LUCK OF THE DRAW

" 

THE MORNING was chilly. The rain-dampened sidewalks dried in time for the invited pastors to assemble for lunch at the Manor and the dining room was filled with people of the cloth. Pray tell, where were the residents to dine? Downstairs, that's where. Tables had been set up, part of the kitchen crew were serving.......dinner went off without a hitch.

  

The special Manor salad was followed by pork loin garnished with apple slices, roasted potatoes and a medley of vegetables. Dessert was a maple pumpkin cheesecake topped with almond brittle. Sigh....................


Each table held two centerpieces of posies in the colors of autumn which were raffled off after we ate. Mr. Bob was one of the lucky winners, such a rarity for us. Aside from the bi-weekly Bingo evenings, we've rarely been prize winners.

The Powers That Be could have just told us they were sorry for the inconvenience; instead, each place setting had a note of thanks signed by the executive director and the CEO along with a golden box holding one delicious chocolate truffle.

There were a lot of centerpieces to be won and by the time Cindy got to the grand prize, I wasn't paying much attention. Somehow the winning number penetrated my subconscious. Did she say "4-9-3"?
It didn't seem within the realm of possibility but sure enough, that was the number on my ticket. I'd won a catered dinner for up to ten people!

It's a sign to me that, high risk or not, I HAVE to come through my Halloween surgery, somewhat intact, to collect my winnings.

"Forget the lottery. 

Bet on yourself instead."

                                                                         Brian Koslow

TULIPS

I'VE KNOWN PEOPLE who say that cut flowers remind them of funerals. Maybe it all has to do with childhood and I can't even recall the first funeral I attended, but I don't associate flowers with it particularly. Thank goodness!




When we meet for lunch,  Susie usually brings me a bouquet from her bountiful garden. She has a knack, not only for gardening, but for putting form and color together in informal arrangements that please me no end. Thank you, dear Susie!

Once in a while I yearn for a clutch of tulips. I rely on Trader Joe's to supply me when the urge strikes. There's something about the way that tulips rearrange themselves, seemingly during the night, that fascinates me. And did you know that they continue to grow once in water? Therefore, the arrangement gets taller and when the flowers droop to one side, I'm in heaven.

Now about the other Tulip......the Bedlington Terrier that's in Tim's life. It's an interesting situation in that the dog is owned by a friend who lives in an apartment that doesn't allow animals, so Tulip lives with Tim at night, but is picked up by the friend on his way to work at his dog grooming establishment. When Tim walks Tulip, they are continuously stopped by people who ask about the breed, never before having seen a Bedlington which for all the world, does resemble a little sheep. 


Forty-nine years ago, while Tim was in utero, we bought a full-grown Bedlington. Buddy came from a family of adults and didn't much like sharing attention with our children. He lasted three weeks in our household until we were forced to admit that it wasn't a good match and returned him to his former owners. I don't think we even asked for a refund, in the shame of our failure.

In the years she's lived with Tim, Tulip has barked only once. She's a most unusual being (don't we all say or at least think that about our children?) For instance, at Christmastime, Tim puts antique toys under his tree. To the side is a basket with Tulip's toys in it. With no training whatsoever, Tulip helps herself to her playthings, but never touches the other treasures. We're not altogether sure whether it's brilliance or possibly the other end of the intelligence scale. No matter, we love Tulip for who she is.


The poignant part is that Tim's friend has just purchased a condo. It's a place that allows animals.

In other words, Tulip will be going away. It makes me sad to think about it.

“Lamott is an unstoppable storyteller, whether writing about church-going with a sullen adolescent or reconciling with her late mother. She rages against the Iraq war but takes comfort from her sage-like Presbyterian minister, who says faith is not about how we feel; it is about how we live. ... Rule 1: We are all family. Rule 2: You reap exactly what you sow, that is, you cannot grow tulips from zucchini seeds. Rule 3: Try to breathe every few minutes or so. Rule 4: It helps beyond words to plant bulbs in the dark of winter. Rule 5: It is immoral to hit first.”

Anne Lamott

PURPLE

IT'S THE PURPLE TIME of year in Southern California and according to a flickr friend who lives in Spain, it is there, too, for it's the season that the jacaranda trees bloom.

They make a statement, standing out against the darker greens of normal trees

As the flowers mature, they fall and carpet the ground beneath them and because there are 2 sides to every coin, the fallen blossoms can be a bit nasty when tracked inside.

I know that, for when Once Upon a Time was on the corner, we had a jacaranda tree just outside our door.

In the view we have from our 4th floor window, I watched a distant cloud of grey turn, day by day, into a billow of purple.

I once, on half of a postcard, painted by memory my rendition of jacaranda trees,
In that memory they signal the end of the school year and I recall seeing them as we drove to the harbor to board a ferry headed for a week on the island of Catalina. Funny how certain impressions linger.

Cañada Blvd. is lined with purple loveliness this time of year. We may not have the raging fire of color that New England rightfully boasts about in the fall, but we can claim purple Junes in our neck of the woods.

VOLUNTEER

I MENTIONED YESTERDAY that I no longer can take photographs while driving, now that I'm the driver. There are exceptions once in a great while.

The red light was long enough the other day that I could feverishly whip my little camera out of my purse and snap this before the light turned green.

It made me very happy to capture a volunteer snapdragon growing blithely in the median strip near a busy intersection. God in action.

GARDENS PAST & PRESENT

WE LOVE EVERYTHING about living here at the Manor and have not once been sorry we made the decision to make this our home. But in April and May my mind wanders back to the garden we used to have. It was at its peak in the Spring of the year even if it did get a little rag-tag in the other seasons. Mr. Bob had come to the place that working in the garden no longer brought him any pleasure. When my knees quit working, I was mostly a "purchase and point" kind of gardener, although bending double, I was still pretty good at weeding, in spite of worrying about looking like one of those tacky folk art pieces some people find amusing.

Here's what I miss: The jasmine perfumed the whole garden and the purple petrea which covered an arch was breathtakingly beautiful and as it dropped its flowers the ground below became studded with little lavender stars. I know for a fact that the new owner saw fit to take out the white wisteria. And I'm smart enough to know that when one sells a property it can't possibly remain the same. 

I need to keep my memory honest and recall that, as with so many things in my life, the garden had great potential but was usually in a state of disarray, but I did love going out each day to look at each and every plant to see the changes Mother Nature  had accomplished. 

And then I need to remember that the gardens at the Manor are beautiful and nicely maintained. Never mind that there's not a stand of sweet peas to pick each day or tomatoes to watch develop or forget-me-nots gone wild and filling spaces in the garden beds with that special pale blue color.  I no longer need to put out snail bait or, as I did one year, gather the creatures to take to a nearby park. 

There may not be any of the David Austin roses I loved so much, but I can enjoy the rose bed here that's cared for by someone else. Black spot and aphids are not something I need to worry about.....someone else will tend to those things, should they occur.

And I have a special friend who, when we lunch together a couple of times a month, brings me a bouquet from her lush garden. 

How fortunate I am to receive such beauty! And I've discovered that our east facing window is just right for African violets. 

So, there'll be no more pouting about the garden that was. I have a funny story to close with. Years ago I attended a luncheon at our local Descanso Gardens. The featured speaker was English  gardener and author, Christopher Lloyd. He asked how many in the audience (many of them society ladies) were active gardeners. Many well-manicured hands were raised. He then said, "I'll be around after lunch to check your fingernails." 

  

VIEW FROM 412

IT'S NOT EASY working "mesembryanthemum" into a sentence, but I just did.

TMI

The season isn't even right for this entry, but if you stick with us, you'll learn more about poinsettias than you either wanted or needed to know.

I was inspired by seeing this group of plants about to be put out to pasture or whatever in the world gets done with poinsettias after the holiday. One year when I had the store I took the time to cut each bract (what we think of as petals, only they aren't) into a heart shape, thereby creating a Valentine plant. We in retail dash from one holiday to another and Valentine's Day comes next.



And then, right around the corner from the Manor parking lot, I spied this which used to be a common sight in Southern California before the Birds of Paradise took over the title of the ubiquitous plant of the area.


Our own potted plant which Nadine gave us ahead of Christmas, is ending its life in an unusual manner. It's dropping one leaf at a time, one bract at a time, but as long as it holds on, I'm going to leave our little cheerful wooden sign leaning against the pot.

Actually, it may end up being a Valentine's Day plant.

We visited the nursery in Encinitas which produces many of the world's poinsettia plants. It was mind boggling. Mr. Bob and I were too busy deciding which plant to buy to take time to sit on the poinsettia throne, but I snapped a picture of it when 2 of the ladies on our outing took advantage of the opportunity.

Nearly everyone buys such a plant for himself during December. Even the carwash (above) and most of the households of my acquaintance. I used them in quantity in the store and used to fret a bit lest a child ingest part of a plant but of late we're told that poinsettias are not poisonous. Whew!

I had Mr. Bob dig out our copy of a Leo Politi book entitled "The Poinsettia". He's so good natured when I ask that sort of thing of him. It was not an easy task and he did it with no complaint whatsoever. I'd have said, "You want me to do WHAT?" He's a far better person than I am.

 The book chronicles many of the holiday celebrations that take place in and around Los Angeles. To think we purchased this book 40 years ago when it seems just yesterday. That's the sort of thing you hear a lot at the Manor as we oldsters wonder where in the world the time has gone. It's a reminder to make the most of each and every day.

If you progressed this far, you're a trooper. Many thanks.