Showing posts with label miracles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label miracles. Show all posts

Thursday, February 19, 2015

A Good Day: Red Cone Ginger and Brazilian Red Cloak


Like the tulip tree that I wrote about before, this bush is right outside the building where I have Managerial Accounting this semester.  It is Megaskepasma erythrochlamys--I recognized it as a Brazilian Red-Cloak when I took a plant identification class a few years ago  It was blooming when classes started in August--and has continued to produce tall bracts of flowers.  
The bush is thoroughly tropical:  that is, it has huge leaves with flowers that pop bright red against them.  It was blooming when classes started in August--and has continued to produce tall bracts of flowers.
The flower bracts are about 18 inches high.

Spent flowerlettes show these long, white petals in the middle of the shorter red ones.  In the photo below, you can see two pairs of white petals at the base of the bract.
This view shows more of the inner, white pairs of petals all along the length of the flower.

The leaves have a long "drip spout" that keeps the rain from sticking to the surfaces and giving black  sooty mold--yeah, there really is stuff called "black sooty mold" that can coat the surfaces of leaves--preventing exposure to the sun and the process of photosynthesis.
I just spend part of this afternoon outside washing the black stuff off of an avocado tree.  The scale bugs were about done for the year--more than half the leaves were already dead.  I sloughed off the dried leaves, scrubbed the branches and remaining blackened leaves with slightly soapy water until it was gone.  When I first discovered the gardenia tree in my backyard 9 years ago, its leaves were also covered with this black, waxy layer.  I did the same thing then--and the tree is still alive and doing really well.  

Not a technically good photograph, but it gives a feeling of how big the whole plant is.
This afternoon was windy--actually cold until work warmed me up.  I was smart enough to wear gloves so my hands didn't chap . . . and my arms didn't get cut up when I washed off the leaves of the pineapple plants at the base of the tree.  After washing off the mom-plant, I found two babies that I detached and brought indoors.  I washed them off with a toothbrush in the kitchen sink--they are on the front porch waiting for tomorrow so that I can plant them at the base of one of the pine trees in the side yard.  
The leaves are alternating opposite attached to the stem.  When I broke off one to take a photo of the back of it, it came off with a cheerful "pop!"
back of the leaf
A few days after taking pictures of the Brazilian Red-Cloak, I was meeting Brent for lunch and found these Red Cone Ginger plants in the atrium between buildings (at FPL, Juno Beach).  The colours of the two plants are just alike:  the texture of the leaves and flowers are completely different.  The Red-Cloak leaves are soft and tender--the Ginger has stiff, smooth leaves . . . which are long . . . beginning at the base of the plant instead of along a rising stem.

These flowers are completely different from the Red-Cloak, too.  The flower bract opens like a pine cone and, at its base, sprouts off new stalks of flower.  It reminds me of the pineapple plants.  I imagine if I took one of these new flower starts that I could get an entirely new plant.  
base of the flower cone

Flower cone before opening.  Just like a Bird of Paradise, it slips up and out from the protective cover of the leaf stem.  

A mature flower with all of its "babies" also filled out.
Brent and I have been talking about what to do about the house.  His body is slowing down even faster than mine is . . . a fact that he ignores almost as well as I do.  The yard takes time and energy and money.  I have been collecting cool plants, bushes, and trees--which costs.  My initial desire to focus on my traditional favorites (mostly roses, fruit trees) has completely wained.  I now only plant things that would do well here if left alone in the middle of a field.  The avocado trees are beginning to bug me enough that if another one gets sickly, I am ready to simply have Nathan chop it down and Umburto dig out the roots.  I have fig trees that do not give figs, peach trees that do not give peaches, and avocado trees that do not give avocados.

On the brighter side, I have a mulberry bush that is brimming with tender, fuzzy berry starts; a lime tree that has one lime growing on it already and lots of white blooms ready to burst;  a mango tree covered with blooms, a Barbados cherry tree that produces cherries almost all year round.  Our star-fruit tree is a constant producer and the banana trees have cascades of green bananas . . . which will either freeze in a freak cold-snap or all ripen at the same time.  

When Brent was a child, he remembers his dad asking him what he wanted to do when he grew up.  He answered that he wanted to grow bananas--which his dad laughed at and told him would never happen.  Brent's mom corrected him and told Brent that he could do whatever he wanted to do.  He could do anything.

And now he grows bananas.

We have been following Irish Mike's Big, Giant Swords with interest.  He started by creating huge swords for his own pleasure and, this week, was able to pay some of his partners (who do parts of the swords so it can become a viable business) an actual paycheck.  !!!   My dad's own Orabrush business miracle began in a more traditional way--not on YouTube--and also grew into a company that created jobs.  

I wonder what I will do.

Today I worked in the yard (yeah!), went to class (yeah!), paid bills (yeah!), spend time with Nate (yeah!), and wrote in one of my blogs (especially yeah!).  

It has been a good day.








Tuesday, December 31, 2013

The Miracle of It All, Rabbits, and the Small-flowered Woolly Bean (Strophostyles leiosperma)

Small-flowered Woolly Bean (Strophostyles leiosperma)


The flowers on this legume are small--but beautiful.

This photo is courtesy of my dear husband, who indulges my evolving interests by getting me everything that
I could think to ask for . . . usually before I ask.
I love the shape of these compound leaves.  I have come to depend upon leaf shapes
more and more for identification.  Blossoms are usually what catches me eye, but leaf
details are always there.  Dependable.  I like that.

The afternoon is quiet today.  The rabbits aren't even bumping about in their enclosure.  

I was going describe where the buns live as a "cage," but that seems like such a cruel word.  They are dwarf bunnies, and they each started out with their own 32" X 32" enclosures.  There were four of them then.  

(My The Peter Journals blog is named after the first miniature rabbit who acquired me.)  

Now, though, there are only two rabbits left alive.


To the left is a photo of Roo right before I took her to be put to sleep.  She succumbed to a parasite infection in her brain--and lost control of her muscles.

Now Oops and Murphy remain.  Two of the original enclosures have been combined into a single 64" X 32" living space that occupies one wall of the family/TV room.  Oops and Murphy are accustomed to the air conditioning and get baths if I am thoughtless enough to offer treats that cause . . . ah . . . messy potty-going.  

The fact that it is enclosed obviously restricts their movements while they are inside--but in with them are toys that make noise--that they can throw around.  Some toys are attached to the walls or sides and they can be swung or knocked about.  There are things to chew with different textures and tastes--and two large, deep potty boxes layered with pine pellets and then aspen shavings.  Their boxes are changed every day and sometimes topped off with fresh timothy hay. 

So as far as I can tell, they should be happy and comfortable--but of course they leap from their home almost as soon as I open the door for their evening constitutional. 

Tonight I have given them run of the kitchen as well as the TV room . . . and Nathan just pointed out that they have both snuggled down behind me on the bottom floor of the cats' 4 story tower.  

With two huge rooms to explore and in which  to run, they have converged to cluster together, sharing the same 12" square of space.  

I see myself in these two rabbits.  

With the whole world to explore every day, with every possible physical necessity and comfort provided for me, with safety and love granted me at every turn--I do not stretch my mind or my body with the magnitude of time and resources I hold--but spend the afternoon reading or napping or thinking and writing about my thoughts.  

I keep myself inside myself--squirreled away inside my comfortable, "12 inch square" of space.

I would like to see the rabbits running and leaping; expressing joy and finding new places to explore--smelling new smells, seeing new colours, hearing new sounds.  But they do not.

When Brent gets home at night, I would like to have him look around our home--or look into my eyes--and see that something wonderful happened while he was gone.  

Today, though, Brent got home and I was asleep on the porch--on the swing that Nathan helped me assemble so that I could read scriptures in the afternoons this next year.

Brent found me asleep.  He woke me up and noticed that there were extra parts.  He looked at the swing and put the last two screws into the swing supports.  Then we went shopping for food to take with us on our fossil hunting trip tomorrow.

There was nothing that I had finished today.  There were no wild flights of fancy or duties fulfilled.  

But Brent came home anyway--and when he got here he stayed.  

I think, for me, that is the fancy, the duty--the magic and miracle of it all.


The flowers that actually become the bananas.