I finished my essay exam for British Lit, the romantics through modernism, and then re-potted Puppy in her new home. Lovely new soil for a lovely girl. Housewarming gifts are not required.
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Thursday, September 26, 2013
House Shopping
Where do you shop for a new home for a mango tree? Home Depot, of course! Ba-dum-pum.
So anyway...I went shopping for a new home for Puppy last night. It's not exactly the season for home shopping...apparently spring and summer are the primary seasons for that, so the shelves were picked through. I really didn't want a fixer-upper, so the damaged ones where outta there, and painting a glazed pot is a challenge, and being that it's fall, the leftovers are often the colors that someone thought would be great but turned out to be ugly, so...no. Plus, this home has to be outside when it's nice and inside when it's cooler, so it can't clash with the décor.
I spent more than I wanted to (who doesn't when you're shopping for a home?), but I wound up with a subtle and pretty off-white glazed pot with room for Puppy to grow. The pig pot is awesome, but it's pretty small.
While I'm at it, I decided to get some new soil for Puppy. I don't like how the last bit I bought has settled. Potting soil shouldn't look like mud. If it does there's not enough organic material in there, right? So, while I'm afraid Puppy might go into shock, I'm going to give her new soil in her new home.
The timing is another worrying part. She's been putting out new leaves. I don't want to interrupt her growth, and it's true that I really don't know that much about growing mangos, but it's an experiment. I may have to find someone with a greenhouse in a few years, but hopefully by then I'll have my own.
I'll be sure to take pictures once I move Puppy to her new home, you know, before she has a chance to go into shock and look sad and pathetic. Maybe this weekend, after I take my British Lit final.
So anyway...I went shopping for a new home for Puppy last night. It's not exactly the season for home shopping...apparently spring and summer are the primary seasons for that, so the shelves were picked through. I really didn't want a fixer-upper, so the damaged ones where outta there, and painting a glazed pot is a challenge, and being that it's fall, the leftovers are often the colors that someone thought would be great but turned out to be ugly, so...no. Plus, this home has to be outside when it's nice and inside when it's cooler, so it can't clash with the décor.
I spent more than I wanted to (who doesn't when you're shopping for a home?), but I wound up with a subtle and pretty off-white glazed pot with room for Puppy to grow. The pig pot is awesome, but it's pretty small.
While I'm at it, I decided to get some new soil for Puppy. I don't like how the last bit I bought has settled. Potting soil shouldn't look like mud. If it does there's not enough organic material in there, right? So, while I'm afraid Puppy might go into shock, I'm going to give her new soil in her new home.
The timing is another worrying part. She's been putting out new leaves. I don't want to interrupt her growth, and it's true that I really don't know that much about growing mangos, but it's an experiment. I may have to find someone with a greenhouse in a few years, but hopefully by then I'll have my own.
I'll be sure to take pictures once I move Puppy to her new home, you know, before she has a chance to go into shock and look sad and pathetic. Maybe this weekend, after I take my British Lit final.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
New Growth
Yesterday was a sad day for our nation as we remembered the attacks of 9/11. A heaviness lay on many of us all day. It was palpable, at least in my office. Things were somber. It soothed me to go out on the balcony and note that Puppy is putting out new leaves. Even in the remembrance of death and loss, life goes on. And this morning, the spikey plantings in front of the apartment had put up long shoots of purple flowers.
It's clearly fall, the tree at the end of the walkway (unknown species) is covered in luscious-looking ruby red berries. The trees have been host to mobs of birds all chattering to each other, hidden by the leaves, and suddenly by some signal I can't discern, the tree erupts with the beat of hundreds of pairs of wings, all lighting out at once only to land on another tree somewhere else and carry on the raucous conversation.
A bird flew around and around the balcony, checking the top of the post as if seeking out a nesting place, even though it is clearly the wrong time of year. Perhaps he was making note of it as a possibility for Spring nesting. Do birds do that? Do they have their own version of House Hunters International?
This activity cheers me, evidence of a world out there that is bigger and grander than our problems, that is far deeper than my own existence, or even that of my own country and her disputes around the world. The birds take no notice. They have no passports, yet they cross borders without any hassle. The follow the seasons, leaving one hemisphere behind, always heading forward.
There are trees which have stood in this land since it's founding...perhaps longer! There are trees that witnessed my grandfather play as a child, though he passed more than 30 years ago. These trees have withstood wars and rumors of wars, and will withstand this.
You will forgive me if I take this as evidence of a God who is beyond, who is bigger and greater, and who takes delight in each sparrow, and sorrows with each loss, but is steady and abiding and present. I can't explain it, but I can sense it...that something else, something more, something greater.
It's clearly fall, the tree at the end of the walkway (unknown species) is covered in luscious-looking ruby red berries. The trees have been host to mobs of birds all chattering to each other, hidden by the leaves, and suddenly by some signal I can't discern, the tree erupts with the beat of hundreds of pairs of wings, all lighting out at once only to land on another tree somewhere else and carry on the raucous conversation.
A bird flew around and around the balcony, checking the top of the post as if seeking out a nesting place, even though it is clearly the wrong time of year. Perhaps he was making note of it as a possibility for Spring nesting. Do birds do that? Do they have their own version of House Hunters International?
This activity cheers me, evidence of a world out there that is bigger and grander than our problems, that is far deeper than my own existence, or even that of my own country and her disputes around the world. The birds take no notice. They have no passports, yet they cross borders without any hassle. The follow the seasons, leaving one hemisphere behind, always heading forward.
There are trees which have stood in this land since it's founding...perhaps longer! There are trees that witnessed my grandfather play as a child, though he passed more than 30 years ago. These trees have withstood wars and rumors of wars, and will withstand this.
You will forgive me if I take this as evidence of a God who is beyond, who is bigger and greater, and who takes delight in each sparrow, and sorrows with each loss, but is steady and abiding and present. I can't explain it, but I can sense it...that something else, something more, something greater.
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