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| Christmas Cactus |
It looks better than it deserves, the Christmas cactus. It bloomed the other day, when my back was turned (as usual). I found it on the floor of the winter garden
(love that new name!). The pot was tipped on its side under the backgammon table, it's droopy, sickly sweet pink flowers splayed aganst the black and white floor. Like a ballerina in her death throws.
So I retrieved it and stuck it in the urn that's temporarily sitting atop a pedestal in the corner--I have yet to repot a palm that's supposed to be there ensconsed (that's probably some kind of grammatical misconstruction and if it is not it is certainly pretentious and....eh. Sometimes the way things dribble forth is the way they dribble forth).
The urn (which will move elsewhere shortly) needed something, having lost its centerpiece twice this past summer, because I was too lazy to get off the porch in the blast furnace heat and inspect the garden for drought-related disasters. So now the trailing greens and purple wandering jew hoist an insipidly-hued focal point that has all the charm of a wet pink Kleenex. Better than nothing I suppose.
OH WHY do the wrong things curl up and die?
Perhaps because this is a cactus dipshit?
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| Lemon |
In other news. The Meyer lemon has given birth to two. Which is better than last year's one. As usual, one of the two is on a branch that broke two years ago [so many ones and twos! I get to use the word binary!] and is/was plastered together with packing tape and some green, plastic-wrapped wire that I managed to unearth in the garage. And yet again doing nothing triumphs over doing something. If I had pruned the damn branch I would have cut my fruit prodution this year by 50 percent. Too much math.
Yawn.
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