The Caregiver’s Tales: A Blog

Well, the garden of the front porch is rid of the Turks Caps. They had a nice run, but I’m ready for new plantings. First, however, I need to amend the soil. It’s got too much clay, according to my arborist son, and needs a little something to break it up. We planted some red clover yesterday and that will help in the long run, but it needs something like rice hulls to make it a bit more friable so that oxygen can get to the roots.

I’ve started making my own coffee creamer. Half and Half blended with sweetened condensed milk. My bullet does the job. It lasts a good while. There’s probably a small cost savings, but the big saving is no chemical additives. Although, I’m fairly certain at this stage of my life there’s not much left to reduce when it comes to loss of longevity through use of chemical additives. I think it’s just fun.

They say a watched pot never boils, and sometimes I think a watched plant never blooms. Several years back I moved the schoolhouse flowers to three different beds around the yard. There were lots of bulbs, way more than enough to go around. But none of them seemed to thrive. Until this year.

I bought a new vacuum cleaner yesterday. I splurged and bought a battery operated, handheld model from a maker of some repute. It cost a pretty penny, but if it lasts ten years then the cost per year will be small. From one day’s experience, I think it’s safe to say my frequency of pulling out the vacuum will increase. The new machine is easy to use. No more bulk. No more chords.

The second Turk’s Cap is well and fully dug up, and the path for sunlight for the rose is mostly open. Only one to go. In my search for new companion plants, I came upon old familiars, lavender, salvia, and catmint. Suits me. All have been in the beds before, and now it looks as though they shall return. The front porch garden will have a new look this spring.

I dug up one of the Turk’s Caps yesterday. The Marie Pavia rose in the front porch flowerbed is down one competitor. It was easier than anticipated. Sixteen years of rotting oak leaves has given me nice, loamy soil. I’d like to think the next ones will come up with equal ease, but I’ve discovered the way of the world sometimes lures you in with something easy before banging you over the head with the hard thing.

Yesterday, I asked. Is it Fall? The answer this morning is yes. It’s 62, and I need to think about shelter for the cats. We’re down to two, and one of them is new. A tom. He’s getting used to the routine. He waits at the door for breakfast, shows up for dinner, and hangs on the porch during the day. I’ll bring down crates and bedding this afternoon and set them up on the south porch. No need for the heat lamps, but a warm spot to cuddle is good. 62 is probably chilly, even for a cat.

Thank you, Polo. Your tropical moisture was most welcome. I logged close to four inches at my house. Best of all it came down at a relatively steady pace over several days. So, there were no flash floods to speak of. The Llano River puffed up but the flood control lakes controlled the flood, and the water made its way to the sea without incident. The rain made a local music festival a muddy mess, but that was the extent of the generated news.