We always make a trip to the mountains in October. This trip is a bit different. There is evidence of Hurricane Helene scattered about. Some sites and trails we usually visit are closed. The weather could not be more perfect. These lively warm days must be a balm for the many who were terrorized by water and wind.
I will enjoy this time here being thankful that some of the places I love are undamaged and others will be restored by these resilient mountain residents in these precious little towns and the National Park Service.
Every fall I promise myself that I will not do this again. I tell myself tales of a Plant Purge Party in June or future construction of a greenhouse or conservatory. But the time slips by with a shoulder surgery or an injury or other more pressing needs until the weather turns cold and we find ourselves hurridly prepping and moving what seems like hundreds of plants indoors.
Plants taking turns at the windows.
I have never counted them. I do give many away, but they just keep thriving and multiplying. I only keep plants that I consider unusual and special. I have inherited a few and feel obligated to keep these orphans. I must be more hard-hearted about my commitments to adoption.
I guess I won’t be using my workbench again this winter. Sigh.
Plants that have been outside cannot be hauled in without preparation. Many must be trimmed. All pots must be flooded to encourage summer residents to move elsewhere. This includes insects, worms, lizards, snakes and maybe a sleepy toad.
Plants stashed behind the couch.
Schlumbergeras/ Christmas cacti have spent the summer under the camellia in partial shade. They get one last stinky feeding of a recipe I got from another blogger. This process did not go as planned this year. I have not spent much time on the lower level due to my new and damaged hips. When I began prepping my collection, big stems plopped out of the pots with no roots. The poor things had dried out and let go like a good cactus does when it needs to move on.
Schlumbergera pulling up roots and jumping ship.
So now I am rearranging and preening all plants again inside. They must be turned and rotated so they will not get misshapen. They must take turns in the sunny spots. Gardening may have slowed down outside, but inside it keeps going until spring.
Flower has issues.
Do not mention the dahlias… I keep promising myself I will leave them out and just mulch them. I always chicken out with my favorites. That is a whole different job.
Snow Country dahlia
I hope I will start keeping promises I make to myself for my own good. I am getting too old to be a pleaser and over-achiever.
She came and hovered in front of my face again yesterday. This tiny and shiny angel, looking into my eyes. I was so happy for another visit, that I did not realize the purpose. I knew she must leave. I knew it would be soon, but for once I was in the precious moment of whirling and flashing. This morning the drooping vines alerted me of the overnight cold. Another unacknowledged goodby. Like when I refused to cry at the awful news. Trying to make things better…bearable. Denying the coming cold…the coming loss. Another visit from another spirit that I desperately need to stay with me. Letting me know they will come and go.
My angels have feathers. One is blue and the other is a shiny, olive green.
We all know I need these rails now that I wobble and fall down. Crown Fence of Statesville had to custom make each one. It was a small job, so each set was installed whenever that piece was finished. They measured and took photos and re- measured. All the rails are very sturdy and securely attached to the decking and/or the poles are buried and concreted into the ground.
The railing down the center of the carport steps is long overdue. Two people have fallen down these previously.
These are the steps all deliveries come down. No telling how many of those folks have had issues.
The little steps at the spigot is the site of my accident on August 4th involving my bad, right hip causing a stumble off the walkway while wrestling a hose. This rail has been made wrong, so I am still waiting for the most important one to be installed.
Some pavers have been removed for the last single rail installation which will have one pole in the ground.
I’ve seen chipmunks jump this without missing a beat. Now, I have a compression injury that is still a problem two months later. All because of a thirsty plant.
The railing near the wellhouse got upgraded from a swizzle tomato stake. The installer deemed this green swizzle unfit and unsafe.
The dog steps have had a serious upgrade. These steps were thrown up so our two dogs could lie on the deck and watch us through the glass doors. These were no doubt dangerous.
For the dawgs.
The lovely railing is a huge improvement.
Much safer for a wobbly old person.
This set of steps goes to the new pebble patio. These were impossible for me to use all summer long. I am really happy to be able to escape off the deck safely.
Now, if I can just stop falling down in the yard things will be great.
I guess it is obvious to my followers that I am accident prone. My left hip is still bothersome after plummeting off the deck while holding a hose. My new right hip is great, but neither leg is strong yet. My mountain goat status has been put in jeopardy indefinately.
Well, today I got stuck on a bucket. This is the type of thing I would call Sandra about to make her laugh. We loved the word fiasco.
All I wanted to do was cut some of the broken dahlias for a vase before they got ruined. I grabbed some scissors and headed down to dahlia row.
Upon closer inspection I realized that months of neglect had caused havoc among the dahlias. One Thomas A. Edison had never even been put in a fence ring.
Poor Thomas
I started trimming them up but got very tired after only a few minutes. The only possible thing I could use as a seat was a nearby five-gallon bucket.
When I finished pruning all the plants within reach, I realized I could not get up off the bucket. Luckily, for me not for him, Mr. Flower was down the hill picking up limbs from Helene’s wind.
I loudly announced that I could not get up. Then I had the idea that if I fell off the bucket uphill I could push myself up. By the time he got to me I was cussing and crying with my face in the four o’clocks.
He helped me up and went to find a more suitable seat for me to sit on. He brought back an old church chair that I had painted bluebird blue.
I told him to look up here once in a while to make sure I wasn’t lying on the ground. He said he was sure that if I fell again, he would hear me before he saw me.
This is wisdom after almost forty years of marriage. He knows me well. My response was a loving hand-gesture.
There are two chipmunks that stay close to the house. Stubby has a short tail and Flash is fast as lightning. They both were on the deck this morning gathering acorns which constantly fall from the giant oak above. This is what I have referred to as the Magic Tree in past posts.
FLASH
This gorgeous tree has its roots in the septic lines so it has grown three times as fast as its neighbors. It seems to be leaning over the house now. I will stop there.
The Magic Tree full of acorns
Anyway, the acorns are plentiful and noisy. You cannot sit outside without threat of a ping to the head. Many times they bounce and hit the glass doors. This bounty is a boon for my tiny friends who stuff their jaws full and run to stash their booty.
This is what goes on here as the planes and helicopters fly overhead to help victims of Helene.
Friends around me and helpers overhead. Life is good.
I have done about all I can do at this point. I have donated supplies and money. I have offered showers and shelter. Rose is sending supplies to displaced friends directly. They are safe but with almost nothing to wear. Think of starting over with nothing. It is hard not to feel guilty as I rest comfortably today after a busy week of headless chicken mode. Both hips are healing well. I have carefully gone down steps and took my first shower standing up. The pain reminded me to back off a bit. The world has changed again. I am happy to see humanity at work and furious to see rumors of false information.
We must be our very best during the worst of times.
The feature is of my walker I painted glossy plum for my 45th class reunion. I colored my white hair, too. I could not stand the thought of showing up looking old. It might depress my classmates, you see.
Did I dance? Only once…with my walker. I will always be a fool for my friends.
floweralley 