Fair Well's and Fur

Tina came dockside to pick me up yesterday so we could have a last afternoon together before she, Mark and a tripartite of cats head back to St. Croix, and soon onward to points south.

Pretend and you can see the lobster (you can, orangely, and no, not the leaf) I wanted badly to capture for lunch. The lobster had  other plans.

There's room for everyone. Except cruise ships and personally driven loud as a multihuge tribe of monkeys come upon cymbals and bang sticks peace disturbing water craft.

After a slow bay and town tour, with a nacho-oh-two-bellies-groaning-full stop at Dinghy Dock (thanks Mike G. for the solar panel wire! Once again, you are a god) we headed out to the boat.

Cats know when change is literally in the wind...every one of them was sticking close.

Stern cat.

Tina being ever so helpful as Mark grills dinner.

This morning at dawn thirty the plan was for them to be anchor up and away. I am usually awake at that time and thought I might get one photo of bay leaving, but of course I slept later than ever in my life, the fourth time in fifty nine eight years, a trend I don't intend to continue. Maybe I was being somewhat kept in the dark, as this is the first thing I saw when I woke up.

The red in the background is a perfectly good pile of cat bed. Maybe I should start sleeping there

Fair winds and followings seas (even though I know they will have the wind right on the nose for this leg of the trip), you two! Memories swirled with plans of new adventures while the wind cried tarry.

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In case you haven't gotten the memo, we have our first named storm of the year, Andrea. If you AREN'T prepared maybe this will give you a bit of a reality check. While Andrea isn't going to (knock knock knockin' on wood) do much, she's a taste of months to come.

Have a telescopically telling Thursday. Do something thanklessly (so far) theoretical on a timely tangent.

Tropical Waving

I know people here had to work yesterday, but I didn't have anything going on to take me from home. It was a day of listening to rain, ventures into the yard, being curled up in bed with a really pushy cat and a good movie called All in This Tea (says the Hollywood Reporter ". . .an entertaining portrait of an eccentric figure whose singular passion proves infectious." That's about right.) which I watched while drinking lemongrass / Thai basil tea - not the same at all but very delicious and better because it came from my yard. At one point, in response to how does a particular tea taste, he says something like You know after a rain you go outside and the mist is rising from the ground, it's like that. If you are a tea drinker, you get it. If not, you might think about tasting mud.

This morning, with rain chances moved from 20% to 50%, though the radar looks like 10% to me and that 10 somewhere else, the sun has risen blearily in a washed out grey sky. Colors, and there are colors, are sharper, brighter, bolder yet overlaid with that same washed-outness. Or my glasses are dirty. But there you are. Or here I am.

This bougainvillea has been straggling along for years, so I must celebrate its color

In the middle of the day I got a phone call from my brother, who sounded like a drugged out train wreck. Fair enough, he'd just had shoulder surgery and was calling as requested to let me know he came out the other side alive and if not quite well, moving in that direction. My stupid phone won't let me SEND a photo, so you just have to imagine him with a thumbs up in a wheelchair...actually, it's probably better not to imagine that, but to me he looked great! A public thanks to our buddy Dave D. for coming down and keeping an eye on him while cleaning out his liquor stash.

 

This container, covered in useless bird netting, has melon, tomato, rosemary, racao and something unidentifiable thriving. Again.

The tomatoes and melons are trying once more to produce, rain being the magical garden elixir that it is. Such brave plants! Like babies starting to walk, no matter how many falls (iguanas, thrashers, drought) they get back up again. One melon, the size of a shrunken tennis ball, gave up. Surprisingly it was full of seeds, so I'll replant those and maybe have a new mini melon thing going on. Science in the backyard! Where's my tropically colorful lab coat?

C'mon 'maters!

As much as I'd love to have lovely rows of herbs and veggies like I see EVERY FRIGGIN' DAY online, bless their hearts, I'm not unhappy to just have things growing to at least make bush tea, season my food and give me hope. Not a bad pay off for a few plants and some enjoyable time outside, early in the morning and late in the day.

Oh! Here's something kind of fun I found while lost online. You pick out your town/city/country spot and type it in, with a message, then it pulls the map up on Google Earth, all in the shape of an envelope. It even shows Flamenco beach! The example has the photo on the inside, but I'd turn it outside. Of course. You're on your own from here.

Have a weed free Wednesday. Do something  waterproof.

Goddess in the Garden

Thunder rolls across the water, heavy vibrating echo of unseen lightning. Swimming plans cancelled, tea steeping, rain gently falling, the reds and greens of the radar translated. Translated into leaves and blossoms, herbs and food, full cisterns, dancing ponds for mosquitoes, muted music on my roof. I hear the singing.

Garden goddess, she don't care.

Have a trailing tenderness Tuesday. Do something talismanic.