in its time, and I hope it comes back next year.  I don’t know if I should cut back the stems or not.  The yarrow did its duty, but it was not as stunning.  I like it because I have a vague idea it hails from medieval times and is medicinal.

Hanging on

The marigolds and the balloon flowers (Platycodon grandiflorus) did okay.  Halfway through the summer the deerabbits ate a lot of the balloon flowers.  After that there were some blooms but they were a shadow of their former selves.  

Pot with black-eyed susan vine and forget-me-nots.

I started “black-eyed susan vines” in two pots, and then also forget-me-nots with the b-e.s.v. in one, and English thyme in the other.  The thyme never showed its face. The vines grew and started to tangle themselves in the nearby bushes but there was nary a bloom until September, one solitary flower that didn’t look exactly like a black-eyed susan.  And yesterday I saw one b-e.s.v. bloom in the other pot, and a few forget-me-nots.  

This is the black-eyed susan vine bloom.   (Blogger is not cooperating on the photo captions right now.)

A truly terrible photo of the forget-me-nots,
in the same pot with the b-e.s.v.

The geranium, a gift from the church music director, kept on plugging away.  It was almost never without a bloom, and there is a hopeful bud on it today.  

Geranium - the gift that keeps on giving

The lamb’s ear, lantana, and verbena still have foliage, but the lantana and verbena flowers were dessert for the local herbivores.  And now that spot is a hellish mess. I am not sticking my hands in there. 

A stew of lamb's ear, verbena, and lantana

The two bleeding heart plants faded slowly, as they should, and there is no indication of them except the marker I put there.  I really must hope they return in the spring, as they should, because they were the last things I planted before sciatica doom.  They will be my rebuttal to aging.

Shall I attempt to bring the potted plants inside before the first frost? The question will be where to put them.  And will they have bugs?

The disappointments

The biggest disappointment were the black-eyed susans.  I planted one from the garden store, and several more that were gifts from the neighbor.  I have a great fondness for these flowers.  And so did the deer. Eaten and re-eaten.  I finally got some rudimentary fencing and bird netting.  The plants managed to survive and eke out a few flowers.  There was still one bloom yesterday.  Meanwhile, in our area I saw numerous successful b-e susans. 

The astilbe was dead before mid-summer.  Sigh. This was supposed to be a great plant for growing in the shade.  Not our shade.

The salmon-colored impatiens did much better
than the white ones.

Almost all the white impatiens disappeared early in July.  Why?

The snow-in-summer looks like it just heard all the news this week and now can’t get out of bed anymore.  Why?  

Snow-in-summer, not looking so good.

Also disappointing are my photos.  It was too dark last night at 5:30 PM but I took the photos anyway.  I was too lazy to retake them this afternoon.

Soldiering on

We bought two mums for cheer and hope. The yellow one, which I put out by the mailbox (where it will catch the rain) is doing splendidly.  The purple one, which I put close to the house, is not.  Today I moved it.

HAVE YOU MADE YOUR PLAN TO VOTE?

Life on board: six days of Alaska

Is there a more pampered way of travel than a cruise?  Not in my experience.

This was our first time on a cruise ship.  We thank our friends who gave us numerous tips.  We were not quite ready for the unique culture that is cruise travel.

Our cruise ship, the MSC Poesia (of the MSC Cruise line) housed about 3,000 passengers and also 1,040 crew members.  As our Seattle friends said, it’s a floating hotel.  

My first impression: the ship is huge and full of mirrors everywhere.  Loads of staff of many ethnicities welcoming us and helping us find our way.  Almost never-ending availability of food.

It’s now been eight weeks since we returned, but for posterity’s sake I record here my impressions of The Cruise Life.

The room

Our luggage was delivered to us seamlessly. Our room was small but not claustrophobic.  The closet space was a pleasant surprise.

We had paid for an upgrade to a balcony room, which I think was key to our enjoyment of the whole trip. We were on Deck 11: I thought my acrophobia would kick in, but I simply looked out instead of down.  It was marvelous to wake up and open the curtains to a view of either never-ending ocean, or snow-capped mountains, or endless forests, or teal-blue fjord.  

Blue arrow pointing to our room
on Deck 11

The CHH on the balcony.

The neighbors

Before leaving port, we spent some time on the balcony and met the people next door.  Throughout the cruise we could occasionally hear them through the wall, but mostly it was quiet.  We heard from our assigned dinner mates that noisy folks in a next-door cabin can greatly mar the cruise experience.

Yes, we had assigned dinner mates.  That could have been a disaster, especially when our new acquaintance said, “We’re from Texas.”  But we avoided outright political talk, and moderately enjoyed their company when we were dining with them.

The pool

Like any hotel, this one has a pool.  On the top-most deck, exposed to the air. 

Once we settled in, the Common Household Husband wanted to take a dip in the pool which is on deck 13, at the very top of the ship. Open to the sky.  Unpleasant gusts of wind.  I did not go swimming, and did not enjoy my time there.  The CHH bopped around in the pool and enjoyed it.  In the hot tub he met people from Chicago and Vancouver.  When he went back to the hot tub another day he said it was full of teenagers.  Who are, in fact, entitled to use the hot tub, too, but less inclined to be contemplative while in it.

the CHH enjoys the pool

Behavior and dress

The cruise culture included this quirk: some people place magnets outside their cabin door for decoration or to distinguish their door from all the other doors in the narrow corridor of this Hilbert Hotel-like atmosphere.  This makes sense, especially if there are children involved. 

Casual dress is the norm.  Except for the special night on which 30 percent were dressed to the nines, another 30 percent moderately dressed up (like us) and the rest not at all.

The entertainment

There was no shortage of entertainment possibilities.  We attended an opening presentation in the theater (800+ seats?).  The theater was sparkly but the seats were uncomfortable for me.  The presentation informed us that there were dancers, singers, pianists, big band, and a comedian on board.  During our 7 days on board, we only went to a few musical performances.  We did not go to the napkin folding workshop.  The big band on board was quite good, I thought.  I had not yet developed my MdDS; the Common Household Husband is a very good dancer; I am not but nevertheless we enjoyed dancing to the big band music.

The Zebra Bar.
Probably not good for the vestibular-ocular reflex

Lights and sparkles everywhere

The big band in the Pigalle Lounge

There was a small casino on board.  I have no objection, except that smoking was allowed in that room, a room we often had to pass through to go somewhere else.

The naturalist

I was pleased that there was a naturalist on board.  We went to two of the naturalist’s presentations.  Although her background was in teaching, I found the presentations rushed and a bit disjointed.  

Periodically the ship’s PA system would sound “Bong Bing Bing!” and then the naturalist would tell all of us that there was an orca on the port side, or a humpback whale on the port side.  I think only once was there wildlife on our side, the starboard side. But we saw plenty of wildlife on our excursions.

Naturalist presentation in the sparkly theater.

Dining

We wished we had discovered sooner in the week that we could have breakfast and lunch at the restaurant, rather than the buffet.  The buffet had a plethora of offerings, but it was often crowded and noisy.  There were SO many opportunities to eat; the food was of varying quality.  The restaurant food was mostly good to very good.   The Butcher's Cut, the super fancy restaurant, was excellent.

If you wanted to, you could eat some form of salmon at every meal.  Maybe that just applies to Pacific Northwest cruises.

One of the restaurants.

We tried room service breakfast
the first morning, but it was suboptimal.

Breakfast in the buffet,
with Dawes Glacier in the background.

Dinner on the first night, in The Butcher's Cut
Excellent food and service and unparalleled view of the
wake of the ship.

First Lines: September 2026 edition

Stacks and stacks of music books

Below are the first lines of the seven books I finished reading in September – mostly short, and one longish. 

Book 1

One: What Happened to Kinnick

A prim girl stood still as a fencepost on Rhys Kinnick’s front porch.  Next to her, a cowlicked boy shifted his weight from snow boot to snow boot.

 

Book 2

It may happen in my grandchildren’s lifetimes, or those of their grandchildren, that mankind will learn the secrets of time-travel and Doctor Who’s TARDIS becomes a reality.  

 

The TARDIS becomes a reality in gingerbread.  2014.

 

Book 3

Two sisters lived alone in a hideous, drafty old house on the edge of town. 

 

 

Book 4

“A Contagious Living Fluid”: 

Tobacco Mosaic Virus and the Discovery of the Virosphere

Fifty miles southeast of the Mexican city of Chihuahua is a dry, bare mountain range called Sierra de Naica.

 

Book 5

When the train stopped I stumbled out, nudging and kicking the kitbag before me. 

 

Book 6

Chapter 1: Nabeyaki-Udon

Walking away from Higashi Honganji temple, Hideji Kuboyama instinctively turned up the collar on his trench coat.

 

Book 7

“What’s two plus two?”

Something about the question irritates me.  I’m tired.  I drift back to sleep.

 

The titles and authors revealed:

 

 

Book 1

So Far Gone

Jess Walter

257 pages • first pub 2025

fiction literary

A fast read about division and trauma due to radicalism and loneliness causing a split in a troubled family.   The characters were appealing, but the cause for the descent into radicalism was only touched on briefly, and I felt it could have used more attention.  I liked the way the book was structured.  At times terrifying, at times quite amusing.  Content warning: contains violence, including murder.  

I tried to read another book by this author, Cold Millions, but it was a DNF for me.  Can’t remember why.

 

 

Book 2

How to Survive in Medieval England

Toni Mount

176 pages • first pub 2021  

Nonfiction

Compared to Medieval England, we are pretty much better off.  I was mostly interested in the parts about health and women.  The book is written in an accessible, conversational manner.

 

 

Book 3

Bog Myrtle

Sid Sharp

142 pages • first pub 2024

Children’s picture book.

A story of labor solidarity.  Content warning: spiders, and a mean capitalist sister.  

 

This is a very different children's book featuring a spider.

Book 4

A Planet of Viruses (Third Edition)

Carl Zimmer

159 pages • first pub 2011; the third edition which I read was published in 2021, after the start of the covid-19 pandemic.

nonfiction health science

A good overview of viruses for non-scientists.  Big take-away:  viruses are everywhere and numerous.  Scientists go to the ends of the earth, and find viruses there.  

This was one of the books that I allowed myself to buy for my Kindle (it was on sale) before our vacation.  It was a wise choice, though, that I did not read this while on that trip.  While it’s fascinating, and I’m probably better off knowing a little more about viruses than I did, it would have disturbed our mostly idyllic travel.

 

Book 5

A Month in the Country

J.L. Carr

135 pages • first pub 1980

fiction classics historical literary

Second reading of this lovely novella, for book club at the end of September. Highly recommend.

  

 

Book 6

The Kamogawa Food Detectives

The Kamogawa Food Detectives #1

Hisashi Kashiwai with Jesse Kirkwood (Translator)

201 pages • first pub 2013

This book is for connoisseurs of Japanese cuisine, or for those who just want to not think about current events.  The descriptions of food might have been mouthwatering if I had known what the food was.  The book is really just a series of short stories, with each chapter essentially the same: a client asks the food detectives (a father-daughter team who also run a restaurant) to recreate a dish that the client is nostalgic for, for reasons.  The detectives succeed.  The phrase “sourced from” is used repeatedly.

When I searched my photo library for "Japanese food"
this was one of the results.  I have no idea what it is.

Book 7

Project Hail Mary

By Andy Weir

476 pages • first pub 2021 

science fiction 

Projected time to read: 10 hours. Took me longer.

Storygraph description: adventurous funny hopeful medium-paced

Has drawings of rockets in the ‘foreword’ space.

It was okay.  I liked the ending.  I liked that it ended.  I liked the two main characters.  I had to quickly skim the final 20% and then slowed down for the final chapter, rather like a spaceship approaching the home planet.  To me the book does not merit the 4.5 to 4.7 star ratings.  I read it for book club, and it might be that the discussion will help me like the book more.  I haven't seen the movie, and am not likely to see it.

Space travel, Catan style.

Mal de débarquement syndrome (MdDS)

The Inside Passage is relatively calm water.
This is the churniest it got.

It feels like I’m still on the cruise ship. We left the ship weeks ago.

I thought it would be worthwhile writing about my condition, because it’s so strange and rare.  Maybe someone else experiencing this syndrome will find this post and know they are not alone.

The symptoms

Most people, when they get off a ship, feel the simulation of the boat rocking for a few minutes or hours, and then the feeling goes away.  They get their land legs.  We got off the boat the morning of Aug 3rd, and by evening I still had the swaying feeling.  Oddly, though, I did not feel the rocking motion when I was on the bus to the hotel.  I also didn’t notice it when we were on the plane flight home.  And I drove us home from the airport without giving it a thought.

Now, nearly seven weeks later, I still have sea legs, or perhaps more accurately, sea brain. Just sitting in my chair now, it feels as if I am bobbing up and down.  Or if I get up to walk, it feels like things are swaying side to side.  If I stand with my feet close together and close my eyes, it’s a recipe for feeling off balance completely.

But if I’m in a moving vehicle, I don’t feel the sensation at all.  Even though the moving vehicle is a car that is not rocking from side to side.

If I concentrate very hard on a task, I don’t notice the feeling as much, which suggests to me that it is a brain condition.  We’ll see if I can teach new tricks to my old dog of a brain.

Enemy of enjoyment while boating: fog.
Enemy of enjoyment after boating: MdDS.

The diagnosis and correlations

The vestibular therapist, whom I shall call Irene because she is so peaceful and calm, diagnosed me with mal de débarquement syndrome (MdDS).  (She did the maneuver on me with the infrared ocular device and turning my head, to rule out BPPV, which I have experienced many times before.)  

Mal de débarquement means “the illness of getting off the boat” or, the darker interpretation I prefer, “the evil of leaving the cruise”.  As a former French major, I delight in saying débarquement as Frenchified as I can, “DAY-bar-que-MAHN” but that is about the only delight I find.  Americans, including VT Irene, say “dee- BARK- ment.”

VT Irene said my condition is caused by a mismatch between my brain and my ocular and vestibular something-or-other.  In short, my brain can’t believe my eyes nor my inner ear.  

This condition may be more prevalent in people who get frequent migraines, which I get only occasionally (one every few months), which starts with a visual aura, followed by a headache, but not an excruciating one.  Last week, though, I experienced two of those visual auras in one afternoon.  Maybe VT Irene also mentioned a correlation with anxiety, which I have but not officially diagnosed, and not treated by drugs. I also have acrophobia, which is defined as an unreasonable fear of heights.  

I feel that anxiety and fear of heights are reasonable in these interesting times.

Our cabin was on Deck 11.  I did not look down.

The treatment

VT Irene said that there is no for-certain immediate cure.  

She encouraged me to try the dai protocol stripes exercise of watching a video of stripes moving one direction (video available for either direction!), while tilting my head slowly from right to left and back again.  For 5 minutes.  I’ve tried it once a day for a few weeks (missing a few days when we had visitors) but it has not measurably changed my plight.  I probably haven’t done it enough. Blah.  It’s very boring.

VT Irene also has me doing exercises involving looking to the right and left (or up and down) rapidly, including while walking. I discovered that the Big Box store at about 9:30 AM is an excellent place to try this.  I have the shopping cart to hang on to.  Consumer traffic is light at that time.  The aisles are really long.  If you see a woman walking her shopping cart down the aisle looking rapidly right to left, that’s me, pretending to look for the kitchen tools aisle but surreptitiously doing vestibularity.

A few things have temporarily helped:

- driving the car.  Seems to also be ok as a passenger.  (However, perhaps sometime I will write another post about my BsDS = back seat driverism syndrome).  At today’s gas prices, this is not a viable solution.  The MdDS returns as soon as I get out of the car.

- walking while holding 3-pound weights in both hands, with my arms by my sides.  This was one of the V.T. exercises.

- walking while imagining holding 3-pound weights in both hands, with my arms by my sides.  See, it’s all about retraining the brain.

- sitting down, concentrating on a task.

Probably traveling by train or plane would also relieve the symptoms temporarily.

No idea if canoe travel would relieve symptoms.

No amusement park rides for me!

The life

In my life, I have not usually suffered from motion sickness.  Thankfully and amazingly, the MdDS has not made me nauseous.  But it does make me reluctant to walk by myself, for fear I will fall down or look drunk to the other humans.  My walking feels worse to me than it looks to others, friends tell me.  I have not fallen, but occasionally flail my arms around to regain balance.  And MdDS has made me very frustrated.

I’m afraid when walking through crowds, as I did last week at the high school football game, that someone will bump into me and I will crumble.  The MdDS limits my motivation to do my other therapy exercises, for the sciatica.

One of the electeds I am campaigning for.

I have decided to just go on with my life, which right now includes knocking on doors to talk to voters.  It’s for my mental health more than anything else.  When I’m door knocking, the MdDS is not quite as bad, as I’m concentrating on a higher purpose, so I manage to somewhat ignore this unwanted companion.

I’m already prone to vestibular issues, with many occurrences of benign paroxysmal positional vertigo, sadly not a French ailment.  And I had one horrid episode in June 2025 which sent me to the ER; afterward the ENT doc said that was not BPPV but something else vestibular, the cause never firmly determined.   Despite my regular inner ear ailments, I never imagined this MdDS condition would be the long-lasting outcome of our marvelous cruise along the Inside Passage of Alaska.  I talked to plenty of experienced cruise-goers before our trip and not a one mentioned this as a possibility.

The brain in the train or airplane feels mainly on a flat plane. 

Make it so.

St Michael's, Annapolis, Maryland.

NIH article for those interested. I haven't read the whole thing.