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Good Bye, November

Sunday, December 1, 2013

 I was spoiled. I'd go down to the greenhouse each evening and soak in the warmth and beauty. Whatever had gone wrong during the day receded with that onslaught of all that was right. 

I go down there, just sat down there for a half hour, in fact, with the little white lights on, but it doesn't work very well yet. I bought a blooming pink Christmas cactus, but it doesn't have a smell. I found some green nubbins on my Jasminus sambac, yaaaay!! but they're a long long way from blossoms. I threw out four more geraniums today, and discovered that my old Wonderboom fig bonsai is likely dead. 

 I think it's the tuberoses I miss most, that and the orange hibiscus. And I miss that crazy hot-orange New Guinea impatiens, and the red velvet mandevilla. I think I lost all my Graffiti star geraniums, too including the one that was just the color of a scarlet tanager. Oh, I miss them.

Come on, grapefruit, bloom already. Bloom. Stink this place up.

So in the mornings I go out, looking for something, and I find sweeping snowy landscapes, too snowy for November, but I'll take them.

Better with dog. Always better with dog.

I love this dog. He's watching a car coming, and I'm talking to him saying he can't just sit there in the road, but he doesn't want to walk in the snow to get out of the way. He will when I tell him to. 

We go on, and look at the square shapes of Angus against the light. You don't see wild animals quite that square. We've made them so. Frames for carrying slabs of beef. 

Farther on, hayrolls frosted with snow. There is woodsmoke floating on the air as I look at them, a good clean smell in the cold. We will go a bit over five miles today, looking for things. 

We stop and talk with Mr. Gill, whose female chocolate lab Coco has come out to meet Chet. She's a perfect lady, and he's a perfect gentleman to her. They sniff each other and check each other out, then wag and go about their respective business. No snarling, not much posturing at all. Chet doesn't stand in the T position in front of her, but aligns himself alongside her. Polite. All of which convinces me that he reacts badly to Demon the huge black Lab because Demon has never had a chance to learn proper manners. Demon, an overgrown Baby Huey of a puppy at four, is still making sudden rushes and galumphing and knocking people over, and Chet doesn't like that. He clearly likes Coco. 

Mr. Gill tells me that someone dumped Coco out in front of his house. He took pity on her and took her in. And he's bred her three times, and "I've made $3,000 off her. And I wouldn't take a million dollars for her now." It's clear to me, watching them together, that it's not because she's earned him some money. He loves her. A good end to a bad thing. 

Farther on, we find a slob hunter's dump right by the side of the road, from just that morning. The ribcage and spine and assorted bones of a whitetail. Which is surprising, because it wasn't gun season yet, and bowhunters are usually more environmentally conscious than that. At least he didn't throw it in a stream, the usual modus operandi around here. Yucch.  I hope it will be a nice feast for coyotes or foxes, or even hawks and owls.

Nearby, a gray squirrel has patted around in the snow, looking for where she buried an acorn.

And running back I find the ghost of a burr oak, the stencil of a leaf long gone. 

That's my Subaru with a Christmas tree tied on top. Had to drive up there, stop and photograph it again last evening. I didn't find anything cooler than that on my run that day.

Phoebe said, "Somewhere there's a yellow oak leaf." I hadn't thought of that. 

Speaking of things long gone, here's what happens to a tiny notebook, crammed with song lyrics and poetry, when it goes through the washer, then the dryer. Turns out it gets rid of all the writing. I haven't found the pen's innards yet, but everything in that load has green blotches on it. That's OK. They were all my clothes, and they were all play clothes. Nobody much sees me anyway. I could go around with green blotches everywhere, probably will and nobody will say a word. 

 I do miss the poems and lyrics. 

Guess I'll have to make more.

Can't seem to get out of my own way lately.

I stared at the wadded up ruined notebook for a long time, wondering what had been lost. I'll never know. If I don't write it down, it never happened. There was at least one whole song in there, but I might have it on my iPhone, too. I hope so. Afraid to look. Might drop the phone in my tea or something.

I turned away from the notebook and looked for awhile at my groovycool jewel orchid, which is fixin' to bloom before too long. What a willing, wonderful plant. It's a terrestrial orchid, which means it grows in soil on the forest floor, not up high in the branches as an epiphyte. I figure it could be invasive, given half a chance and the right jungle setting. I saw a lovely orchid with similar leaves growing all over the forest floor at Tikal in Guatemala and was shocked to hear it was from Africa, and was actually a big problem. Whoa. Invasive orchid. I'd never heard of an invasive orchid.

I have a friend who used to tend a huge carpet of jewel orchids at a conservatory, so I know it can spread like crazy. I've started many new plants off this one. You just snap off a stem and dip it in rooting hormone, put it in moist medium and off it goes.

I wish I could put this plant in the greenhouse, where I need it most, but it likely wouldn't appreciate the cold nights.

Then I got down and snorgled on a certain warm puppeh in the sun. He's got his Santa beard on. 

How many kisses does one person need? Clearly a great many. Well that is all right. I am a Pez dispenser for kisses. You kiss on all the white parts.

The peace of not-so-wild things, who smell of popcorn and fresh sunny linens.



I like that -->> "Pez dispenser for kisses" ... he *IS*, isn't he.

Sorry you had such a crappy month ... although you DID HAVE a "PDFK", so it wasn't total crap.

One thing stands out, though ... if you're washing your poetry/songs, your head is not screwed on straight. Take a deep breath. Go visit a few florists in the area ... they ARE open there for Christmas, right??

It's almost January ... garden-planning, catalog-reading, seed-purchasing month. You can hang on 'til January, right ... especially since you've got the pez dispenser :GRIN:



When one thing happens to upset us, it seems that it puts us in a frame of mind where more upsetting things are attracted to us. Just the other day, I had a 24-hour period where I sliced into a finger - twice! - once with kitchen shears, then again on a can lid that I had just opened. Then I got shampoo in my eye in the shower, which made it REALLY irritated. When it cleared up, I managed to get sawdust in the very same eye when I was carrying in firewood. Once again, irritation. *Sigh* Fortunately these were all minor mishaps, but I think that once one starts giving one's attention to the FIRST mishap, it has a snowball effect and attracts more of the same. My mishaps were centered on minor injuries; yours seem to be centered on loss of things you love.

I don't know the answer for certain, Julie. I can only surmise that if one can manage not to lose it over the first event, and to concentrate instead on everything that one is grateful for, that it MAY circumvent this chain of events. Easy to say, but I can't even manage it with minor snags. YOUR first event... well, it's very hard to find the positive in that, I'm afraid. I think in this case, one must use distraction, and think about other, totally different things that one is grateful for -- like Chet Baker! And your lovely children! And the breathtakingly beautiful area that you live in, that bring us all joy when you share these vistas here with us. I thank you for sharing the good times and the bad with us. Every post you make seems to touch me in some way.

I find no better way to start Sunday mornings now than with your blog Julie... oh, plenty of options... just, none better.

November sure did its number on you. And here I thought the green house disaster was the worst--and maybe it is--but losing song lyrics and poems.
My problem with remembering poems, blogs, or plots to unwritten novels is that I think of them in the dead of night, and by morning they have flittered away. I know--keep a tablet by my bedside and write them down. Nope. Can't do that.
Anyway--may the song lyric and poem muse visit you again and bring back all those words from the cloud.

Keep on truckin', Zick.

I was just wondering how to deal with the jewel orchich (just like that one!) that's getting to big for the terrarium I put it in. Now I know. Snap it off and make new ones!

Love all the wonderful photos. I miss all your lovely plants in the greenhouse too even though I've only known them thru your posts.

That leaf in the yellow line is an amazing find. : )

Chet Baker is the snuggliest guy! Please give him a hug and kiss from his friends in Wisconsin.

I love the photos documenting the oak leaf outline in the yellow line
thanks for sharing it...I feel better for having seen it. :)

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