At exercise class on Monday, one of our most vibrant members breezed in. Vitality vibrates off her. She walks so fast, she could be a New Yorker, not a native Texan. She runs on the treadmill. She does the eight pound free weights (I currently am at four and starting five.) She is violently curious, indefatigably enthusiastic, and constantly on the go. She hates exercise, she groused once to me. But she had a heart attack a few years ago, so she perserveres.
They had an oldies station on, and the woman on the next mat and I began talking about some of our favorites. Anita breezed up, exchanged a few comments, said, "Bye, Lucy!" and left.
The woman laughed. "Lucy!" she said with another laugh. "That's not my name. She's my neighbor." And, she said, there was a story with this.
Anita is allergic to wasps. I guess it's all the rain, but they are bad this year. About a month ago, Anita came running across the street (not recommended when fearing anaphelactic shock), waving an epi pen in the air.
It was early, and the narrator hadn't even had her morning coffee yet.
"You've got to shoot me," Anita cried. "Shoot me! a wasp stung me."
She pressed the epi pen in her neighbor's hand and promptly dropped her pants.
"Wait a minute," the woman said. "I've never seen one of these before."
She carefully read the directions, took off the lid and plunged--the needle into the palm of her own hand. She had held it upside down. She got the full dose. Anita didn't get any.
Her husband drove BOTH women to the emergency room. Anita was fine. She was treated in time, and felt very well in a few minutes. The woman who had accidently shot herself with the epi pen, however, shuddered and shaked and experienced a rapid
heart rate. She had to stay a couple of hours. She felt AWFUL.
And that's when Anita started calling her "Lucy".
Huh. I have my own ideas about who Lucy is.
But I admit, this woman made an awesome Ethel.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
Home and a Functioning Computer--Sweet!
THAT took longer than expected.
Moving itself took a matter of hours. Basically camping out the first night, I still felt "home" the next morning in a brandnew place. I think, perhaps, because this house is mine after renting for 16 years. I own this space, good, bad or indifferent, and apparently, that makes a difference.
The green space makes a difference, too. The large backyard is just begging for flower beds, and, of course, a vegetable garden. I've gotten some plants out in the front bed particularly, and I have basil, oregano, rosemary, parsely, dill and mint growing for cooking. Between my own family and several friends and new neighbors, I have a steady supply of yellow squash, zuchinni, eggplant, Bell peppers, fresh corn, chilies, and tomatoes.
I haven't really thought about it before, but in this part of Texas, many people, even on suburban streets, have begun raising chickens--most town ordinances allow them so long as no rooster is in the mix to crow and make noise. On my street, roosters are allowed. Why not? We are close to the railroad track and have frequent train whistles we are accustomed to ignoring. A crowing rooster is pretty feeble next to that. The roosters are the administrators of the flock, I find. If no rooster is present, the Head Hen takes over. A young friend, knowledgeable in types of chickens and their pluses and minuses, tells me a Head Hen not only bosses the other hens, she often ceases laying. Too busy, I guess. The eggs are wonderful, and I have three sources to buy eggs--two women charge only $1 a dozen. These eggs are two or three days old at time of purchase. Supermarket eggs are generally four to six weeks old. My fresher eggs beat much higher, and I swear they taste better. And I don't eat them with guilt over the way the birds have been treated to produce my eggs. Good eggs from happy chickens. Makes me smile.
I didn't get my hardwood floors refinished. The price, though fair, was more than I wanted to spend at this time. Maybe later. I'm going to check Home Depot to find out whether polishing has changed since the 1960's, my last time with hardwood floors. Surely so. Meantime, I've bought a Swiffer instead of a dust mop.
The weather has been crazy. More than 100 degrees during most of June, the temperature abruptly dipped just before July, and daily rains came. My grass is brilliant green. It rained so much, in fact, my newly planted flowers gasped, drowned, and are lying flat on the ground at this point. Temps going up again this week, only into the nineties, but the heat index with all the humidity is over 100. As a former resident of New Mexico, I like humidity about as much as most cats like water. (It was a pure shock at age 18 in Dallas when a bead of sweat rolled down my back. At first I thought it was a bug. In New Mexico, sweat evaporates.) All these years later, I am still sweating--in no way "glowing", as ladies were supposed to do. Hoeing and weeding is hot, sweaty work. The trick is to do it before 9 a.m.
My neighbor has made good on his promise to mow my grass. I get eggs for them, too, and share the extra produce, a pretty lackluster return for his work on my behalf. I seem to be making out like a bandit.
I still have four boxes to go, then the task of getting a few rugs and some curtains.
The delay has not been so much due to so many boxes as that I tire of the process and wander off to do something else. Such as writing this. Those boxes are waiting, but I have fresh peaches my DIL brought me to peel, sugar, and freeze, and then need to make eggplant parmesan with the two eggplants a friend brought me.
So I have moved and settled in. Youngest granddaughter came over yesterday after church with a deck of cards to play Slapjack. She had to tell me what to do--I hadn't played it since I was her age. When my friend recently brought me a four-pound zuchinni, I took it to my talented DIL, who whipped up some incredible muffins full of spices and sugar. She sent youngest granddaughter over one morning last week with a warm muffin straight out of the oven. Great start to the day.
I need to buy a new jug and begin making sun tea again. (With hot summer sun, water and tea bags are set in the sun for a couple of hours to gently diffuse a most delicious beverage) My fresh mint will be tasty, too. As a Southwesterner, I prefer cold tea unsweetend for the most part. On really hot, humid days,though, it is delicious with slices of orange, lemon and lime squeezed in with the mint over much ice.
I look forward to having the house "finished". I have a little more time. Then I will begin having folks over in a way, I believe, I never have. Certainly not in the past 30 years. The last third of my life is beginning.
I think I'm really going to like it.
Moving itself took a matter of hours. Basically camping out the first night, I still felt "home" the next morning in a brandnew place. I think, perhaps, because this house is mine after renting for 16 years. I own this space, good, bad or indifferent, and apparently, that makes a difference.
The green space makes a difference, too. The large backyard is just begging for flower beds, and, of course, a vegetable garden. I've gotten some plants out in the front bed particularly, and I have basil, oregano, rosemary, parsely, dill and mint growing for cooking. Between my own family and several friends and new neighbors, I have a steady supply of yellow squash, zuchinni, eggplant, Bell peppers, fresh corn, chilies, and tomatoes.
I haven't really thought about it before, but in this part of Texas, many people, even on suburban streets, have begun raising chickens--most town ordinances allow them so long as no rooster is in the mix to crow and make noise. On my street, roosters are allowed. Why not? We are close to the railroad track and have frequent train whistles we are accustomed to ignoring. A crowing rooster is pretty feeble next to that. The roosters are the administrators of the flock, I find. If no rooster is present, the Head Hen takes over. A young friend, knowledgeable in types of chickens and their pluses and minuses, tells me a Head Hen not only bosses the other hens, she often ceases laying. Too busy, I guess. The eggs are wonderful, and I have three sources to buy eggs--two women charge only $1 a dozen. These eggs are two or three days old at time of purchase. Supermarket eggs are generally four to six weeks old. My fresher eggs beat much higher, and I swear they taste better. And I don't eat them with guilt over the way the birds have been treated to produce my eggs. Good eggs from happy chickens. Makes me smile.
I didn't get my hardwood floors refinished. The price, though fair, was more than I wanted to spend at this time. Maybe later. I'm going to check Home Depot to find out whether polishing has changed since the 1960's, my last time with hardwood floors. Surely so. Meantime, I've bought a Swiffer instead of a dust mop.
The weather has been crazy. More than 100 degrees during most of June, the temperature abruptly dipped just before July, and daily rains came. My grass is brilliant green. It rained so much, in fact, my newly planted flowers gasped, drowned, and are lying flat on the ground at this point. Temps going up again this week, only into the nineties, but the heat index with all the humidity is over 100. As a former resident of New Mexico, I like humidity about as much as most cats like water. (It was a pure shock at age 18 in Dallas when a bead of sweat rolled down my back. At first I thought it was a bug. In New Mexico, sweat evaporates.) All these years later, I am still sweating--in no way "glowing", as ladies were supposed to do. Hoeing and weeding is hot, sweaty work. The trick is to do it before 9 a.m.
My neighbor has made good on his promise to mow my grass. I get eggs for them, too, and share the extra produce, a pretty lackluster return for his work on my behalf. I seem to be making out like a bandit.
I still have four boxes to go, then the task of getting a few rugs and some curtains.
The delay has not been so much due to so many boxes as that I tire of the process and wander off to do something else. Such as writing this. Those boxes are waiting, but I have fresh peaches my DIL brought me to peel, sugar, and freeze, and then need to make eggplant parmesan with the two eggplants a friend brought me.
So I have moved and settled in. Youngest granddaughter came over yesterday after church with a deck of cards to play Slapjack. She had to tell me what to do--I hadn't played it since I was her age. When my friend recently brought me a four-pound zuchinni, I took it to my talented DIL, who whipped up some incredible muffins full of spices and sugar. She sent youngest granddaughter over one morning last week with a warm muffin straight out of the oven. Great start to the day.
I need to buy a new jug and begin making sun tea again. (With hot summer sun, water and tea bags are set in the sun for a couple of hours to gently diffuse a most delicious beverage) My fresh mint will be tasty, too. As a Southwesterner, I prefer cold tea unsweetend for the most part. On really hot, humid days,though, it is delicious with slices of orange, lemon and lime squeezed in with the mint over much ice.
I look forward to having the house "finished". I have a little more time. Then I will begin having folks over in a way, I believe, I never have. Certainly not in the past 30 years. The last third of my life is beginning.
I think I'm really going to like it.
Monday, May 24, 2010
A Moving Experience (couldn't resist the pun)
Things have been busy. I'm packing boxes. My sons are renting a truck Thursday and moving me. This week a man from my church is painting the inside--tan walls, white woodwork, to go with the hardwood floors. He may have to suspend a day to let our hustle and bustle take over.
I wonder how long it will take to UNpack? But it's coming along. I'm disappointed that the temperature is predicted to be mid-90s, but then, it IS almost Memorial Day. It only goes up from here, which is why family is planning to blow in more insulation in the attic ASAP.
So much to do. It really is a nice little house, and I am happy to have all these things to do.
I won't be online until after. Maybe a week or two. Huh. and my computer has Microsoft XP which needs to be updated before July 13. There's always something, isn't there?
When we are happy, that fact is security.
I wonder how long it will take to UNpack? But it's coming along. I'm disappointed that the temperature is predicted to be mid-90s, but then, it IS almost Memorial Day. It only goes up from here, which is why family is planning to blow in more insulation in the attic ASAP.
So much to do. It really is a nice little house, and I am happy to have all these things to do.
I won't be online until after. Maybe a week or two. Huh. and my computer has Microsoft XP which needs to be updated before July 13. There's always something, isn't there?
When we are happy, that fact is security.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
A day to remember
Yesterday was a memorable day.
I bought a house. And my car is NOT totaled. A great deal to do.
I went to a meeting last night with a lot of folks older and much younger than I, and the common trait of all seemed to be awareness of others, and an eager air of curiosity and looking forward. Or maybe I am projecting, but I am too comfortable with these folks not to share a lot of common ground.
My car will be ready in a couple of weeks, and I will begin a new life. There is something to be said for taking out a 30-year loan in my sixties. I most certainly did not encounter age discrimination, gender discrimination, or any other kind.
As I signed my name over and over yesterday, I thought of my dad, considered so liberal and forward thinking because he made a loan to two sisters widowed in WWII without requiring a male relative's signature. In 1948, he let them sign their very own selves to buy their candy shop, Ma-Lee's, and set up in Ruidosa. New Mexico. They did smashingly. Best divinity and fudge I have ever tasted. (sigh) It was a great business.
Yesterday three women--me, the bank officer and the title company representative, sat down to do a little business ourselves. It was a sweet taste of the present and the possibilities for women today.
I bought a house. And my car is NOT totaled. A great deal to do.
I went to a meeting last night with a lot of folks older and much younger than I, and the common trait of all seemed to be awareness of others, and an eager air of curiosity and looking forward. Or maybe I am projecting, but I am too comfortable with these folks not to share a lot of common ground.
My car will be ready in a couple of weeks, and I will begin a new life. There is something to be said for taking out a 30-year loan in my sixties. I most certainly did not encounter age discrimination, gender discrimination, or any other kind.
As I signed my name over and over yesterday, I thought of my dad, considered so liberal and forward thinking because he made a loan to two sisters widowed in WWII without requiring a male relative's signature. In 1948, he let them sign their very own selves to buy their candy shop, Ma-Lee's, and set up in Ruidosa. New Mexico. They did smashingly. Best divinity and fudge I have ever tasted. (sigh) It was a great business.
Yesterday three women--me, the bank officer and the title company representative, sat down to do a little business ourselves. It was a sweet taste of the present and the possibilities for women today.
Friday, May 14, 2010
There I was, just minding my own business...
To be honest, I am procrastinating. But I do have a story to tell.
The most excitement I've had in years occurred at 4:10 p.m. May 12. I sometimes get teased because in a line of traffic, I usually stop 3-4 feet behind the car in front. It paid off bigtime.
Traffic was barely crawling along. The street is only two lanes and needs widening. Texas, like most states in the USA, doesn't have money to build more roads for the increasing population, so congestion is usual. The speed limit is 50 mph, which means you can probably go the limit about 2 a.m.
The teenager pulling out of the nearest side street behind me didn't realize how slow we were moving, just that he had a space of clear street, and he began accelerating. Being an inexperienced driver, when he realized he couldn't stop in time, he thought to pull left, realized he had oncoming traffic, and pulled right. He must have been standing on the brakes.
I heard the screech, glanced into the mirror for a nanosecond before he hit--hard.
And without thinking, I jerked the steering wheel into a hard right and hit the gas, even as the crash propelled me forward. I stopped on the side of the road, about even with the front doors of the car in front. I missed it entirely. Granny still has some reflexes!
He got out and ran forward. "ma'am! ma'am! Are you hurt?" I told him I thought not. I was aware I had banged my knee and the seat belt had burned my neck. I got out my cell phone. I was trembling all over...I had just released mass quantities of adrenaline. I called my oldest son, the policeman. And my voice was teary. He ascertained where I was and said he was on his way. He told me to call 911. I was composed when I called them.
I knew it had been a significant fender bender. Debris was all over the highway.
My bumper was completely dislodged on the ground, barely attached on the right side. Trunk floor crunched, lid as well, but operational, lights and left quarter panel damaged.
The boy was driving a 5- or 6-year-old BMW. It was crumpled back to the engine block. He and his two friends seemed unharmed. We exchanged names and shook hands, and I haven't a clue what his name is. A chance sheriff's deputy passing by stopped and helped with traffic till the dispatched police officer arrived. It looked pretty spectacular, and for awhile, traffic couldn't move. Several people stopped, including a a couple of adults who looked like teachers from the nearby high school.
The police officer gave me the report number and said it would be on file the next day. He also gave me the driver's insurance info. I remember saying at least with the vehicle being a BMW, I didn't have to worry about the insurance.
Both cars were towed. I rented a car and went home. Two mugs of hot tea and a couple of glasses of wine later, I was relaxed. Slept well. Woke up without a twinge.
Found out in late morning that the insurance on the BMW was not in effect.
So there actually is a reason I've been paying car insurance for years, including uninsured motorist. I'm covered. And since I haven't had an accident in forever, my rates won't rise.
Now to cross my fingers that my car won't be totalled, because while a nice car, it is six years old. (Totalled means the price of repairs are higher than the agreed commercial value of the car, meaning the insurance company pays the current value, not the cost of repairs or replacement value.) I have a good chance, though. With care, I expected it to last 20 years. It has 14 to go.
And me, I'm counting on at least another 14 years as well.
Back to packing.
The most excitement I've had in years occurred at 4:10 p.m. May 12. I sometimes get teased because in a line of traffic, I usually stop 3-4 feet behind the car in front. It paid off bigtime.
Traffic was barely crawling along. The street is only two lanes and needs widening. Texas, like most states in the USA, doesn't have money to build more roads for the increasing population, so congestion is usual. The speed limit is 50 mph, which means you can probably go the limit about 2 a.m.
The teenager pulling out of the nearest side street behind me didn't realize how slow we were moving, just that he had a space of clear street, and he began accelerating. Being an inexperienced driver, when he realized he couldn't stop in time, he thought to pull left, realized he had oncoming traffic, and pulled right. He must have been standing on the brakes.
I heard the screech, glanced into the mirror for a nanosecond before he hit--hard.
And without thinking, I jerked the steering wheel into a hard right and hit the gas, even as the crash propelled me forward. I stopped on the side of the road, about even with the front doors of the car in front. I missed it entirely. Granny still has some reflexes!
He got out and ran forward. "ma'am! ma'am! Are you hurt?" I told him I thought not. I was aware I had banged my knee and the seat belt had burned my neck. I got out my cell phone. I was trembling all over...I had just released mass quantities of adrenaline. I called my oldest son, the policeman. And my voice was teary. He ascertained where I was and said he was on his way. He told me to call 911. I was composed when I called them.
I knew it had been a significant fender bender. Debris was all over the highway.
My bumper was completely dislodged on the ground, barely attached on the right side. Trunk floor crunched, lid as well, but operational, lights and left quarter panel damaged.
The boy was driving a 5- or 6-year-old BMW. It was crumpled back to the engine block. He and his two friends seemed unharmed. We exchanged names and shook hands, and I haven't a clue what his name is. A chance sheriff's deputy passing by stopped and helped with traffic till the dispatched police officer arrived. It looked pretty spectacular, and for awhile, traffic couldn't move. Several people stopped, including a a couple of adults who looked like teachers from the nearby high school.
The police officer gave me the report number and said it would be on file the next day. He also gave me the driver's insurance info. I remember saying at least with the vehicle being a BMW, I didn't have to worry about the insurance.
Both cars were towed. I rented a car and went home. Two mugs of hot tea and a couple of glasses of wine later, I was relaxed. Slept well. Woke up without a twinge.
Found out in late morning that the insurance on the BMW was not in effect.
So there actually is a reason I've been paying car insurance for years, including uninsured motorist. I'm covered. And since I haven't had an accident in forever, my rates won't rise.
Now to cross my fingers that my car won't be totalled, because while a nice car, it is six years old. (Totalled means the price of repairs are higher than the agreed commercial value of the car, meaning the insurance company pays the current value, not the cost of repairs or replacement value.) I have a good chance, though. With care, I expected it to last 20 years. It has 14 to go.
And me, I'm counting on at least another 14 years as well.
Back to packing.
Monday, May 10, 2010
When You Get So Much More Than You Pay For
I have had a new job this last month, and yes, I'm paying for the privilege.
It's called Buying a House, something I never expected to do again. This week we should close. I'm starting to pack. Arranged the electric today. Have to nail down the house insurance.
It's been so long since I was an owner, I qualify for firsttime buyer bonus.
It's a little house, perfect for one or two, although I am sure a whole family could be fitted in comfortably should someone wish. Hardwood floors. A large, screened front porch. A big deck, which faces west and won't get much use until fall, when I hope I have a table and chairs for outdoor eating after summer heat gets below 90 degrees--around October.
A large backyard. Small front yard with some nice plantings and trees. The neighbor who is selling it has promised to continue mowing.
I asked my son for a gate in the backyard fence, because that fence separates his larger home from my new home. The gate will facilitate passage back and forth for all of us.
I do not have a big fortune, but I have some savings. I also haven't had a credit card in seven years and haven't had a time payment in more than ten. And yes, I have had to work hard for this. I have considered this my job. What the banker has wanted, I dropped everything else and got it. Twice, I was sure I wouldn't get it. Each time the glitch resolved. And they were big glitches. Actually, they were problems I couldn't do anything about but pray. So I did. Each time I was at peace with whatever the outcome would be. And we have gone forward.
I'm nervous about talking now, before we close, but you know, I'm going to (or as we say here in Texas, "I'm fixing to") be really really busy, and when I move, I'm going to be offline a week or more while I change service.
I look at the future and I see so much I'm going to have to do. And I'm joyous.
My paternal grandmother was really mean to my mother, so much so that Mother told me once to make sure I lived across town from my inlaws. And yet, when my mother was a widow and slipping into illness herself, she went over every evening to pick up my grandmother and brought her home for the night when my grandmother became afraid to stay alone at night. My grandmother looked at me with wonder when I came home from college to visit. She told me how kind my mother had been, when she had been so mean to her. She asked God, and my mother, to forgive her, and she cried a little. She was at peace.
I was thinking about that yesterday. Wasn't I lucky? Maybe my mother's legacy has made me someone who my daughter-in-law actually wants to live next door. I am very honored. My son is delighted. My granddaughters already refer to it as "grandma's house." My younger son anticipates the happiness with which my granddog will explore the fenced lawn.
I know it is doable to grow up without security and support and become an adult who can be kind and supportive to others. It is easier if one has grown up with a good role model, or two, or three. But I have friends who grew up with the bad example and turned away from it to find a more satisfying, happier way to live.
Multi generations are important. While not the majority, many families choose to live together with three or even four generations together. I know a good half dozen with side by side homes like we will have, many others with a suite or outbuilding on property for the grandparents. I knew a family where the woman had her adult daughter and granddaughter living with her and her husband, and also her mother, who was quite active. The toddler was taught to call the oldest family member GiGi, or really, GG for Great Grandmother. I thought that was charming.
The grandparents died off early for my sons, and I always thought they missed out. My granddaughters have three grandmothers, a grandfather, three uncles and an aunt. Whew. They have a richness of love and connections.
Soon, one of those will live next door. I promise to do my best in the years to come to contribute as much as possible to the happiness we all feel today.
I can't wait to find out what comes next.
It's called Buying a House, something I never expected to do again. This week we should close. I'm starting to pack. Arranged the electric today. Have to nail down the house insurance.
It's been so long since I was an owner, I qualify for firsttime buyer bonus.
It's a little house, perfect for one or two, although I am sure a whole family could be fitted in comfortably should someone wish. Hardwood floors. A large, screened front porch. A big deck, which faces west and won't get much use until fall, when I hope I have a table and chairs for outdoor eating after summer heat gets below 90 degrees--around October.
A large backyard. Small front yard with some nice plantings and trees. The neighbor who is selling it has promised to continue mowing.
I asked my son for a gate in the backyard fence, because that fence separates his larger home from my new home. The gate will facilitate passage back and forth for all of us.
I do not have a big fortune, but I have some savings. I also haven't had a credit card in seven years and haven't had a time payment in more than ten. And yes, I have had to work hard for this. I have considered this my job. What the banker has wanted, I dropped everything else and got it. Twice, I was sure I wouldn't get it. Each time the glitch resolved. And they were big glitches. Actually, they were problems I couldn't do anything about but pray. So I did. Each time I was at peace with whatever the outcome would be. And we have gone forward.
I'm nervous about talking now, before we close, but you know, I'm going to (or as we say here in Texas, "I'm fixing to") be really really busy, and when I move, I'm going to be offline a week or more while I change service.
I look at the future and I see so much I'm going to have to do. And I'm joyous.
My paternal grandmother was really mean to my mother, so much so that Mother told me once to make sure I lived across town from my inlaws. And yet, when my mother was a widow and slipping into illness herself, she went over every evening to pick up my grandmother and brought her home for the night when my grandmother became afraid to stay alone at night. My grandmother looked at me with wonder when I came home from college to visit. She told me how kind my mother had been, when she had been so mean to her. She asked God, and my mother, to forgive her, and she cried a little. She was at peace.
I was thinking about that yesterday. Wasn't I lucky? Maybe my mother's legacy has made me someone who my daughter-in-law actually wants to live next door. I am very honored. My son is delighted. My granddaughters already refer to it as "grandma's house." My younger son anticipates the happiness with which my granddog will explore the fenced lawn.
I know it is doable to grow up without security and support and become an adult who can be kind and supportive to others. It is easier if one has grown up with a good role model, or two, or three. But I have friends who grew up with the bad example and turned away from it to find a more satisfying, happier way to live.
Multi generations are important. While not the majority, many families choose to live together with three or even four generations together. I know a good half dozen with side by side homes like we will have, many others with a suite or outbuilding on property for the grandparents. I knew a family where the woman had her adult daughter and granddaughter living with her and her husband, and also her mother, who was quite active. The toddler was taught to call the oldest family member GiGi, or really, GG for Great Grandmother. I thought that was charming.
The grandparents died off early for my sons, and I always thought they missed out. My granddaughters have three grandmothers, a grandfather, three uncles and an aunt. Whew. They have a richness of love and connections.
Soon, one of those will live next door. I promise to do my best in the years to come to contribute as much as possible to the happiness we all feel today.
I can't wait to find out what comes next.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Spring is Sprunging
I see the drift of falling white and smile.
On only March 21--the first day of spring--it was snow. Today it is crabapple petals.
When I step outside, there is a constant buzz. The bees are so happy and busy. Out my back door is a sea of several hundred purple iris. I'm not that fond of the plant, but right now they sure are pretty.
December through March had a preponderance of cloudy days and rain. Now suddenly the temperatures are normal and we actually could use a little rain. Gardeners have finally gotten their seeds and potato eyes and green onions in. It is time for the squash and beans. A couple of weeks and the okra and tomatoes go in.
Texas is a big state, but our tomatoes are mostly small. We can't grow Beefsteak or Big Boy or whatever tomato that will cover a slice of bread with a single slice. We get too hot too soon. Porters, grape tomatoes, Romas, Celebrities, Carnivals, these do well. Anything smallish to middle-sized will continue to produce some in 100-degree weather.
I had to laugh the other day leaving my son's home. My daughter-in-law had bought green onions for a dish she was preparing and had several left over. She simply plugged them into the dirt of one of her patio planters. They have gotten hearty and healthy on their way to becoming fullsize white onions.
I like to eat, and I love fresh produce. But my real love is the flowers. Bluebonnets are spectacular is south Texas this year, I hear. I love Indian Blankets, Texas primroses, wild larkspur,fairy cups, yarrow, painted daisies, paintbrush in red, yellow and white. The wildflowers are a wonderful dividend in Texas, sometimes stretching in a colorful blanket as far as the eye can see. Once you get out of the Metroplex, of course. But we have our fields--no, not meadows--in the complex of many cities and highways and buildings as well. The redbud was spectacular but went really quickly, less than two weeks.
Texas doesn't do fruit trees so well. We have a lot of peaches in certain locations, but the clay soil right here carries cotton root rot, which kills many of the trees. It is a fungus found in clay and the reason cotton no longer is grown in central Texas. Small apple trees do pretty well, but cherries don't grow at all. We have some areas to grow strawberries, blackberries and blueberries. Others, not so much. Apricots don't thrive. On the other hand, pecans do well. We get a fair amount of pistacios from New Mexico. We like our pecans because they are sweeter than walnuts. and they are what we are used to. Parker County peaches will come in July, and we will flock to buy them, peeling and sugaring and freezing some for later. We don't usually have vidalias, but we have 1040s, which are sweet onions. We have all kinds of peppers--banana, Bell and chiles of all kinds. Green beans. Pintos. Blackeyed peas. Sugar snaps but no English peas.
I try to buy organic when I can and always cook from scratch, avoiding the high sodium and preservatives. It balances out some of my bad habits, I think. I used to buy a popular cooking magazine until I realized every recipe pushes some prepared product high in sodium and products. Tsk, Tsk.
I will fix a fresh garden salad for lunch when I get back from the store. I need to drive the block there and get some more cigarettes. With the windows up to block the pollen from all these blooming plants.
Yeah. I have a lot of bad habits to balance.
On only March 21--the first day of spring--it was snow. Today it is crabapple petals.
When I step outside, there is a constant buzz. The bees are so happy and busy. Out my back door is a sea of several hundred purple iris. I'm not that fond of the plant, but right now they sure are pretty.
December through March had a preponderance of cloudy days and rain. Now suddenly the temperatures are normal and we actually could use a little rain. Gardeners have finally gotten their seeds and potato eyes and green onions in. It is time for the squash and beans. A couple of weeks and the okra and tomatoes go in.
Texas is a big state, but our tomatoes are mostly small. We can't grow Beefsteak or Big Boy or whatever tomato that will cover a slice of bread with a single slice. We get too hot too soon. Porters, grape tomatoes, Romas, Celebrities, Carnivals, these do well. Anything smallish to middle-sized will continue to produce some in 100-degree weather.
I had to laugh the other day leaving my son's home. My daughter-in-law had bought green onions for a dish she was preparing and had several left over. She simply plugged them into the dirt of one of her patio planters. They have gotten hearty and healthy on their way to becoming fullsize white onions.
I like to eat, and I love fresh produce. But my real love is the flowers. Bluebonnets are spectacular is south Texas this year, I hear. I love Indian Blankets, Texas primroses, wild larkspur,fairy cups, yarrow, painted daisies, paintbrush in red, yellow and white. The wildflowers are a wonderful dividend in Texas, sometimes stretching in a colorful blanket as far as the eye can see. Once you get out of the Metroplex, of course. But we have our fields--no, not meadows--in the complex of many cities and highways and buildings as well. The redbud was spectacular but went really quickly, less than two weeks.
Texas doesn't do fruit trees so well. We have a lot of peaches in certain locations, but the clay soil right here carries cotton root rot, which kills many of the trees. It is a fungus found in clay and the reason cotton no longer is grown in central Texas. Small apple trees do pretty well, but cherries don't grow at all. We have some areas to grow strawberries, blackberries and blueberries. Others, not so much. Apricots don't thrive. On the other hand, pecans do well. We get a fair amount of pistacios from New Mexico. We like our pecans because they are sweeter than walnuts. and they are what we are used to. Parker County peaches will come in July, and we will flock to buy them, peeling and sugaring and freezing some for later. We don't usually have vidalias, but we have 1040s, which are sweet onions. We have all kinds of peppers--banana, Bell and chiles of all kinds. Green beans. Pintos. Blackeyed peas. Sugar snaps but no English peas.
I try to buy organic when I can and always cook from scratch, avoiding the high sodium and preservatives. It balances out some of my bad habits, I think. I used to buy a popular cooking magazine until I realized every recipe pushes some prepared product high in sodium and products. Tsk, Tsk.
I will fix a fresh garden salad for lunch when I get back from the store. I need to drive the block there and get some more cigarettes. With the windows up to block the pollen from all these blooming plants.
Yeah. I have a lot of bad habits to balance.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
