In the Fullness of Time

This weekend my brother planted the orange tree I gave him.

For Christmas.

The poor thing has been sitting in its pot either in the lanai or out in the back yard since December 26. Who knows how long it sat in the nursery before that. (Best guess: Not nearly as long.)

At first he wanted to wait for the weather to warm up, which made sense. It would do no good to plant it if there was a chance of a freeze. Then, for a long time after any possibility of a freeze had passed, I don't know what the excuse was except the redneck tendency to never quite finish (or start) any project. At first, he said he didn't know where he wanted to put it. Later it was too hot to work outside (frequently true), then too rainy (sometimes true). Then he needed to buy fertilizer first. That took a month or so to get around to. Then he discovered irrigation pipes tangled in the roots of the (stunted) lemon tree which he originally intended to dig up and replace with the orange.

Yesterday, as I was looking out the sliding door to the lanai, I noticed the orange tree was no longer parked next to the lemon but was back in the far corner of our property past the smaller of our coconut palms. And it was in the ground. And while I was looking my brother took a gallon of water out to it. Knowing his green thumb, it will probably thrive. Of course, the tools he used are still stuck in the ground next to the tree and will be until they are eventually needed somewhere else.

I hadn't said aloud that I would never by him another plant again, but maybe he sensed it anyway.

And maybe I will reconsider.

Miscellania

The kittens (a term not to be used much longer considering their sizes) insist on pushing their toys under doors then doing various gymnastic moves in vain attempts to retrieve them. Considering the typical Florida open plan layout of this house, I am surprised how many closed doors there actually are around here (my room, my bathroom, the front closet, the laundry room,  . . .). No matter how many times I rescue the catnip mouse or stuffed fish and place them in the middle of the living room, the cats inevitably end up playing right next to a door, with predictable results. The next round of toys will have to be bigger than the gap between floor and door.

Paribanour has darkened up some and her chipmunk stripe has blended in to the point of near invisibility. It's now noticeable primarily as a glossy line down her back as opposed to the matte gray of the rest of her fur. She has, however, developed a raccoon ring tail in the meantime.

There's some sort of bug I have yet to see that bites (or stings) without warning leaving a swollen spot similar to a mosquito bite that turns into a red patch the size of a thumbnail and lasts the better part of a week itching like hell the entire time. It's gotten me four times now, three of them either through or under clothing.

Our sweet red peppers and cherry tomatoes are coming along nicely although my brother tends to pick the tomatoes before they're fully ripe in an effort to keep local varmints from getting at them. It works but we're missing out on some juicy ripeness as a result.

Speaking of cherries (the real kind), the cats love them. They're perfect for batting around and playing kitten football. Even in season and on sale, they're expensive enough down here for me to take them away and rewash them. At least the tooth and claw marks are merely indentations and not punctures. The show no interest in the grapes or tomatoes even though they all share space on the counter.

Our mango tree is generating a second crop for us. The new mangoes are limited to the eastern quadrant of the tree but there are maybe a couple dozen decent size ripening up there. Neighbor Mike's mango tree is full. He likes ours better. When we first gave him some of ours a few years ago, he enjoyed them so much he ran right out and bought his own tree, but it's a different species he doesn't think is as sweet.

Public Service Scare Tactics

Our local public radio station is trying to hawk their (totally useful and really a good idea for when the power goes out) wind-up radio receivers, for which one has to make a hefty donation to the station, by using the line "you know our weather can change from moment to moment without any warning so be prepared."

Uh, no.

This is the most predictable weather I've ever seen (outside of San Diego where they just post "sunny and 68F" and leave it up 360 days a year). The seven day forecasts are accurate. Rainy Season begins within 48 hours of its scheduled start every year. If they say clouds will roll in during the afternoon, the clouds obligingly stay away until after lunch. It may not always be pleasant what with the heat and humidity and general muggy swampiness, but it's virtually never surprising.

Even our worst weather, the stuff for which you'll actually need a wind-up radio, is identified so far in advance that it can be individually named and tracked by computer.

So, yes, get the radio. Be prepared. Stock up. Plan for the worst case. But if you don't, if something goes wrong, no one will believe you if you claim you were surprised.

It's All About the Values

The county immediately south of us, which likes to pride itself on its ritzy image, is witnessing a delightful set of lawsuits.

It seems Larry Flynt, the notorious publisher of the equally notorious skin mag Hustler, is suing his little brother Jimmy over use of the family name in Jimmy's "Flynt Sexy Gifts" sexy gift shop while the county zoning officers are accusing him of running a sexually oriented business, which would seem to be a logical assumption given the name "Flynt Sexy Gifts" and the sexy gifts allegedly on offer there but which Jimmy nevertheless denies is the case, all of which has brought enough unwanted attention to the property that the landlord now wants Jimmy out despite Jimmy's claims that he has not violated the lease.

Apparently, this sort of thing is common in the Flynt family. According to Jimmy, "My brother and I have been together in courtrooms and been against each other in courtrooms, courtrooms is [sic] familiar territory to us, it doesnt bother us."

Meanwhile, all we have up here is the FBI swooping in and interviewing every city official except the mayor in regards to some land deals, a road widening project and a redevelopment plan for the downtown waterfront. In other words, the boring usual stuff.

This is why their county is better than ours. They get the juicy salacious stuff. We just get the graft.

Stood Up By Chantal

So, Tropical Storm Chantal collapsed before hitting the Bahamas and is now just a "wave."

All the projected tracks had it well east of us, over the east coast and Miami, so we were never too concerned. As it is, yesterday was beautiful as was most of this morning. A very heavy band of dark cumulus rolled in from the southeast just before noon full of threats and promises but continued right on past without fulfilling any of them beyond a little thunder and a quick shower.

Which is just as well since, with all the regular rain we've been getting lately, the canals are pretty well full and the ground is saturated. It's not going to take much to put us back into a flood warning and maybe actual flooding. As it is, the water table is so high each new storm forces the burrowing owls up and out of their dens and onto the handy little crucifixes put up by the protective society.

More of the Sweetest Cat I Have Ever Known

We found a few more pics of Bartleby. These show off her green eyes and don't-bother-me attitude.

She was with us for about a year and a half. She just showed up in the back yard one day all skin and bones and bedraggled matted fur. My brother took her in based on the philosophy that "No cat is going to starve to death on my property!" She recovered nicely.

                                                          

Her hips were weak, possibly dysplasiac, although they never caused her any apparent pain or lack of mobility except an unwillingness to jump very far. We never did figure out how old she was. Neighbor Dan thinks she was older than she looked and may have "just stopped" yesterday. We have no evidence to the contrary.

For all her pretend aloofness, she really did like to cuddle and be petted and groomed and treated like the princess she knew she was.

Paribanour displays a similar sweet disposition but she'll never be another Bartleby.

Once again, goodbye lovely cat.

The Sweetest Cat I Have Ever Known

My brother and I buried Bartleby this morning.

Bartleby

She died sometime late last night/early this morning. I found her when I brought food out for her. Usually, she'd come when she heard the sound of kibble hitting her dish and she never strayed far from her live oak tree anyway. Today she didn't come, even when I called. I found her on the other side of the driveway looking just as she always did when lazing out under her tree. She had no wounds we could see and we have no clue as to cause of death.

Bartleby, In Repose, Hoping To Not Be Inconvenienced

I made fun of her for her unwillingness to do, or be bothered by, anything. But that was actually the best part of her character, her sweet disposition. She let lizards skitter between her paws. She wouldn't chase the birds away from her food. The crows, in particular, would walk around within a few feet of her. But whenever my brother or I would leave or come home she would come out and sit by the edge of the driveway--sometimes in the driveway--to greet us, rub up against our legs, and snuggle a bit while we scratched her ears. Whenever we worked in the yard, she would supervise, sitting or lying right in front of us while we worked around her. I have never known a gentler animal.

Yesterday was our first good day in weeks. Perfect, really. Warm and sunny with a strong variable breeze, high clouds and no humidity. I took my yogurt and book and sat out under the live oak with Bartleby for the entire afternoon. Occasionally, she would stretch and I would pet her or scratch her ears or under her chin but mostly she just lay curled up against my legs with her head resting on my feet. I am so grateful for yesterday.

Bartleby, Pretending Not To Notice

We wanted to bury her under her live oak but the roots were too thick and tangled so my brother dug a hole in a ring of coral stone under the coconut palm where he had buried another cat of his years ago. We wrapped her in a white towel and, after petting her for the last time and telling her what a good cat she was and how happy we were that she'd chosen to stay with us and the joy she'd given us, we put her in the ground still in her towel shroud. I poured the dish of kibble I'd brought out for her this morning into the grave and we covered her over.

When we were done, I noticed for the first time a small gray ceramic figurine of a reclining feline, a good representation of Baby, the cat previously interred here years ago, in the grass. We'll have to get a calico one to accompany it now.

Bartleby, Stifling a Laugh

Goodbye, Bartleby.

Downloading Plans for an Ark

Well, the rain keeps coming down in torrents despite promises otherwise by the weatherfolk. We get occasional breaks, long enough to drive to the store or the library usually, but then the skies blacken and the lightning returns and the thunder rolls over and we're back under water again. The mango tree was starting a second crop and between the rain and the wind a half dozen not-quite-ripe mangoes have been knocked down so far. They're salvageable.

The canals are all full to the brink (but they have been for a while now) and we are under a flood warning. The swale around our property and the lower part of the driveway are under water as is the low part of the back yard. Some roads have been flooded although not near us. The swales, ditches and low spots by the sides of the roads, however, are all wet and rising.

The local paper reminds us that we are the lightning capital of the country. A sheriff's patrol car was struck by lightning out on the Interstate yesterday damaging the flasher light assembly on the roof. I'm sure it got the deputy's adrenaline flowing, too.

Also, the mosquito control agency is warning everyone that the continuous storms are not only creating standing water everywhere that will invite increased breeding of our 48 different species of bloodsuckers but are also preventing the spray planes from flying. So, we're on our own for now.

At least the birdbath doesn't need daily replenishing although no one visits it now, either. I did see a dove bathing in the driveway.

Jasmine and her daughters are not fans of thunder especially when the strikes are within a quarter mile of the house as they were all night long the night before last. They're not as bad as a dog would be in similar circumstances but they do huddle together in one big soft, fluffy pile of nervous energy.

And still Bartleby prefers being under the lawn chair beneath the live oak to the comforts (and dryness) of the garage.

Sign of the Times

Stenciled on the back window of the bed cap of a pick-up truck driving down one of our major thoroughfares:

99c   tomatoes

                                                                                     per pound

No name. No address. No phone number. No web address.

Nevertheless, I presume it's some sort of (ineffective) promotion for locally grown produce and not a political manifesto calling for reduced prices along the lines of "The rent's too high!" Unfortunately, I have neither the time, gasoline nor inclination to follow him around hoping he'll lead me to a bargain.