Three different times on Thursday I passed a garden area adjacent to the school at which I’m working. This garden featured the most gorgeous purple flowers. If I knew anything at all about plants I’m sure I’d be able to tell you their names, but I don’t, and I can’t.
Each time I walked by I thought to myself, “Those gorgeous flowers for which I have no name would make a perfect snapshot of the day on my blog,” but twice I didn’t have my camera with me and once my arms were loaded with testing materials.
Finally at the end of the day I found an opportunity to slip outside to take a photo of these breathtakingly beautiful plants. Alas, I was too late. Each of the blossoms lay wilted on the ground.
Now I have no idea what happened. Perhaps some group of ornery elementary students couldn’t help themselves and dashed the flowers to the ground. Maybe aliens were responsible for their demise, shooting death rays from the depths of space thinking to annihilate life on earth, but succeeding only in killing certain flowers. In that case we dodged a bullet, wouldn’t you agree?
But maybe it was just that time in the flowers’ lives. They’d reached the pinnacle of their collective existence and then simultaneously expired depriving me of a lovely photograph and the world of their fragrant beauty.
You know there’s a moral to this story, right? Stop and snap a photo of the unknown purple flowers. Gosh, that might just catch on.
I spent Tuesday afternoon wandering about the garden section of our nearest Home Depot. I don’t garden, but Studly Doright has promised we’ll fix up our courtyard area this week. And not a moment too soon–I feared hurricane cleanup crews were going to mistake our residence for a disaster area and begin removing debris from the premises.
Studly and I have a great many ideas for improving the courtyard-style entryway. A few of them are even approximately the same.
I know that on the right side I want a garden of low maintenance potted plants and a small potting bench, with a scattering of stepping stones similar to these:
I picture the area as welcoming, and not at all formal. Studly and I can’t quite agree on the material to cover the ground. Do we want mulch or river rocks?
If we go with river rocks, I think dark ones will look spiffy with the red brick of our home.
And the plants? I just have no idea. The area receives full sunlight for most of the day, so something that will grow well receiving the sun’s ardent attention is a must.
We are edging into fall here in Florida, so I’ll need to take that into consideration. Thank goodness for Google and YouTube and every other modern resource at my fingertips. But if any real gardeners have suggestions I’d love to hear from you.
One night last week I killed a Buick sized roach in my bedroom closet. Now the pest control company, Orkin, and I have this understanding– I pay them a substantial amount of money, and they make sure I don’t see any creepy crawlies inside my home. I assure you, I’m keeping my end of the bargain.
This post isn’t about my one roach. Roaches aren’t really newsworthy in the Florida panhandle, but I have a friend who recently moved to Oregon and her pest issue is enormous:
http://www.dailyastorian.com/Local_News/20160719/animal-versus-animal-as-elk-dogs-clash
Elk are taking over her yard, creating divots that she patiently replaces, and generally terrorizing the neighborhood. And they can be aggressive. I worry for her safety. Say what you will about roaches, but I’ve never heard of anyone being trampled to death by one.
In our text chat on Wednesday morning I suggested various remedies:
Granted, the spikes might be ill-advised, and we are animal lovers, after all. My friend did say they’d tried spraying wolf urine around the edges of their lawn with no success. Can you imagine going into the local feed and seed store and ordering thirty gallons of wolf pee? And having that pee fail to do its job?
I don’t guess Orkin handles elk. On the plus side, one isn’t likely to find an elk skittering across the bathroom floor at 2 a.m.
I hope my friend and her husband find an elk solution soon, but I fear nature will have its way in this case.
Twelve hours without electricity (courtesy of Hurricane Hermine) and the joys that it brings (hot showers, air conditioning) resulted in Studly Doright and I staying in a Bed and Breakfast Inn on Friday night.
We’d tried to find a hotel in Tallahassee, but the ones with electrical power were all completely booked, while ones without power wouldn’t have improved our lot. I looked farther afield and found the 1872 John Denham House in Monticello, FL.
1872 John Denham House
Even though the grounds of the inn had suffered at the hands of Hermine, this gorgeous home experienced a loss of power only briefly and was an air conditioned oasis on a hot, humid Florida day. The cool air felt so good when we stepped into the foyer that I almost cried.
The foyer The inn’s registry in the foyer
The inn’s proprietress gave us a brief tour of the first floor before showing us to our room.
The parlorAnother view of the parlorA view of the dining room from the parlorFormal dining roomThe formal dining room
Studly Doright and I were fortunate to book the honeymoon suite. It was a great deal more charming than the room we stayed in at The Camelot Inn in Amarillo, TX, 40 years ago.
I took these photos after our night in the room, so the poorly made bed is my fault. It was impeccably staged for our arrival.
Each room in the house featured a fireplace. This was ours.The claw foot bathtub made for an interesting, yet surprisingly efficient shower setting.
After a restful night Studly arose early to play his Saturday golf game, leaving me to enjoy breakfast without him. I didn’t think to take take photos of the meal, but it was outstanding, consisting of a fluffy soufflé, fresh fruit, yogurt, and homemade biscuits with a variety of homemade jams and jellies.
I met two of the other guests at breakfast, Gordon and Addison, who are members of a meteorological research team from the University of Oklahoma. The two men used the inn as a base while studying Hurricane Hermine. I pried as much information from them as possible, trying not to be too obnoxious. I’m fairly sure I failed in that regard.
Sensing my interest they provided directions to their rig parked at the edge of town, so on my way home I stopped by to snap some photos:
I sincerely hope the researchers gained useful information for future hurricane survivors. Specifically, how do we avoid loss of electricity? Now that would be a worthy project.
Hurricane Hermine arrived in a fury of wind and rain while Studly Doright and I lay sleeping Thursday night. Downgraded to a tropical storm shortly before impacting the Tallahassee area, she inflicted damage nonetheless.
The electricity went out around 1:45 a.m. EDT, well ahead of Hermine which hit us at 4:30 on Friday morning, and did not come back on until sometime on Saturday–long enough for all of the perishables in our refrigerator to be rendered unusable, but thankfully before the contents of the freezer could be damaged. I spent Saturday afternoon cleaning out the fridge.
We still don’t have cable or internet service at Doright Manor, so I’m sitting in a cafe in Tallahassee typing this as Studly plays golf. As long as the links are open life does go on.
We could have stayed at home Friday night, but the heat accumulated during the day made the un-air conditioned house uncomfortable. We looked for a hotel in Tallahassee, but the ones that had power were completely booked. We ended up staying in a bed and breakfast inn in Monticello, FL, and once I have access to my own internet connection I’ll share photos of the beautiful home in which we stayed.
If one merely glances out the window the world looks perfectly normal.
The sun is shining, birds are singing, squirrels are squirreling. But just a trip around the neighborhood gives clues as to the force of Hermine’s wrath. Unfortunately I’m unable to share any additional photos right now. I’m hoping that’s due to the Internet at the cafe and not something going on with my WordPress account.
Downed trees and fallen branches littered the roadways. Leaves stripped from branches were plastered to the sidewalks. Businesses and homes sustained broken windows. But as far as I know there were no deaths or serious injuries as a result of the storm, and that’s the only thing that matters.
Thanks to all my followers and readers who’ve been concerned with our safety. I received so many thoughtful posts that until today I was unable to respond to. Off I go to the grocery store to buy replacements for perishable items. At least one really good thing came from Hermine–the inside of my refrigerator is sparkling clean.
According to tracking predictions on my Storm app, Tropical Depression Nine is going to make a pass very near Doright Manor in Florida this week. The disturbance is heading into the Gulf of Mexico now where it’s picking up steam and could potentially be upgraded to a hurricane.
Studly Doright and I experienced a couple of hurricanes when we lived in Melbourne, Florida, in ’03 and ’04. I’m not in the mood to repeat those experiences. Sitting in a boarded up home (aka “hunkering down”) for 24 hours straight while ferocious winds blew unidentifiable objects into our home was not optimal for my sanity. This blog should be proof of that. And we did it twice.
Had I never had to hunker down to survive two hurricanes I’d probably be writing a how-to blog for docile homemakers or an advice column for lovesick teenagers.
I asked Studly if the cats and I could evacuate to a safer place this time. He just pulled his hat down on his head and croaked, “We’re gonna need a bigger boat.”
Maybe those days of hunkering down took a toll on him, too.
Oh, and because the storm is currently called “Tropical Depression Nine,” I thought this video featuring The Searchers was a fitting cap to the post. Enjoy!
Last Friday night Studly Doright and I went to see the Dixie Chicks perform at the Mid-Florida Credit Union Amphitheater in Tampa, Florida. Studly is not a music lover. He knows the words to only one song–“Happy Birthday”–and that’s no joke, but Studly loves me, so in celebration of our 40th wedding anniversary he consented to accompanying me to see one of my all-time favorite groups.
He blanched slightly at the cost of the orchestra section tickets, but he shelled out the money with a smile. I think that was a smile. Might’ve been a grimace. With Studly it’s sometimes hard to tell.
I love the Dixie Chicks. Lead singer, Natalie Maines and I have much in common. We were both born in Lubbock, Texas, we are both super fans of Howard Stern, and neither of us can stand Donald Trump. We’re practically twins, only she got all the talent and I’m at least twenty years older. Other than that, it’s hard to tell us apart.
Natalie Maines
Me
Uncanny likeness, isn’t it?
When I was a child my parents loved to drive to Lubbock and dance to the music of The Maines Brothers, Natalie’s dad’s band. I feel like this binds us, as well, even though I never got to see the group play live.
Maines Brothers Band
The Dixie Chicks have had to deal with some nasty stuff for more than a decade stemming from a candid comment Natalie made about then President George W. Bush while touring in Europe in 2003. Country music stations turned their backs on the Chicks and many country artists condemned them.
In comparison to statements made by current GOP candidate Trump and his followers in regard to President Obama and Hillary Clinton, Natalie’s comment was harmless, yet the Dixie Chicks have lost millions of dollars in revenue since 2003. Funny, that freedom of speech thing seems to be selective.
Enough politics, though, this concert kicked ass from beginning to end. The opening acts, Smooth Hound Smith and Vintage Trouble were totally engaging even in the intense tropical heat. I’d pay money to see both groups as solo acts, and was tickled to see artists from the acts appear later in The Dixie Chicks‘ sets.
Smooth Hound Smith
Vintage Trouble
But it was the Dixie Chicks we’d come to see: Natalie Maines, and sisters Emily Robison, and Martie Maguire. They did not disappoint.
Even Studly mumbled along to “Goodbye Earl” and “Wide Open Spaces,” throwing vague lines about happy birthday in to fill the gaps.
I sang every song, but as the evening went on I began to worry that they wouldn’t sing “Not Ready to Make Nice,” the Chicks‘ anthem about the price they paid for Natalie’s comment about President Bush. You see, I’ve alienated quite a few friends over my outspoken Liberal views, and “Not Ready to Make Nice” resonates with me. I needn’t have worried. They saved it for the encore and brought the house down.
From what I witnessed in Tampa, The Dixie Chicks are being embraced with open arms. They were a long time gone, but now they’re back with a vengeance. And I know I like it.
Here’s “Not Ready to Make Nice” from YouTube. The lyrics follow. Enjoy.
Praying for Eyebrowz 