I thought houseplants were "little beings of happiness" bringing pleasure to one's space.

The biggest reminder that I am living without Lacey is that I am constantly being reminded that I am living without Lacey.  I loved her, and she became past tense way too early in her life.

Those jackrabbit legs propelled her to great heights, conquering the peaks of door tops, the summit above the last shelf of the bookcase, and lofty tops of kitchen cabinets.

The angled leap from the dining room doorway floor to the freezer top in the adjoining room, then climbing the five Christmas wreath boxes stacked next to it to reach the overcrowded shelf above of boxes and cases, and then, of course, stuck, not being able to turn around. 

Next came the cries, calling for the assistance of someone stupid enough to assist.  Climbing up the ladder, one was always hesitant, trying to pick the right angle to grab her and avoid those terrifying razor-sharp talons. 

Nothing could stop her except death itself.  She is so deeply missed.

Having more bad days than good ones has pulled me down a notch or two towards purgatory, but we won’t dwell upon that series of unfortunate events.  I’ve had plenty of misadventures down decrepitude lane as my life is beginning to dissolves into the winter of no return.

In my thirties, I lived in an apartment dwelling of brick and mortar and radiator heating.  With no car, I hitched a ride to work each day, and with no phone, I traveled across the street to the telephone booth for emergencies. 

My kitchen was maybe six feet by six feet, and the kitchen hutch was a cheap dresser in the living room that held most of that which I owned.  Let’s just say it takes money to be materialistic, and in those days, I was extremely unmaterialistic.

The saving grace in all that unluckiness, was the plant stands and plants I brought with me from that unfortunate arrangement that ended sometime after my marriage ended,  Enough said about that.

Autumn crocus slowly going dormant.

Freezing Rain

I gravitated towards houseplant ownership when living on my own, because I grew up with a mom who eventually crowded so many houseplants into our living space that we began to live in propagation hell.  Of course, I exaggerate, but just a tiny bit.

On my own, having cats, well… propagation became cat food, so that ended that.

Not having the internet back then, I grew a bevy of houseplants that could croak a cat in two minutes flat… so my mom informed me.  Eventually metal plant stands stood in front of the windows with plants or bric-a-brac on the windowsills to leave no vacant space for cat paws.

When living in a house became possible, I gravitated towards hanging plants with hemp rope hangers I knotted myself with a few decorative wood or stone beads, a carryover from my younger hippy years.  It was molly bolt heaven with a houseplant or two at every window.

It’s quite unfortunate that none of you out there really knows the timeline of my life to correct me when I write a slightly warped account of my existence.  It’s not a priority with me in this day and age, to remember the details of any of my past. 

Around this time was the four years in Panama, Central America, when all houseplants took a flying leap into a pile of debris at the garbage dump, while I was on my way flying into four years of hellish bliss in a jungle paradise… a time best forgotten.  I do write about it somewhere on this blog.

Then came the dreaded cat tree era, with a cat and a cat tree for one window in every room of the home.  I was a sucker for a homeless ragamuffin with fur and whiskers.  I had become expensively materialistic.  

Of course, the hanging plants went the way of the trash can, I think.  I could fabricate a story and pretend they all found warm caring homes, but even though I tried to always have houseplants in my existence, they were a far cry from being a passion.

'Minnie Pearl' Thick-leaf or Carolina Phlox

emerging through the cover of oak leaves.

Eastern Red Columbine

Henbit

Wild Bergamot Seed Head

First flower in the garden, not counting the weeds; although, 

weed flowers provide plenty of food for the early pollinators.

The name of this daffodil has been forgotten by me.

Present time…

On a whim, upon leaving the doctors office, I asked husband to drive me to Bates Nursery and Garden Center, way north of our location, to look at houseplants.  What a sucker he was to take me there.  I say that in a loving way, poor guy.

I bought three little houseplants, two peperomias and one prayer plant called lemon lime or something like that.  It was cute in a dramatic way.  Peperomias had been in my life before and they are easy peasy to grow.  Prayer plants… I know nothing about prayer plants. 

My two peperomias have been neglected, standing in their four-inch nursery pots on my desk, moving around like pieces on a chess board to accommodate the changes in the prayer plant’s location, whom I would say is queen of the chess board at the moment. 

She’s in a raku plant pot that may be a bit big, but doesn’t look too big, if you know what I mean.  I’m not sure if a different size, that I don’t have, would better suit her. 

I’ve read two hundred thirty-eight versions of how to take and not to take care of Her Majesty until my eyes have crossed and my brain has fried to a crisp.  She’s a humidity glutton, quite demanding in what makes her happy, and slowly developing into a monster with expenses.

A 3D humidity tray was ordered after rocks weighing a ton on a pie plate with water has proven to be difficult to take care of in the long run.  Her set up, at the moment, hogs the territory on my desk.  It looks like half my kitchen is in here, because quite frankly, half of my kitchen has been in here to try out any contraption that might work in her favor.  I GIVE UP!

I’ll get back to you when I know all is hunky dorky, or if Her Msajesty has suddenly taken a flying leap into the trash bin.  Stay tuned.  

This post is linked to:

My Corner of the World

Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day

Whenever I'm sad about me -

- I tell my inner being I am happy, and capable of taking care of myself.  I whisper it in the dark of night as I lay in my cozy bed with all my aches and pains of body and spirit reminding me of how my day really was.  Whether I believe it or not, no matter...the next morning finds me refreshed, ready to meet my new day.

The gardens are drooping under all the weight of the rain that is falling.  A windy day of 64 degrees F. that feels more like 54 degrees, a lovely night of 45 degrees, next a dreary day of off and on rain, then today...rain all day.

Tonight as it rains, the temperatures will begin to drop into the twenties, and that of course equals ice.  I have no fondness of ice ever since I broke my elbow on it, but at times it does provide the possibility of a myriad of photographic opportunities...if one has spiked shoes.  I just hibernate in my cozy arm chair.

- Catching Up -

Lacey has lost more weight, and last Saturday was squeezed into a time slot at her veterinarian.  She is now on an appetite stimulant, and her thyroid medication adjusted.  I was advised to try Churu to get her entire dose of medication lapped up, as to think of pilling Lacey physically is the stuff dreamers are made of.  She's better today, and scheduled for another checkup next week.

After heart and abdomen ultrasounds, and neurology and cardiology consults; Dustin's in stage B2 of Mitral Valve Disease of the heart.  He's on medication to prolong his quality of life.

He has signs that Cushing's disease and Crohn's disease could develop in his far future, but he is also in the earlier stages of kidney disease, so our concerns for a longer life of good quality lies with his heart and kidneys.

As to his episodes of posturing as if in pain but not in pain (we think)…no one could find the answer.  If it worsens to more than once a day perhaps a diagnoses will then be made; but until then, it’s something that happens sporadically that we have no control over.   We love him so much, but we know the path of his life isn’t always in our hands.

I felt I was at the gates of hell waiting to check in, while my dentist was removing five old crowns that fought to the death to stay put.  I don't think anyone ever gets that feeling they're floating in heaven while their sensations cry out that a jackhammer and rock crusher are working on their teeth?

Crusting has become a problem around the edges of the synthetic skin graph on the septum of my nose, which is hindering the healing process.  Prescription antibiotic ointment is now used along with the nasal saline rinses.

Ear and eye tests and a consult with a neurologist's:  his opinion is the tizanidine and Lyrica medications I'm on act as sedatives, and my brain is getting confused.  I take my medicines and then I stay awake when the medication is telling my brain I need to fall asleep.  The static that excruciatingly fills my head with confusion is my brain short circuiting.  I've had to work at taking fewer doses to prevent another occurrence.  It's easier said than done.

- The Gardens -

Wild species daffodils awaiting spring

It's tranquil sitting here with Dustin behind me looking at his world through the dusty front window.  I've been munching on my favorite of seed filed crackers slathered with almond butter and cherry preserves.  A hot cup of Irish breakfast tea makes it all go down quite well.

This morning, what sounded as calls of a hawk flying into the top branches of the tall ash tree, turned out to be a very clever blue jay.  I looked and looked, and there he was pecking away at the branch he had landed on.  I suppose its a ploy to clear the area of smaller species so the space is all his.

A small flock of blue jays followed, and perched in the branches of the blackhaw viburnum, pecking away at the wood they clutched.  I thought it odd, and have no explanation as to why they are acting as if they are woodpeckers. 

The rains have slowed down to light sprinkles, as a gentle stream of rain water meanders along the back stone pathway and around the corner to collect along the prairie patch walkway. 

I’ve tried to capture the beauty of thousands upon thousands of raindrops hanging underneath the branches of everything that is out there, but to no avail.  It’s a delight only my eyes take in as nature wonderfully captures the essences of magic in winter.

- A short Lull in the Rain -

Hibiscus moscheutos  Seed Pod

Just Junk

The last of the old persimmon tree and her copper iris orphans

Coral Berry

Christmas fern among friends

Euonymus americanus

Bubbles with my reflection

Near the rainwater garden

A pond has formed in the rainwater garden

The Mystery of the Foaming Tree

*

I had to research this one.

  As the water flows down the trunk of the tree,

channeled by the bark,

its surface tension is altered,

and that can create a foamy appearance.

Through the Bedroom Window

A grey squirrel with a fantastic coat of fluffy fur appears from behind the ash tree, and leaps up the furrowed trunk with claws holding tight as it flicks its head to and fro in what I imagine is a futile attempt to free itself of rain drops still falling.  He’s up the tree in two seconds flat, and out of sight.

A large rabbit appears from under the juniper shrub, and hops around the pathway bend to the prairie patch and out of sight.  As i gaze ahead, a lone mourning dove hunkering down on the top bar of the large trellis is silhouetted against the grey sky so forebodingly.   

The rains have picked up again.  I have a fondness for rain, although rain here is nothing like the rain of my childhood in the desert.  There it refreshed.  Here it really means business.

I’m taking a very short break (I hope) to give my body a rest from this unforgiving setup my bottom hates at our computer.  I’m in too much pain to continue.  My next post will be from my new laptop unless it figures out a way to temporarily defeat me.

I greatly appreciate all of you, my blogging friends.  You are a gift I cherish more than you may ever know.  Please take care, and stay well this month of the celebration of the existence of love.  We all need a little bit of sweet tender love.

This post is linked to:

Saturday's Critters

My Corner of the World