My Lath House

Most of my adult life, I have coveted greenhouses. I think I may have inherited a genetic love of sticking my hands in dirt from my maternal grandmother. I understand that her gardens were spectacular, and according to my mother, she would much rather be out tending her beds than cleaning or cooking. I wonder what she wore?? I tend to garden in old shorts and tees and be covered in dirt. I cannot imagine her wearing anything other than long dark dresses and practical shoes, if old black and white family photos are accurate. I never knew her and wish I could now. She could tell me about her plants. She would decorate the alter at church with her flowers, and according to my Aunt Betty, her blue delphinium and pale pink Dr. Van Fleet rose combos were amazing.

Since I joined the Orchid and Bromeliad Club of Key Largo, I have started coveting shade houses. Instead of bringing light in to plants, down here you have to keep light out. I only have so many spots on trees and on benches under trees and hanging on hooks from trees to put my orchids. I approached Harry with the idea of a lath house, which is what was used in the "olden days" before the high tech shade fabrics were invented. I like the look much better. Harry was enthusiastic and after deliberating and studying the best approach, we made a design and got to work. The first four posts took nine hours to dig in. We had to go down 18" and since we live on coral rock, that ain't so easy. I need to be sure that if a hurricane blows in, my structure doesn't blow out. Harry did the rest of the construction. I think he did a spectacular job and I am so excited. I have about half of my collection in there now and so much room to add more. Orchids are like crack to enthusiasts. We want more!

Snow Globe on My Shoulders

I woke up this morning thinking about my recent thought processes. I do alot of my best imagery in the early hours and wonder if I dream what I wake up thinking about. The image that came to me was that my brain was a snow globe and someone has just shaken me violently and I have got swirls of obsessive thoughts like little white flakes of detritus clouding my clear view.

It all started Monday, when I finally had my deposition by the evil Welliver's lawyer. What a "ginormous" waste of my time and my money since I had to have my $375 an hour lawyer there also. The deposition is part of our case that is now 18 months old against a couple who we knew (and I thought were our friends) who offered us a 5% ownership of a motel in the Keys in exchange for Harry's help in finding them a property (which he did), getting them financing based on his existing reputation with the local banks as a motel operator and his future involvement (which he did), and our getting the property operating and provide ongoing supervision (which we did). And, when the closing was done, and the operation was running after months of our work, they reneged on their offer. The deposition involved 5 hours of repetitive useless questioning. I must have said "you have already asked that and I have already answered that" a hundred times. The only fun I had was when our lawyer, who is Jewish, kept harping to the other lawyer that it was Passover and that she needed to get the deposition finished and go home for Seder. She did that to aggravate the Welliver's, because Robert Welliver called in a drunken state late one night and called Harry a fat Jew bastard. He sure didn't care if Harry was Jewish when he got that huge loan thanks to Mr. Harry Caplan.

The next day followed with more drama of a family nature. Complications over a planned vacation with kids and kid's in-laws that got more and more involved until I decided to step out of the equation and plan something a little less complicated and not have to share my grand kids.

But the interesting thing is why the brain has times of peacefulness and clarity and other times of cloudiness and obsessive thinking? Why sleep comes so easily some nights and other nights are fitful. Why memories and thoughts seem to get stirred up and then like the white flakes in the snow globe, have to drift calmly down until they are settled and undisturbed once again.

Tree Murderer part 2

The City of Marathon Biologist for Protected Species stopped by our property to take a look. She laughed. Oh yeah, she agreed. A direct line of foliage damage/death from our neighbor's balcony to the ocean view. Now we have to have the soil tested. Too bad none of the foliage was "protected" or we wouldn't have to do a thing. They really go after anyone who touches the wrong leaves down here!

Tree Murderer

I got the strangest call today while working at the motel. A neighbor called, and in a very excited voice told me that "we have a real problem." Oh boy, do I hate to hear words like that. Owning a business on the edge of a residential area has brought us face to face with numerous dilemmas. How do you tell neighbors that your motel pool does not really belong to the neighborhood when you see whole families enjoying it as though they were guests? Or how do you deal with neighborhood kids stealing your maintenance supplies to build a playhouse? And why is our dumpster the home for all the neighborhood trash when we have to pay to have it hauled away and all they have to do is drag it to the curb and it is removed for free?

But this call was made out of concern for us. We own a weekly rental property on the water at the end of the street. It is lovely, peaceful, has its own dock, ramp and small pool. The house next door, also on the water, is in foreclosure. And the neighbor next to it, one house away from the water, decided several months ago that he would take advantage of the lack of inhabitants, and he chopped all the landscaping and trees that obstructed his view of the water down to the ground. It looked post-apocalyptic and our guest's privacy and views of tropical foliage was now gone. The neighbor reported this to us and Harry confronted the man who was the butcher and also made a police report in hopes of dissuading any further Edward Scissorhand tactics. We then decided to plant our own landscaping to block the view of the decimated neighbor's yard. But lately, those beautiful plants and trees have been looking stressed.

Vivienne, the concerned neighbor, wanted to let me know that in the past two weeks, our huge, healthy coconut palm at water's edge had lost all foliage and is dead. She seemed to be personally distraught over its demise. We discussed the possibility of a lightening strike and she reported all electrical activity in the past months down to exact locations of storms! And, she "suggested" that we take a soil sample to rule out any foul play.

Hmmm, this seemed a little strange. Trees don't die down here in two weeks. In fact, you cannot stop things from growing short of natural disaster such as a hurricane or direct thunderbolt hit. And, most interestingly, this tree is also in the direct line of sight from the 'neighbor with the heavy clippers' home to the water. Harry wasted no time marching over to his house and this time, the man's girlfriend who answered the door confessed that they had cut the foliage, but that "she" was not involved in poisoning the tree. But Harry said her boyfriend was skulking about in the background and when she said she wasn't involved, she looked back at him. Aha! So Harry told him he was testing the tree and all of the soil around our property. I am not sure what else was relayed but knowing Harry, I am sure it was succinct and to the point that this guy better not be involved.

So downstairs is a bundle of withered palm leaves. And we will take they to the County Extension for testing. And if we do find some traces of chemicals, what then? I will have to let you know. But in the meantime there is a very old, and very large coconut tree trunk with nary a branch on it to sway gracefully in the breeze or to be framed by a reddening sunset streaked sky. And I am sure, there is neighborhood discussion with the new unfolding drama.

Happy Birthday to Me

I suggest that after the age of 21, we just stop fussing over birthdays, OK? Not that I don't really love the attention and cards and calls from friends and families. I do!! I mean to re-establish the cause for those displays to something that is NOT a reminder that time is marching on. Those of us of a certain age are totally able to understand my thinking. Not only do I not recognize myself in reflections in glass any more due to the physical reminders of aging, I also am prone to thinking about how much time is "left." I am not being morbid, just practical. If I buy a tree that is slow growing, will I get to see it at the height of its glory. And, will I get to see my grand kids weddings, babies, etc. Who knows? I don't obsess over these issues but I am sure that most of our lives, we think occasionally about how much time we have left.

One thing that I refuse to be a party to, and I certainly hope those nearest and dearest will give me a big boot in the bootie if I do it, is the constant comments about age. I hate when people talk about getting old. Forget that BS. If you have aches and pains, take an Advil. Really. This is all about attitude. Of course there are health related realities. I worked for nine hours outside last Sunday and yes, I was sore on Monday. But I think the important part of this paragraph is that I WORKED OUTSIDE FOR NINE HOURS ON SUNDAY. And until something major and debilitating gets me, I plan to continue. Let my son tell me to pull up anchor in 5 foot waves while balancing on the bow of the boat. I will try!

I find it incredibly annoying when I present some new gadget, gizmo, book, TV show or fad to a peer and they act critical. Like I am putting cyanide on a spoon and asking them to taste. I do not want to be one of those people who act old and think old and I am putting this out to all of my compadres, don't do it either. Let us face this next chapter of life with interest and enthusiasm. I will never forget one of Harry's dad's friends. She was in her 80's at the time and at a fancy dinner party and I saw a little electronic thing on the table next to her plate. It was allowing her to keep up with the baseball scores of her beloved Indians. I just loved the irreverence to the surrounding and her technology interest in a gadget I had not yet seen. So take my hand and lets have some fun. Red Rover anyone? Mother May I? How about a good game of tag? Jack and Ruby, here I come, ready or not.

Zippo

My next door neighbor, Kirby, is a sweet man. I have no idea what his age is, or what his real name is. He is just Kirby. He and his wife have had their share of health problems and aging issues in the past few years. Martha, his wife, is housebound and on oxygen. Recently she fell and broke her hip. Kirby suffers from macular degeneration and can barely see. Now his hearing is failing and recently he had a bout with bladder cancer. He is a wizened little thing, a chain smoker who likes to sit and listen to talk news on the radio and sporting events. He is a gentle, kind man. The neighbors love he and Martha and look out for them.

Kirby and Martha have a Jack Russell terrier named Zippo. At one point Zippo weighed in at 27#. If you know the breed, this is about 10-15 pounds more than he should have been. He waddled around like a Thanksgiving dressed turkey on bandy legs. Last summer, when Matt was visiting and cleaning fish at the dock, he threw a huge smelly piece of skin and fish flesh to a staring egret sitting on Kirby's dock next to ours. Before the bird could get to it, Zippo hobbled over and grabbed it and ran on his little short legs up the stairs into Kirby's house. At the time, Matt was mortified and wasn't sure what to do and forgot to tell me about it until some time later. Months later I confessed to Kirby what had happened and he said, "Oh, I remember that. I said, Martha, what has the dog dragged in." I cannot imagine what I would have thought if Guinness, my dog dragged something like that in. I might have fainted. Gross!

But years of being indulged by his owners, and fed treats like strawberry shortcake and whipped cream for breakfast, have caught up to Zippo. Diagnosed with diabetes, the past couple months have been hell for Kirby. With his wife needing at home therapy for her healing hip, the care of the dog has fallen to him. Since he cannot see, he cannot do the regular multiple blood tests daily to check insulin. Giving shots has been hit or miss with Zippo going from unreadable high levels to such lows that he has convulsed. I have been helping to test Zippo, but one morning last week, when I went over for my daily blood letting dog torture, I found Kirby in his robe with a miserable cold and just overwhelmed. The dog had peed, pooped and vomited everywhere. We got the mess cleaned up and then had the "talk" about what to do.

Tonight Kirby called to say he had made his decision. Zippo will be put to sleep in the next day or so. I am going to miss that goofy little dog. And, he is a reminder to me that life winds down. Kirby cannot manage his beloved pet's health anymore. He has had to give up his gardening and his beautiful orchid collection. His raised pineapple bed is full of weeds. No more fishing and the boat has been sold. He cannot drive. Life is narrower and narrower. I am not just sad that Kirby is losing his constant companion, I am sad that Kirby has already lost so much.

Newest Member of the Family

Meet Anastasia Caplan Wells, our newest granddaughter born on March 4, 2010. She weighed in at 6lb 12oz. Her parents are Jezebel (Harry's daughter) and Matt, her husband. Isn't she a beauty?? She joins her sister Jenavieve, who is 16 months old. That household is going to be busy!

After both Grandma's leave we will head to Albuquerque to see the family and meet Anastasia and help out however we can. I cannot wait.

Oh, and I got approval for nicknames - maybe Jena and Ana? Since I still call my own children "Guinness" after the dog, I need it as simple as possible.

Am I blessed or what. Six grandchildren. All healthy. All gorgeous. All geniuses. ;-)