Category Archives: Life reflections

The Undersea Kingdom of Secret Delights

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Jack and I love our 1890s French farmhouse here in southwest Virginia; the bathroom is our least favorite feature of it. Narrow and deep, no windows, a shallow bath and behind the bath a strange wee closet, not wide enough for a gallon of bleach even. In this closet is an open cut to the crawlspace under the house.

We don’t know why. What we do know is that the cats think this space is magical, mystical, and exceeding necessary to their happiness. Ross, our trickster kitty, spent the first three weeks of his life here with us hiding down there. Molly, our matriarch, loves to spend the weekend in this space under the tub. She’s our best mouser, and we have no problem with her plying her trade down there.

Neither of us have been down there – or want to, thanks all the same–but sometimes we hear the pitter patter of vermin feet coming up through the heating vents. So do the cats because (clever things that they are) they dash not to the vent but to the bathroom door.

We can tell the progress of the cats once they access the closet, by assorted bangings in the pipes that connect to the dishwasher and washing machine. Also some mewing coming up a couple of the heating vents.

They can’t get into the heating vents, so we don’t worry about them getting stuck or roasted down there. They CAN get out through the basement hatch, as we discovered one day when Punk clambored up the basement stairs, looking smug and dusty at the same time.

So sure, they’re going after the mice, but I like to think they have a whole kingdom set up down there, a kind of a cool cat night club, complete with speakers, a roulette table, strobe lighting, and of course a fully stocked milk bar. They all go down at the same time after all, and sometimes I swear I catch a whiff of catnip smoke. Well, they’re all of age.

In fact, if they’re playing poker, that would explain why for the past three days Ross has let Molly eat his wet breakfast. He’s in debt up to his whisker lickins.

It’s a good alternative to letting them play outside, sending the kitties to the undersea kingdom of secret delights. I just hope the place doesn’t get raided. What would the neighbors think?

Mushroom Management – –

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Good heavens – this is the latest Jack has been with his Wednesday post – –

Wendy decided that, since I like mushrooms, we should grow them. Well – –

First we got a small pre-seeded pack and got a first harvest. We waited for the second promised harvest until we realized we’d wrongly removed the first lot. So no second or third harvest!

Then we got a larger pre-seeded pack and that’s doing its thing in a dark cupboard with daily spraying of water – we await in anticipation and will be more careful.

Then a friend, who has much more experience, brought us a large tub of sheep shit so we could establish a mushroom bed under a shady tree in our yard. That would need some actual mushroom spores so onto Dr Google. I settled on a company in Maine who seem reliable.

Following the Fedex delivery progress was hilarious –

Maine to Glasgow (that’s Glasgow, Virginia which is just up the interstate 81 from us), then to Charlotte North Carolina (a long way south of us), then to Concorde NC (probably Charlotte airport), from there to Dublin (yep – in Virginia and also north of us on I-81). It finally arrived this morning and is in the fridge until I can prepare its bed.

In case you’re interested I will be using the ‘lasagna’ method – a layer of cardboard, a layer of sheep shit and sawdust, first layer of mushroom spores. Another layer of sheep shit and sawdust, another layer of spores and a final layer of clean dirt.

The only problem I see is that I have to keep watering the bed every couple of days but won’t get any mushrooms until next year!

I used to teach management programs in my old college in Scotland and I was a manager too – there’s a famous style of management called ‘mushroom management’ – – – –

Keep them in the dark and feed them shit – – – –