I Forget

I am pondering this plumeria. It is not mine. I was searching for the name of the plant in the following photo:

which IS mine and which is, of course, a bromeliad (though what sort I haven't a clue because as always I didn't save the tag) and while searching for the word, which had entirely escaped my brain, as these things do (the brain meantime was flailing about with helpful hints like -- pink thing!), I went on line and searched under tropical plants, which I know it is, and the photo of the plumeria popped up and I'm wanting it. If you squint hard to make the colors run together it's also the color of the blusher (or rouge, as my antiquated prince persists in calling it) that I have been craving. If I only had that color--if could turn myself that color-- I would be a happy person, I mutter to myself. Rich. Admired.

Now I do own a plumeria. Here it is, in the shade of a rubber tree leaf:

The Kumquat is in Bloom Again. And Other News.

I had this disoriented feeling, at 5 this morning, like seeing the sun and the moon in the sky and not knowing (in my woozy, what the hell am I doing out of bed state) whether it was dawn or sunset. The kumquat has new buds--at the same time that it's sporting what appears to be a bumper crop of little fruities.

As this is my first kumquat, and I have such lousy luck with fruit plants (though I persist in buying them) I have no idea if this is an aberration. But we have Carol--The Prince's ex-girlfriend thrice-removed-- arriving tomorrow morning and staying with us for a week and so I am particularly pleased at this development. I'm never more attractive than when I'm looking modest. I'll lower my lashes as she enviously sniffs the delicious scent of the opening blossoms that I've had absolutely nothing to do with producing.  

Kumquat

 

Behold the purple petunia. 

Well, that was the intention. I set off this morning to stomp about and jostle the brain and encountered one of those THOUGHTS which tend to occur only while in open motion (as opposed to pacing about the living room).

 

I will, I said to myself, transplant the key lime and the honey bell orange to a single large pot (I don't know which is which anymore and won't until the maybe some year when one or the other of them sports a fruitie) and I will stick the newly sprouted moonflower seedlings in the middle (where Vinnie and Shakira are maybe less likely to peck them to death) and since this will be rather dull until the moonflowers flower I will find some deep purple petunias, the ones that smell so hauntingly sweet, and I will poke them here and there in the pot and it will all be a very nice addition to the naked corner of the aviary/greenhouse where I've stuck the orange paper parasol.

This exercise will cost me maybe $2.98 or near to it, I triumphantly added as I flip flopped into the Frager's hardware garden center.