Invited and Uninvited Guests

My massage lady, Donna,  whose hands are usually just the right degree of pressure were too vigorous yesterday afternoon, hence I am sitting with an ice  pack at 3 am grimacing with each movement. Perhaps I have spent too much time sitting---both painting and reading seem to consume me right now. Last night I finished The Invention of Wings, suggested by Jan Matsuoka. A great read, especially for a feminist.
My new garden is coming alive and thanks to readers Margaret in Sacramento and Alvey in Arlington, Wn, the identity of the mystery fungus in last week's blog is no longer a mystery. It is a morel, considered a delicacy. I'm not quite confident enough to add it to my scrambled eggs, however.
Most of the old roses that were here are now gone, but the one or two remaining are sporting aphids, like last year. Trying to be green as possible I once more invested in lady bugs. Last year's investment was a great success, but this year's offspring seem ambivalent. In fact, so many were already in lady bug heaven when I opened the containers that I coaxed the nursery to replace them. Just to welcome the newcomers I wrote the following:

ODE TO A LADYBUG

Ladybug, ladybug, tea is served

Not with lemon and sugar, methinks

Though to you the aphids devouring my roses

May taste like honey in the Garden of Eden.

I implore you to take seconds, even thirds

In fact I invite you to spend the summer.

For that matter, invite your spouse

And be blessed with hundreds of baby beetles

One day you will all be sated

And fly away to a neighbor’s repast

Meanwhile, I cherish your presence

And rejoice at your voracious appetite.

Ladybug, ladybug, I cherish thee

With your red cloak and beady eyes

And impressive appetite

You make my garden Technicolor.

Transformation

My patience, or impatience if your please, has been rewarded. Finally the few tiny iris bulbs I brought from Oakland have shown their color. They are all the same; a delicate blue with yellow beard. This old gardener who used to be known as the "iris lady" is smiling till the corners tickle her earlobes.

Last Friday night I attended an art show in nearby Sebastopol. As juried art shows go, I thought it was so-so. What took my breath away, though, was a huge vase of iris sitting on the back table. I asked its source and was told that they were from the "iris lady". That got me to thinking, are there iris ladies all over the globe? Am I not even a little bit unique? Oh, I guess not. I guess I have to transform myself to something new.

 Each day now something new to me pops up in my garden. Often it is toadstools! I marvel at their variety and texture. Does anyone know what the specimen below is? It appeared for the first time on Tuesday. I handled it very carefully fearing it might be lethal.

Back From the Bay Area

Getting adjusted to Oakmont again after three days in the Bay Area to attend a watercolor workshop with my wonderful old gang. It was such fun, and hostess Jan Matsuoka spoiled me.Yesterday the landscape contractors finished my yard remodel, to my delight. In another month it should be full of color. To celebrate I bought a new flag with colors more matching the new landscape. Below you see my neighbors Gail and Jim helping me hang it.

 Now if I can just convince the neighborhood jackrabbit to
 chomp about elsewhere.

In Oakland I was distressed to learn of all the muggings, especially in neighborhoods undergoing gentrification. Though I love the safety of Oakmont, part of my heart will always be gazing over those hills at San Francisco Bay. I drove past Cathy Lane four times but deliberately did not meander down the private driveway. After over fifty years I feel like I own almost every curve on Skyline Blvd. I wonder if I'll ever feel more than a casual stranger up here. I mostly know my way around now, but ofter feel like an interloper.

One of the things I did for the second time today was to go to harmonica class, here on the grounds. Though not an aspiring musician, I thought it would improve my weakened lungs. The teacher, Jack, is very inspiring, even though we
are not much beyond Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. Now one has to appreciate that for over fifty years that I lived with
Lee I never picked up even one of her many harmonicas.
How could I? She was a harmonica player extrordinaire.
It seems the third grade teacher at Cornell Elementary in
Albany where she went to school taught all her students to play the harmonica, at the expense of never learning the multiplication tables or cursive writing. When I met Lee she was 31 and carrying flashcards of the sevens and eights in the dash compartment of her 56 red Ford. She would practice at stop lights. She never did learn cursive writing. This seemed to be true of all her classmates as well. But wow, were they ever hits at parties. I often asked myself, "Which is really more important in life?"

I'm practicing on her Marine Band mouthpiece, which must be over 70 years old. My ultimate goal is Freight Train and then maybe someday Danny Boy.

Coming to Life Sowly

Like my garden, my old bod is coming back to life slowly from the March madness of illness and hospitalization. Too slowly, for my preferences, of course. One of the teeny iris bulbs I brought from Cathy Lane is finally showing a tinge of color; I can't wait for it to reveal itself. Meanwhile, I am beginning to attend regular activities here and my sense of humor is returning, at last

For our writing group last night we wrote to the prompt,  "It was a spring day..." Perhaps you will chuckle at this bit of fiction I wrote.
It was a spring day….and I decided the ground was now soft enough to dig a grave.

So I hoisted my shovel and sat out for the spot I’d chosen under the plum tree behind the greenhouse. I carefully removed her body from the freezer in the garage. It was curiously light, for her head had been dissected from her torso, leaving a bloody stump which was now frozen solid, of course.. But her beautiful brown eyes seemed to stare directly at me. They seemed to be saying, “Who did this indignity to me?”

I dug a generous sized hole, lining it with green moss  and decaying leaves before I tenderly placed her  there, eyes looking upward.  With a match I lit some sage, invoking an old Cherokee chant to the spirit of the wind to carry her essence to the four corners of the earth. Reverently I placed large five finger fern leaves over her before gently tamping the soil back down.

My habit of picking up road kill was something few could understand. So I seldom confessed to it . This great horned owl deserved the most reverent departure I could conjure up., don’t you agree?

"March"ing to a Different Drummer

Here it is the end of March, and the whole month stretches out in my memory as an unnamed symphony. What started out as an occasional deep deep cough prevailed till I could no longer eat or sleep or keep food in my gut.
Two different antibiotics produced little relief and on my third trip to the doctors' he sent me directly to Sutter hospital. There they poked and prodded and x-rayed and explained and poked and prodded some more. It seemed my electrolytes were engaged in internal war. Sodium in particular was dragging to the point I should have been having seizures. My lungs were full of fluid, my belly was rebelling and my thoughts delirious. Friends Sue and Jeanne closed up my house and brought me a suitcase of clothes. Six days later I was transferred to Park View Acute Rehab where I malingered another seven days.Many friends called or visited, but most of it is a blur to me.
Now I am home, still with gunk in my lungs, on still a different inhaler and cough meds. My doc says I should be feeling much better by Monday and if not he will send me to a pulmonary guy.
Meanwhile the orders are to eat, drink, and avoid talking. All three challenges to me.  I have no appetite, but I sure am eager to talk. Especially to thank my friends for their caring and devotion. I am not contagious, so I may venture out to Current Events today.
While I was in the hospital, Spring emerged with glowing color and extreme pollen counts. My landscaper came and finished (almost) the back yard landscape. I'm tickled pink, pink and lavender being the primary colors of the flowers in bloom.  Below are some new photos.

Water Surrounds!

Though the drought has not ended, a welcome series of storms has greatly blessed us. In my backyard sit about 40 buckets of plants which will go into the soggy ground on Monday. By then I expect the soil will be just right.
Last weekend I enjoyed two days of water color painting here on the grounds with teacher Birgit O'Conner. The subject was big, bold beautiful flowers. She uses generous amounts of water sloshed around on 300# paper. The class chose to trace and emulate her beautiful hibiscus photograph. She carefully demonstrated every step. Below are some examples of their finished products.

I thought they were all stunning. Being the contrary spirit I am, I chose to do my own from a photo  I'd taken of a yellow hibiscus in Hawaii. I think the result is not nearly as stunning but at least it is my own, and I prefer 120# paper. . 

The second day we chose to  do a photo Birgit had taken of calla lilies. Most of us did not finish, and I expect mine will go down the drain, but it was still fun. Here is patient Birgit teaching us. For her, there is much emphasis on which brush to use for each stroke. (Natural bristle, half and half, or our synthetic). Not something I usually pay attention to, but perhaps I am not too old to learn. 

Back Yard Progress

Yippee! This week has seen much progress on the remodeling of the back yard. Its amazing what four strong men and the right tools can accomplish

The main attraction is the laying down of bluestone granite and stepping stones on the  pathway so that this old lady does not slip and slide as she goes out to smell the flowers. Yesterday they rolled the bluestone with a power roller. What a difference. Smelling the flowers will have to wait for another year, though. With our continued drought we are expecting water rationing; not a good year for planting. I'll have to peruse other's gardens for that inspiration which comes easy in this county of thousands of gardens, vineyards and Luther Burbank enthusiasts.
To top it off, this weekend I'm taking a two day water color class from Birgit O'Conner on big, bold, beautiful flowers.Aren't I the lucky one.