How to Grow on Culebra

I never wanted to be a doctor or a nurse or a veterinarian when I was little. The inside of living things was something I didn't want to look at, at least under the skin. When I was about eight years old, my grandfather asked me what I was going to do when I grew up. He wasn't a random asker, it wasn't the cute 'What do you want to be when you grow up?' sort of question adults ask. It was more like you'd ask an older youth, or a prospective spouse. What are your plans? He meant it. I, wanting to impress him, came up with being a psychologist, a career he approved of for me, an answer that let me breath a sigh of relief. He discussed my college options and the path to get there. That was as far inside as I wanted to go, past the blood and guts, into the physically untouchable. If Gramps was happy, it must be right. Right?

So when I look, I look at the outside of things, things that catch my eye without a microscope (though that view can be fascinating). In random walks over the past couple of weeks of Spring here, there is a lot to see. Spring is fleeting here in this place where many think we only have two seasons - tourist season and not tourist season - we have seasons, they are sometimes just a little confused. Spring is also Fall, the new coming in, pushing the old away. Green leaves turning to reds and browns, littering the ground among blossoms that have arrived and depart leaving fruits in their wake. It's the speeded up version in a slow paced place. 

Only a little rain and the new is shiny bright 

A friend sent me this can of smoked trout awhile back. When I pulled it off the shelf, it came with a bonus.

I've waited 12 years to see a mango this big on this tree. Strangely this year, it bloomed once, and many of the mangoes (many for this tree anyway) stuck. Then it bloomed again. Each of those little green balls is a potential mango. We'll see what happens.

This is the neighbor's  tree that was so laden with blossoms. Her mangoes, unlike mine, are uncountable.

These 'weeds' only bloom with rain water

A new cashew tree in the mango tree neighbor's yard. I didn't even know it was there until it was too obvious to bypass.

Tender tender goes the growing. The green and blooming of Culebra asks very little to survive and thrive, adapted to drought and salt and winds. I never stop being amazed. 

A few weeks ago I was at the veggie market and there was a perfect artichoke there. It was a splurge and around here, if you decide to splurge you don't ask the price because it doesn't matter. It's not like you can check out a few more farmer's markets or hope your CSA brings you a better deal. So splurge I did. Running a few more errands I got home and no artichoke in the bag. I wondered if I'd even bought it and decided I hadn't and promptly forgot about it.

Until, in cleaning out the vehicle I was using, there, under the seat, was the artichoke. It had turned into an ARTichoke.

The pleasure wasn't what I expected, steamed and dripping with butter, but it gave me pleasure all the same.

Where am I going with this? Nowhere fast. I'll let this song sum it up for you. And for me.

This band had way too much influence on my very young mind. If you think I'm strange, it's all their fault. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Oh, and my 9th grade math teacher who turned me on to Herman Hesse. Him too. Thanks, Mr. Sherman.

Have a tangential Thursday. Do something tantalizing.