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 |  My random thoughts and reactions to my everyday life. The voices like a forum. |
| I do not know quite what happened or when , but my hubby and I now qualify for seniors' discounts at some venues. This creates a quandary; in order to save money, but not face, we have to admit to our age. HMMMM..... We definitely do not consider ourselves to be old. In this day and age ,when people as a whole are living longer and healthier lives why are 'young seniors', those in their fifties, like moi, considered 'old'?? It's so true that age is just a perception! "Maturity" is very objective/subjective, and I object! Whew, a few years have skittered by since I composed this biography block. Those "fifties" are in the rear view mirror and they are distant, fond memories. Oh, I do not plan to stop writing any time soon. |
| PROMPT March 3rd Do you have a green thumb? Are you a gardener? Do you want to be? Do I have a green thumb? Isn't this the time-honoured method of stalling? Repeat the question whilst formulating a reply. After staring at my thumbs, I can report that they are in fact stained blue, blue with ink. Pens can be messy tools. Ink tends to splatter, splotch and smear. I digress. The mind wanders. If the query is am I able to grow plants, most of them indeed a vibrant green, then the answer is yes. I cultivate an indoor grow-op. Greenery lines windowsills, radiators, tabletops, counters, and much of the floor space in my apartment. Basically, I reside in a greenhouse with kitchen facilities. If I had a balcony, or a patio it too would feature plants. There are so many plants surrounding me, hubby rarely notices when I smuggle in another one. At times, I must chastise him and point out that he is crowding a plant, or being a tad too rough as he pushes his way through them. Come on, respect the green. His chair has a clear path to it and the fridge is not blocked. I doubt a single plant has tripped him. I love the different leaf shapes and the variegated colours. Each houseplant is a beauty. Many have accompanied me from home to home, surviving the indignity of upheaval and ultimately thriving with a fresh start. Many know repotting as they outgrow their first pots. Many have experienced curious toddlers yanking their leaves and cats shredding their stalks. Many lived to flourish another day after an extended 'plantover' similar to a sleepover at my mother's home. She could never be described as one with a green thumb, but she aspired to be. She appreciated their looks, but found plants to be too needy. I do not discriminate. A croton steadily stretches towards the ceiling. A money tree endeavours to be a bush. A peace lily and a bamboo share sunlight with a spider plant, two palms and a fern. Numerous succulents grace the livingroom windowsill and they take turns blossoming. Once again, I cherish a succulent known as a donkey's tail. It is fragile and easily gives up its unique heads. Years ago, my eldest grandgiggle and one of our shelties tore apart a particularly impressive donkey's tail. A few weeks ago, an orchid I've sheltered for about two years suddenly burst forth with gorgeous hot pink blooms. I'm awaiting the flowering of two lilies. In the summer months, I cater to a small garden of perennials at my seasonal campsite. Most of the plants attract butterflies, but alas, caring for them in the spring attracts voracious biting mosquitoes and blackflies. It's the price exacted to be a gardener. Venture outside, feed the insects. Disturb the earth, feed the insects. Weed and water, feed the insects. Sigh. Spring will arrive some day and I hesitate to write soon. It's never in any hurry. For now, I enjoy my indoor garden and scheme to fit in a few more green tenants. |
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