Plants of happiness

I'm really enjoying the plants I have in my little house and yard. One of my newest is this orange tree we bought on sale because the nursery had left it out during a freeze, and all the leaves were frosted off. They're coming back to life and looking very nice now:


I'm really pleased with this one, because I thought I had lost it. I had planted this avocado seed, which had sprouted into a little tree about three inches tall, and an unexpected frost seemed to have killed it. But recently, when I went out to pull weeds in preparation for my spring garden, I found that it had survived, and sent up a new shoot:



Notice to the right is a new baby plant that I was trying to replace it with - another seed.

And finally, my little potted ocotillo. Sonya, my caving friend from from the Dallas area, shared a cutting from her ocotillo a few years ago, and I put it in cactus potting soil, and carefully misted it until it could grow some roots. It hadn't leafed out in a while, so I was afraid it was dead this time, but you never know with ocotillo, and it leafed out again to my delight:



I love plants.

Rain drops

I like rain. I like the sound of thunder, especially rolling thunder. It's like having a really good outdoor surround sound.

But I especially like rain because it's so much better for the lawn and garden than the water from my yard hose. Plus, I don't have to pay for it. Plus, it cools everything down so that my electric bill goes down for a while.

I am alone this weekend, because GA is off on a business trip to Louisiana (motto: a corrupt, yet delightfully unrefined government), so I'm here taking care of the cat. On a whim, I took the pickup out for a short drive to the nearby fruit market to buy two tomatoes and an avocado. Avocados are always good here, for some reason. Rich, smooth, creamy. And I made my entire lunch out of it - not bad for $1.89, eh?


Now, I can make an awesome guacamole, but if it's just me I like to do the simple 'cado prep. You just cut the avocado in half, remove the pit, and fill the seed cavity with lime or lemon juice. You can actually eat it out of the skin, but if you're at home, just scoop it out into a bowl. Add salt to taste, mash it up, and serve on crackers. Yum!

Now, for some time I have made it my practice to stick all avocado seeds into the ground in my garden. Sure, most of them have been irradiated to control pests, and I have no problem with that, but once in a while you get a virile young avocado seed, and it will sprout. I did this in Wichita Falls and then again in Midland, and they look kind of neat just sticking up out of the middle of the black eyed peas.



But here in Houston, I have the added hope that it doesn't freeze here every year. The plant could actually become a tree. Now that could be problematic if I get caught, because I don't think the avocado tree is on the approved list in our HOA. But I figure by the time it gets tall enough that my neighbors will even see it, it will be too late for anybody to object. Besides, each of my neighbors has a yappy dog, which is against the HOA rules, too, unless you keep them quiet, which is impossible.

So before I even mixed in the lemon juice, I took the seed out to the backyard and shoved it into a small area I had prepared with some extra sand and compost, because avocado trees like good drainage, and we have mostly clay here. It started raining within five minutes of coming back inside, and that's a Very Good Thing™ when you're sticking seeds in the ground.

And then, with the rain pouring down, and the rolling thunder playing on the Outside channel, in 5.1 DTS, I pulled out my cell phone and scrolled down the list, and called my favorite cousin Ginger, in Kentucky. I love chatting with her; she always makes me laugh, and the smile lasts for at least an hour after we hang up.

So I had my walk, I had my avocado, I had good company (electronically, and that counts), and I can still hear the rolling thunder outside. Life is good.

Gardener / Lawn guy

I have a lawn guy now.
I can't believe the deal: only $25 a week, and he comes by and mows, mulches, edges, and generally takes care of the lawn. You may recall that this was one of the conditions I set on moving to this hot, humid climate - that we hire somebody to keep the lawn mowed so I don't have to work in the heat in the summer.

As a bonus, he brings me yard clippings from other places he's worked and puts them in my compost bin. This saves him from having to dispose of them, so it's a symbiotic deal for us, and today he put the first batch in. And oh, my, it's finely shredded already. It will compost beautifully.

The soil here is an odd, marbled mix of clay and sand. The sand runs as veins through the clay, which tells me that maybe they added it back in the day when this was a sugar cane plantation (hence the name Sienna Plantation, which is what they call our planned community). This is good, because the best soil you can have is a mix of clay, sand and organic waste (compost).

The yard is already planted in St. Augustine grass, which is an awful choice in Midland because it needs lots of water - but a fine choice here in Houston because it will get lots of water, and because St. Augustine doesn't look too bad in the event that it skips a mowing. It also spreads well.

So far I have tomatoes, garlic and bell peppers in my tiny little garden. I put some cilantro seeds in there too, and we'll see if they germinate and give me some nice yummy cilantro.

So far so good. I haven't gotten any utility bills yet, so I don't know how they are going to go.

Oh, the good news: as of yesterday, we have a contract on the house in Midland. We could close as early as two weeks from now, but no later than the end of this month. We can get all the loose ends done, and then we'll have no ties to Midland except our friends and the theatre. And that's what it was all about all along.