Showing posts with label Home Depot. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Home Depot. Show all posts

Friday, March 13, 2026

"Five Dollar Fern"

2020

 
            A Mother’s Day gift many years ago of three five dollar ferns growing in hanging baskets has become a repot tradition to mark the passage of yet another year. This year, two of the ferns bump up into five gallon pots. The third fern, accidentally overwatered last year by someone helping with the garden, almost didn’t survive. Now significantly smaller, it remains in the same pot from two years ago with fresh soil, and the hope it’ll catch up to the others. In the past, they wintered inside in the family room nestled next to light from the sliding door. This last year found them in our small greenhouse until the temperatures dropped into the twenties.


2023



            As the years pass, I notice that while my ferns hold on resiliently, other plants and bushes in our yard and garden have fallen prey to unexpected ice storms and endlessly hot, dry summers. This week a prediction of 104° marks a mid-May day. How can this be? The ferns, sheltered under a tree and given extra water, won’t be harmed, but heat will scorch the new clover I’m trying to establish in the yards. I’ll make certain to place this year’s five dollar plants (Mexican Heather and Orange Lantana) into shaded areas with extra dollops of water added to their soil to make certain they don’t get scorched before they are established. Wish us luck!



2025



March 2026 


Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman


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Tuesday, December 3, 2024

"Return of the Roof Rat"

            Last fall, a family of roof rats decided to take up residence in our home. At first, we’d hear scurrying during the night. The laundry room became their preferred nesting area, and when we pulled the washing machine out of its nook, we discovered the critters had chewed through the drywall, giving them full access to one side of the house.

            “I want them dead!” was my response as David spent a weekend repairing their damage.
            “I think I can catch them,” he replied before he headed to Home Depot to buy everything he needed to build three live traps.
            Almost immediately he caught three juvenile rats, all too young and stupid not to avoid the peanut butter and dog food bait he’d set out. The parents, however, proved more cunning. They chewed through the water hose of our dishwasher, I’m certain, as revenge for their little ones disappearing.
            “I want them dead!” I exclaimed again as another weekend was wasted fixing that damage.
            “I think I can catch them,” David insisted as he changed the bait and location of his traps.
            It took a few more days before Papa rat was trapped.
          But Mama proved to be shrewd and bold. She’d race along the attic at night or scuttle behind walls. One day, we heard her behind the wall between the kitchen and the laundry room. David gave the wall a sound pound to scare her.
            “I want her dead!” I demanded when she chomped her way through that very wall later in the day.
           Sensing that this female possessed an intellect beyond her mate and offspring, we called our exterminator, who sent someone out immediately. Poison and traps went into both attics, and he placed something outside as well. We never saw that mother roof rat again, but the stench of her decay filled our house for days. Another trip to Home Depot led to our discovery of Gonzo products. Soon the reek slipped into memory.
            A few weeks ago, I scolded Koi for digging into the pot of one of my plants. Over several evenings, he managed to pull out the lovely leaves of a large Brazil philodendron, I thought, while trying to see out the front window. Eventually, I shifted the plant outside to protect it from damage. When something disturbed the soil of a second potted plant, I realized Koi wasn’t involved. A search of the living room revealed more roof rat droppings. I called the exterminator immediately, but his first opening was a week away.
            And David pulled out his live traps again while I set out a poison trap in an area that the dogs won’t access. I made certain to put the dogs’ food bowls up on a counter and cover them every night if the contained any food. I moved more plants outside and kept my eyes open. Whereas the last roof rat family contained their activity in one part of the house, this time we’ve seen sign in four different rooms. Either we have another extended family living with us, or one rat that gets around.
            Last night, David changed the bait in one trap to a little slice of orange. This morning, he woke up to find a male rat captured inside!
           Logic tells me that he’s built a nest somewhere, and I suspect he has a family hidden in the attic. I can’t wait until tomorrow when our exterminator arrives. He’ll strategically place traps and poison throughout the house. We will continue to set the live traps, too.  One way or another, we’ll win this battle!

Today's catch!



Copyright 2017 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman 

Saturday, January 8, 2022

“It Takes a Village"



            Texas summers drag long and hot by August, with hurricanes brewing in the Gulf, eyes stayed glued to the coastline. With family living in League City and Bay City, as well as parts of Houston itself, we all pay attention to every tropical depression that tracks into the area. Often, the storms swing towards Louisiana. Sometimes they veer more south. Occasionally, the Houston area gets pounded with winds and rain that results in devastating flooding. My family members switch off on responses to hurricanes. Some years, they evacuate to San Antonio while the next storm they ride out at home.

            After the February freeze and its devastation, all eyes followed every weather event that neared the coastline. Frankly, no one could emotionally handle another hit to any family members. My sister weathered surgery to her vocal cords that left her unable to speak for weeks on end. My brother, with his house finally complete, dealt with his ancient washer deciding to die. Being in another city, I feel helpless when troubles knock on my siblings’ doors. It turned out that I could select new appliances for my brother, purchased them at my local Home Depot, and arranged long distance, for them to be delivered.

            August’s heat smacked other friends and family members with mental health issues. No easy fix of pulling out a credit card and sending a new item to their homes. I had no repair kit for the friend whose drug use had escalated to her having difficulty differentiating between reality and her hallucinating haze. Although I encouraged her to continue with her therapy, and to be honest with her drug usage to her doctor, I left after visits feeling depleted and defeated. I witnessed another woman’s battle with Borderline Personality Disorder deteriorate with every phone conversation, email and text. My mantra with her also became, “Keep in therapy. Keep in therapy.”  I want to help these friends, but their “villages” need to include professionals to help them heal.

            Our backyard refuged me through the boiling August days. Each day started with hose in hand to slay the heat. As I watered each plant or bush, I’d run through the troubles of various village members: surgeries, appliances mishaps, anxiety, depression, loss of hope and loneliness. I realized that I cannot fix every problem, but I can be part of the village to offer support and love.




Copyright Elizabeth Abrams Chpaman 2022