Flit, Buda, Vanitas & Helianthus annuum
Thursday, August 21, 2014
Most might not know
what Flit is or was. Few that do might suspect a connection with Helianthus
annuus and Buddha. But there is a connection of which I will happily expand
upon here via boyhood slingshots.
In the late 40s and
early 50s the miracle insecticide was dichlorodiphenyltrichloroethane or DDT.
In my boyhood Buenos Aires
we called it by the brand name Flit and it came in a can with a plunger that we
simply called “el Flit”. We happily sprayed it on anything without any
compunction. But we were well aware that it was some sort of health hazard.
Because Buenos Aires is by the
Paraná River Delta and by the Río de La Plata we had monstrous mosquito
populations in our humid summers. The only way to fight off the plague
(mosquito screens were not available at the time) was with netting or, better
still with a Buda (Argentine brand name spelling) spiral. The spiral (green it
was) was carefully placed on a metal base that had a spike on which connected
with a hole in the inner spiral. This was placed on the night table (but on a
small dish) and lit. The fragrance of the Buda was not all unpleasant. I had a
scent that was a combination of medicinal and incense.
When I was 21 and
doing my military service in the Argentine Navy, the procedure was to use our
pillows and throw them on the ceiling to kill the mosquitoes before we lit our
Budas.
I was a good shot with
WWI vintage Mauser rifle and the .45 Ballester Molina pistol and I passed all
my Navy marksman tests with flying colours. Perhaps this was because I had been
adept at making (out of bicycle inner tires) slingshots and shooting them at
birds; to be precise, to shoot a bird. I did and killed one when I was around 8
and I remember giving the gorrión (Wren) a burial in my garden and I swore I
would never aim at a bird again.
Occasionally baby
wrens would fall from the trees and I would feed them with eyedroppers. They
invariably died.
One fall I lit a pile
of leaves in the back garden. Then I remembered. I cried out to my mother that
I had burned my turtle to death. My tortuguita liked to hibernate under leaves.
You might by now
suspect that I never hunted animals except once.
It was around 1988 and
I was a tenderfoot gardener in our home here in Kerrisdale. I was furious that
the garden squirrels would eat Rosemary’s expensive tulip bulbs. I decided to find
a final solution. This was a long barrelled replica .357 Magnum co2 pellet gun
I purchased at the 3 Vets sporting goods store. I decided I was going to give
the squirrels a sporting chance by aiming at them without my glasses. I would
surreptitiously open the kitchen door and no matter how silent I was I could
see the squirrels running for cover. But I did get one in mid air. It plummeted
to the ground but it was not dead. I gave the animal its coup de grace. I was
immediately propelled back to the same scene but with that wren back in Buenos Aires. When my
youngest daughter found out about my vicious act she informed me she would
report me to the SPCA the next time.
A few months later
someone broke into our house and stole our CDs and our stereo system and the
gun. At that point I mourned for the CDs and the stereo but I was glad the gun
was gone.
In those early years
of gardening I used toxic chemicals to kill our garden bugs. But little by little
as restrictions for their use began to take effect I resorted to spraying my
roses with the hose to get rid of aphids. I was keen at first in protecting my
hostas with slug bait but then resorted to using water mixed with ammonia which
killed the slugs and fertilized the plants at the same time. Now I just let the
slugs eat the hostas. There are fewer slugs, of course because I don’t water at
night and the increasing July/August drought in Vancouver takes care of most of them.
It would seem that at
this stage of my life when I am about to be 72 I am turning into a de facto/pseudo
Buddhist. When I find wasps in the kitchen I carefully catch them with a cup or
glass and transfer them outside. I feel guilty when I pour water down the drain
to flush down those nasty silverfish that I occasionally see in the bathroom
sinks.
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| Helianthus annuus August 21, 2014 |
At this time of the
year spiders build their webs across garden paths. I walk with a bamboo stick
so that the web might be broken but the spider left alive to build another one.
My guilt on killing
anything alive is not only for animals and insects. I grieve for my plants when
they die and I keep struggling rose bushes that others would turf into the
compost bin. I live on the hope that next year they might do well.
I draw the line with
weeds and I viciously excise them with my secateurs.
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| Vanitas, August 21 2014 |
One of our beautiful
miniature trees, a Robinia pseudoacacia ‘Twisty Baby’ died but from its roots
it had reverted to the much bigger plain Robinia pseudoacacia. A week ago it
was 7 feet high. I looked at Rosemary and we both knew that the tree could not
be in our garden. It had to go. So I cut it down. I feel bad about it. The tree
was fighting for its life by reverting to its origins. I had terminated that.
The only way I can
understand and accept death is in the death of annuals who give it all and then
die but without sowing their seeds for a next-year renewal. I have written
about my eldest daughter’s Lillooet sunflowers before here. I want to celebrate
their short-lived life by proudly showing them off in their prime and in their
decline. I particularly love to do this since I recently discovered the Dutch
17th century art movement called Vanitas of which I wrote about here. In one of the scans here you can see a flower at its best with another without
the bright yellow petals and in decline. Going to seed is not a decline, or is
it? That particular scan is my 21st century version of Vanitas.
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