Can't Stop the Petal Rain (don't want to, either)

We all watched this vase of flowers, from fairly tight buds on bringing them home  to a slow succession of days seeing them opening to the light. 

Bloomed as wide as possible, time and gravity began the release of petals, in small showers or one by one. That might sound somewhat poignant, but it wasn't, it was just another beautiful step in the process. We left them - because.

For a lovely bowl

Let us arrange these flowers

Since there is no rice. ~ Basho

We had plenty of rice, so felt rich indeed. Food and beauty and love, lucky us!

From hour to hour, they opened

The morning I woke up to find the coffee table littered with petals, my daughter found me taking photos. She and my grandchildren were as mesmerized by the flowers as me. Yes, that's a little scary.

And then there were only two petals left. I was sitting there, camera in hand, saying 'Oh, just two petals left!' when my on occasion not sentimental at all daughter dragged her hand through the almost barren stems saying 'What?!' while laughing somewhat maniacally. 

No touching photo of the last petal clinging. 

Instead, a petal fight ensued.

Good work, flowers!!

Today is my last day here for this visit. My granddaughter will brave the pre-dawn drive to the airport, which means I need to get some laundry done. Now. 

It's been good. But like petals of a flower, when it's time to go, go before someone makes you go!

Have a massive Monday. Do something measurable.

Orange Obsession

Not the eating sort of oranges, though I've binged on oranges before. Really good oranges are addictive, with just enough work in peeling them and enough health benefits to make a temporary obsession seem almost noble. 

This isn't that, this is just pure, enjoyed obsession. The sort that a l m o s t makes me want to taste these. I'm afraid to look up if they would be non-objectional to eat because then I just might.

From no blooms for awhile to short hard rains and a good yard session - attacking those viney killing weeds, the ones that slide around, slenderly climbing, like baby boas of the plant world - the blooms have returned en masse, the plants breathing and exhaling, pushing beauty into the world.

In the early morning light all of the magic is not interrupted by remembering drifts of science classes...stamens, pistols, ovules, anthers. The cycle of earth and rain and bees and birds. It was so elegant, even for a young child, so obvious, the science only leading to enjoying the beauty even more. 'That's the stamen, that's pollen!'

Drawn to orange beauty. I can think of worse ways to spend some time.

Have a macroscopic Monday. Do something metamorphic.

Alley Flower World in Michigan

The reason I'm experiencing a Michigan fall instead of a Culebra heart of H season is to house/dog/cat sit, and a big part of that is taking Mackey for walks. Bisecting each block is  an alley, giving homeowners access front and back. It is also  where I can indulge my yard snooping. There is a world in alleys of this sort, grassy, lined with fences of wood or steel, or increasingly, some kind of plastic imitating wood. A few have no fences, but only a few. There are plantings of flowers, a few vegetable gardens given away by a flashing red of tomatoes or a deep purple eggplant. And then there is the occasional pal of Mack's coming up, barking madly, all stopped by fences (there are no wandering dogs or cats here, and that feels all sorts of strange).

Secret worlds

Without the dog, I'd probably be arrested, pointing my camera into yards and snapping away. Without the dog, a critter I've loved since I met him dog years ago (via Casey, who blessed Linda with him and a woman we miss and think of dearly), I wouldn't even be here. I'm a lucky dog au pair. Linda can deal with the gossip after I'm gone.

I'd name these flowers, but I can't. Except what looks totally like a passion/parcha flower, right here.

I do know that that little creature is an ant. And this looks lily like.

Are these gladiolas? Or just glad?

These are everywhere in all sort of colors on the fences. Linda says in winter they are not so pretty. I'll never see that, so I like them very much.

Chrysanthemum of some special sort?

This might be a hollyhock. Maybe. But that is certainly a bee.

Another parcha type

Even I know this is a sunflower!

This red stood out from the other end of this particular alley. Bam!

Grapes!! This yard feels so comfortable.

Who needs man-made Christmas decorations? Oh. that winter thing. Never mind.

I'm venturing farther and farther afield in my alley stealth walks yet no matter how far I've gone, what began as startling and now isn't unusual is that some dog will bark behind a fence and a voice will call out 'Mackey?' Then the owner will come over, someone wondering, who is this person walking Linda's dog. Linda thinks they don't know her name, just his. They know both, don't tell.

 I've been questioned nicely a few times, in beautiful neighborly concern, but I still laugh to myself each time. Mad dog napper, moving into Linda's life, she's in the basement, hahahaha! ? But outwardly I am polite; Culebra humour doesn't play well everywhere. 

Have a mildly mad Monday. Do something munificent.