-snip-
Update to the Nepenthes, it is now also the hunting ground of spiders
Truly the happiest way to end my day, the population of spiders in my kitchen is now at a confirmed 5. Also got three web spinners sitting above and beside my door, in normal conditions they would kill each other because they're too close, but there's enough flying things to go around - really remarkable. I don't know what type of spider this is, but whatever it is, it has noticed flies congregating around the fly-eating pitchers. Let's hope she doesn't fall afoul of her lethal bait (for that matter, I wonder if the spider understands that its life would be in danger if it traveled around the waxy rim). I also suspect some sort of grass spider living in one of the cacti pots, but I haven't seen it yet. There was also a jumping spider I found in my chili plantlings, hunting an aphid that had made its way there somehow. I tried taking a picture of it, but forgot that jumping spiders had great eyesight. Imagine my surprise when she gets camera shy and shuffles behind a chili stalk, before scurrying away to some unknown corner. Adorable little hunter.
It's been about 3 years since my house was arachnidly cleansed of all spiderbros by a quite insane lady with a cleaning OCD, one who was as broken by their presence as I was broken by their absence, and I sorely missed the little house spiders and web spinners. By my superstition seeing them in the morning was good luck, and knowing they were all killed was heavily demoralizing. On a more practical level, no spiders meant a population boom of household moths and flying biting things. Sleep became a relic of the past, nights spent restlessly baking in a sealed tomb, or else getting too skilled at killing fast moving things. They were to quite an extent, driving me insane.
They left scars that to this day still heal. I've tried to make peace with the flying things, but the only peace is through superior slaughticulture. More spiders, more cleansing, more carnivorous plants, I have found them to be more effective than poison.
In a strange way I have found more internal peace in working towards eradicating the flying things than in actually noticing their increasing absence. The nepenthes, pitcher plant, it only lived off of rainwater or distilled water, and required tender care for it to be nourished and grown (and not overfed and killed). Upon bringing it to my abode, I used some rope and lessons learned from maritime improvisation to stylishly attach it to the bars holding up some unused blinders. During the adjustment process (in which I had to quickly learn how to care for a plant that was in its current state, a fish out of water) I lost 3 of the 6 pitcher pots, and during watering I accidentally tore off the lid of one of the pots. I gave it a prosthetic lid made from a waterproof spam leaflet and tape, which helped it live for 2 months before rot overtook it and it had to be amputated like the rest. This left it with one mighty large pot and one lesser pot, both of which were manually fed with flies I caught manually in order to stimulate enzyme and nectar production. I didn't know if this was actually the case, but the alternative was certain death, and fortunately it turned out according to plan (and with some experimental orchid fertilizer portions - the whole plant was flourishing). Went through multiple phases of rainwater collection, sparked by one particularly harrowing two week ordeal where there was absolutely no rain
in a land infamous for being always rainy, forcing me to maximize rainwater collection with bamboo sticks, plastic bin liners, water troughs, rocks, tape and all one day before the heavens opened and provided me with over 6 litres of fresh, pure rainwater I'm still running off to this day.
There was no longer any need to recirculate freshwater runoff from the plant using the recycling apparatus (a water bottle, cut in half, with the top end used as a funnel) which was probably the plant equivalent of drinking its own piss, as the whole purpose of using the freshwater was to drain excess minerals. This success enabled unparalleled plant health and everything was running at optimal condition. Now the runoff is used to fertilize the chili plants, and the nepenthes has gone from the equivalent of a terminally ill patient of an incompetent doctor, to a blind idiot god of ravaging hunger who demands tributes to fly to its mouth and throw themselves down its innards to their suicidal oblivion. The whole machine is running smoothly, and spiders praise the world everywhere.
Deep within this horrible machine, flying things are trapped and dying. For them this matters not, for they are without number, and summer is dark and full of terrors. The chance of drinking of my kitchen's cornucopia of nutrients is to them, something worth dying for. It is not uncommon for me to open my fridge and startle a flock of flying things into the cunning webs of feasting spiders, only daring to sit in full view when the sun goes down and the flying things flock to the lights of the aquarian and its tropical colony of fry, ever hungry for foolish mosquitoes to brave their watery abode. Amidst all this godless destruction of the flying things, I am filled with joy for the life grown on their metaphorical burnt ashes. The families of spiders and the blooming flowery life that has erupted in a cacophony of cruelest and most beautiful nature, graced by the bees whose presence they are aware I have granted full amnesty and support - the bees get along with the spiders, the nepenthes and I, and thus they are forever welcome (for as long as they seek not to make a permanent home of my permanent home). Nice to see them drink from the sunflowers and the orchids, and to see my most ancient cactus return to good health. One of the longer cacti split its head off, and I planted it in the soil to determine if this was one such plant that was capable of reproducing asexually - and it has indeed proved my correct. I can only think of one gardening endeavour that has gone afoul, and it is no great loss to lose 5 lavender clumps - the soil added for their sake can serve another's seedlings.
I have also made a good many true and honest friends recently, with whom I share commonalities rare to find in the great expanse of this ancient city. I thought it was funnier to post about the wonders of cultivating the domestic environment where elsewhere there is such a great abundance of musings on the value of sincere friendship. For the past days it has been truly amazing to meet old friends and new friends to some oatmeal stout, to return home to eat oatmeal, to go out and bants with new friends over London brew, return home to eat oatmeal - as much fun as I had, I am cutting down on expenses and eating with friends is expensive. Thus at home I eat oats, and have learned to replace instant noodles with their raw constituents. It truly is rare to have lived a day without home grown spices... I really must begin growing my own spring onions.
A bit of my rambling, for that I apologise all too late, but this is in full why today I am writing about yesterday's happiness. It is now past midnight and I am enjoying a brew of tea before sleep. Particularly happy to be busy and helping others out, though my efforts there have been mixed - quite hard to help someone who doesn't know what they're doing, but it's wholesome to try your best anyways. Bless these spiders, bless these fragile carnivorous plants, bless these indestructible orchids and hollies, bless oats, and spring onion, tape, and friends you could trust your life with.
Author
Topic: [MILK] There were 12 eggs here what did you do with them? (Happy thread?!) (Read 16272246 times)