Two of my favorite people share today as a birthday. One is Forgottenman, who has, I hope, already received his photo tributes via Jibjab, but now I’m thinking about my Mother, who would have been 110 today if she had lived.
Recently I read a letter where she mentioned how when I was a baby I used to pick the heads off flowers and bring them to her. Misguided then, as I still am now in some matters, I have nonetheless learned to leave the flowers where they grow. I took a little walk in my garden today, Mother, imagining you were here with me, seeking out the flowers that are less profuse now than they were a few months ago.
Winter comes to Mexico as well, and although it cuts a less-wide swath, our cold snap seems to have inhibited the hibiscus and even the poinsettias, that should be fully in bloom by now. This is what you would have seen if you had been able to take my walk with me. If you click on the first photo, all of the photos will enlarge and you can go through them as a slide series and also read their captions:
This little begonia is easily overlooked.
Berries on the heavenly bamboo will need to substitute for holly.
This orange thunbergia is beautifully invasive.
The lipstick plant seems to bloom year round but is hard to photograph.
This is the one vibrant rose-colored hibiscus that hasn’t chosen to stray over to my neighbor’s side of the wall.
All of my jade plants are flowering, many of the blooms gone to seed.
This is the only hibiscus presently blooming, other than the large bush next to the wall, where most of the blooms are growing on the side that droops over my neighbor’s wall.
These thunbergia are on of the hardest flowers to photograph. I don’t know why.
Morrie and Diego are very interested in this new little rock garden at the junction of the two brick pathways because it was a section they used to pretty consistently dig up, either to eat grass or to bury their bones. Now they are somewhat mystified by what has sprung un in their playgeround, even a month after the planting.
I almost missed these papaya blooms. In another month I hope to be eating the fruit beneath them.
A vine on the post supporting the terrace roof had grown so big that it totally blocked off access to the sidewalk from the terrace. Going down to turn off water to the pool, as a result, was a tricky and dangerous business, especially at night, when I had to step off onto an uneven area of dirt and plants. I also had a whole set of lawn furniture I couldn’t use because the yard incline was too severe, the back legs sunk into the dirt, and I tipped over backwards when I sat down on them. Lastly, the junction of the two brick pathways had become a favorite digging site for the dogs. Solution? A little brickwork and a few plants.
Please click on first photo to see captions and enlarge all photos.
The maestros at work.
Wedding of the ways.
Parting of the ways.
Fourteen small shrubs and a few smooth stones filled out the junction
Morrie and Diego no longer dig. But they find the manure in the dirt very tasty. Then they come up and kiss their mom on the lips. No, I’m not a volunary recpient, but they are fast.
Payday makes for a happy maestro
I meant for this to be a bit more irregular. I can’t decide if it looks more like a footprint or a peanut.
A place in the shade. Scrabble, anyone?
(This post was done at the request of Forgottenman, who has been dying to see what is going on.)
Look at all those spendthrifts paying for the view as though it is a contest to spend their cash anew on hotel after hotel, on safaris, tours and cruises–— climbing up Mount Everest, amassing scrapes and bruises. I’ll keep my money in my pocket. I’ve worked for it too hard, and simply do my viewing here in my backyard.
If I were a golfer, I fear there’d be no putting, for my grass is lush and verdant— badly in need of cutting. Meanwhile, the bougainvillea has gotten out of hand. It’s like a barbed wire jungle—every twisted strand. If I were more rambunctious, I’d grab work gloves and scramble to gas up the mower and to tackle every bramble, but those days of industrious gardening are far back in my past. Those Olympian feats of plant and tend simply didn’t last. Instead I lie here in my bed growing and trimming words. Outside, through the curtains, I hear the wakening birds. I hear the front gate opening, make out the squeak of wheels. Is there a single reader who detects how good it feels to just fluff up the pillows and type on throughout the dawn as Pasiano trims the thorny vines and mows the blasted lawn?
Happy May Day!! No Maypoles in Mexico. Here it is celebrated as Labor Day which means no one works. Ha. I, however, will not use that as an excuse to shirk my duty. Here is a shot of Morrie and Diego enjoying the pleasures of the back yard. Diego sips from the biggest water dish in the world as Morrie seems to be in the act of sitting down, rather awkwardly, I might add. In the foreground, the last of the poinsettias, in the middle, a plumeria/frangipani tree in full bloom, cactus, various bougainvillea, Virginia creeper and palms. This is the view from my writing desk. Not my usual flower closeup..
And the jungle side of the view.
I always love Cee’s peonies. You can see one HERE.