Author: Flower Roberts

The Heart of the Matter

| Flower Roberts

I’ve been trying to get down to the heart of the matter. It has taken months of digging through old letters and photographs. These artifacts are like portals to the past. I am facing things I locked away. I have seen who I was before I was corrected and realigned.

I have had to accept that our culture’s expectations for both men and women have been limiting to both genders. Needless burdens are carried and strengths are repressed. It has taken great effort for me to admit that things I thought were moral were actually cultural. As a mother of both a young man and a young woman, it is imperative that I get my vision unbiased.

I do not intend to shackle either of my children with roles from this dichotomous culture. The roles of women, especially, have been augmented by patriarical standards for generations. I intend to stop that in my family here and now.

Another epiphany peeked out this morning. I was not expecting the truth that showed itself. But I guess I knew the truth all along. That is why this rare argument with my precious father has never let me go. Not after forty years. I know he would understand. Maybe the second-hand apology and the delayed sharing were part of the plan to get me here at this point in time.

Sometimes traveling back to the past shows you things you did not see the first go-round. Those memories you thought were locked away forever, have been waiting for you to be ready to finally look them in the eye.

This part of the journey will be done slowly, quietly and methodically. I cannot miss the lessons this time around. My past has my full attention. Our future will be better because of it.

FLOW

Always untamed and unchained…until

A Single Word

| Flower Roberts

April was supposed to be the beginning of my writing odyssey in the mountains. I have not written a single word of the book I have started. The Universe had other plans for me. I am used to this. I roll with the waves.


On April 1, my ninety-three-year-old mother was diagnosed with double pneumonia, sepsis and a UTI. She was taken to the hospital. An IV of fluids and antibiotics was started. She faded. She pulled the IV out and screamed with every touch.


We decided what she needed was peace. We stood by her bed feeding her ice chips and finely chopped food. Hospice was set up for comfort measures. She rallied enough to be sent back to her nursing home next door.
An angry rash developed that robbed her of her peace. Its source has been the subject of speculation. Her withered hand was in constant movement.

Mama Kiki

Treatments were changed but the rash kept spreading. No one could stop it. Our hearts hurt for her. She finally rested. Many good people kept eyes on her, knew her, loved her. We were blessed beyond words.


Our final gift was she knew us, spoke to us with her usual grace and manner. Dementia let her loose for that last day. We were who we were there in Room 11. We were who we had always been.

Who we were

She slept through the night. Mama was peaceful in the morning and left in a wink to be with all the people she loved on the other side. I had been reciting all their names for days,  in whispers. I do this to comfort myself that she will not be alone.

My only word for now is gratitude. My parents were the best they could be just as their parents had been. Many folks helped care for her, especially Debbie, Monique and Frances. We had angels with us the whole journey.

Gratitude for good end to a great life. That’s the word.

Thank you Mama Kiki

Helping Azaleas Thrive

| Flower Roberts

It is always the expensive plants that have the most problems. The cheap, scrappy ones take care of themselves, like stray mutts. Maybe they are forced to because garden centers just toss them if they are needy. Artificial selection occurs before the plants are even purchased.

Cheap mutts looking lovely.


My mutt azaleas ask for nothing from me. The hybrids, however, demand special treatment. I have two that are gorgeous right now ONLY because I hobbled down the hills to handle their issues last summer.


The first is this fuchsia type between the entrance bridge and the fish pond. It gets an insect-borne fungus every summer. Its leaves get brown, spotty and shrink. If I do not move fast…which is not likely lately, it almost dies.

Fuchsia hybrid gets an insect- borne fungus.each summer.


I must cover the pond with a sheet of plastic and spray the entire shrub. I also use a granular systemic treatment that I water in to start it dissolving into the soil.

My favorite 4 for spray and systemic treatments.

Last year I also trimmed it back to shape it as I held on to my purple walker. This is love.

Happy after fall treatments


It looks sickly til spring, but perks back up, as you can see. I looked for its marker, but was afraid of falling into the shrub. EMS knows my address!


This other beauty has a different problem. Our neighborhood herd of deer cannot resist its tender twigs.

Tastey azalea next to magic oak stump from last month’s posts.


It must be totally wrapped in deer fence and trimmed to prevent snacks from sticking through the mesh. I do not know its name either. I love what I love. Sometimes I bring home attractive strangers.

Deer mesh enclosure.


The deer mesh is almost invisible. I have enough ugly fence throughout the gardens. Its also easy to move and folds up to store.

I must omit the best show of all down the hill. My neighbor, Nancy, left explicit instructions for me to be careful today while she is gone. My careteam is tired of the trauma. I know Jamie Rambo will save me if I go down again…but I would rather not have doctors pulling my leg  back into position for the third time.

Yet another piece of old-lady medical equipment. Ho Ho!


In a few weeks you will see a firey show from some wild favorites! Stay tuned.



FLOW

ELIZA WATERS sent a comment about systemics and bee death. I will check on these two products. Do not buy until I do. Eliza knows her stuff. She alerted me to a harmful hybrid butterfly weed years ago that I had to dispose of. Go ELIZA!

UPDATE:

BOTH these products have substances that harm bees. Their labels DO NOT have the standard two bee-killer ingredients. I had to research its active ingredients to get this information.

Imidacloprid is in BONIDE SYSTEMIC GRANULES. This was bought from a trusted supplier. I will not be this careless again.

Acephate and Tebuconazole are in BioAdvanced All-in-One Rose and Flower Care. This one was recommended by an owner of a garden center years ago. May these ingredients were not researched well back then.

I know to look out for neonicotinoids. NOW THERE 52 INGREDIENTSON THE BAD FOR BEES LIST.

We all will have to research products BEFORE purchasing.

WOW

Bees are so much more important that picky flowers and shrubs.

THANK YOU ELIZA!

Epimediums in Dry Shade

| Flower Roberts

Epimediums are one of my easy-care favorites for spring. I have my collection right beside the paver perimeter of the pebble patio, so their complex blooms can be noticed.


These tough little plants have heart-shaped leaves and dainty blooms on wiry stems.
I was not home to remove old growth earlier in the spring, but all three seem undisturbed by the neglect.

White Epimedium


White is the smallest and a slow-grower. Both yellow and orange spread more quickly with bigger, brighter leaves.

Yellow Epimedium

I call these Fairy Flowers because they have perfect size and form for fairy gardens.

FLOW

Pest with a Nest

| Flower Roberts

I blew off the entrance bridge this morning. As I walked back across the porch, I noticed fresh grass on the mat. This has happened before. Last time it was a Phoebe.

Poem about that here.

The Phoebes and I are No Longer Friends


I thought I had corrected the issue with a tight ring of hardware cloth which covers the top of the lamp and extends up to almost touch the ceiling.


I have been outdown by a tiny bird. This is not unusual here. It seems that tiny creatures are smarter than I am quite often.

I will wait to see which of my little friends has chosen to set up house on my porch. A Titmouse just scolded me. Is it she? Nope. She is in a house in the carport.

I had my Merlin App listen for possible suspects. See the screenshot below. Only a few are small enough.

Merlin App list of birds recorded.

I waited as patiently as an impatient person can, but never saw the nester. The nest must be removed. It is not only a mess-maker, it is also a fire hazard.

Somebody id. this nest.

Don’t hate on me bird people. I have enough problems without adding housefire to the list. Remember, I rescue mice, spiders and snakes.

FLOW

The New Mountain Mailbox

| Flower Roberts

A lot has happened in the first 8 days of my  April Writing Odyssey. My reseach was going great. I needed more books, so I needed a mailbox.
My only requirement for it was a flamingo flag. I was pleased that such a thing existed. My family helped me attach it securely to the uninteresting flag it came with and put it up in line with all the other mailboxes for the neighborhood.

Mountain Mailboxes
FLAMINGO FLAG


Why a flamingo? Because of Daddy of course. While he was dying, he said if there were jobs in heaven, he would like to help the birds. He paused. We were expecting him to say helping the bluebirds. Instead he said, “Maybe the flamingos. I think they may need help.”


I thought his dream house needed a Flamingo Flag.

FLOW

THENs and NOWs

| Flower Roberts

I am tackling some hard questions as I lay out my plans for the three different storylines. I was kept awake last night by the imbalance of the three parts. I have drawn these out has three sets of circles. The working title for the book is TIME CIRCLE TRIO, but that will morph like many other parts.

The characters in the oldest story are long gone. The journals of the main character were burned, rightly so. I have hundreds of photos and artifacts from the life of the first pair, but only one photo and a sad newspaper clipping of the supporting man. This is so not fair and must be dealt with. He was a person, not a prop.

The second story involves two men who have passed on and a woman who has dementia. The catalyst for this tale was some things she said while she was already suffering from dementia, so they may not be true. There is no one alive to correct this. I do have many old letters so I do feel like I can get a good grasp on these characters. But there was no smoking gun, only the ramblings of an old woman struggling with confusion.

The latest story morphs on a regular basis. This is because there are THEN and NOW  factors that must be teased apart. The THEN was over forty years ago and the NOW involves a conversation over five years ago and a revelation about it last spring. This needs clarification.

The THEN was a beast to deal with at the time. Judgement was called into question at a point when many important choices needed to be made. Confidence was shattered and perspective was altered. This result seemed to snowball over the next year and beyond.

When the third NOW occurred there was grief and loss in every direction. The past was being frantically sifted through until it seemed to transform and expand to confuse what was real and of value. The NOW has no chance to be remedied or clarified due to death and memory loss. So this circle keeps getting bigger with no possibility for balance.

The one thread that links all three circles is faith in judgement. Does anyone have a right to make decisions for another adult? In these cases, do the parents have the right to make decisions for their young, adult daughters? And when they do(which they did), what are the extrinsic and intrinsic results? Maybe what looks from the outside to be the wrong choice is really the right choice from a different perspective?

In these three stories I have observed the THEN parts of these three young women and the NOW (results) decades later.  Their over-ruled hopes and dreams were still alive in these three as older women. That’s the gist of it. The prevented  mistakes they were not allowed to make were not mistakes to them.

Ouch!

From Solid to Fluid

| Flower Roberts

My isolation odyssey starts on April Fools Day. This is appropriate since the argument with my dad that changed everything involved my supposedly being made a fool of. This pivotal point in my past was based in love and misunderstanding. My dad was the best person I have ever known. He loved me unconditionally despite the fact that I was another daughter, not a son.

So my past has shifted from rock solid to fluid in the past year. The present swirls with political upheaval and I have let go of my expectations for my future. There is no solid ground to plant my feet on.
I am strangly at peace in my floating, sinking and flinking. It has been a bit freeing not being the pole that others dance around. I am no longer holding down a fort or holding up the sky.

My talisman

I credit this peace to my friend Sandra. We used to use the term adapt like it was our code word. I have felt her with me many times since her death. I brought her framed photo here to keep her in my mind as I swim through the next month or more in isolation to write and change my mind from solid to fluid.

Papyrus card I send to friends hit by waves.

My new talisman is a wave pendant on a necklace and a shirt with the Kanagawa wave on it to remind me that energy moves and change is constant.

Kanagawa wave T-shirt

I may blog through April or I may be silent. Just know I am doing my best to tell three stories of three women from three generations in my family who were prevented from following their heart’s desire for their “own good” and how that turned out for them.

Paternalism is a double-edged sword. Men may be able to make women do what they want them to do, but they cannot make them WANT to do what they want them to do.

FLOW is flowing.