Lazy Cactus

 It just reached over to the agave stalk and leaned on it.

I thought the windstorm would knock it over, but like hung-over Lee Marvin and his horse in Cat Ballou, this cactus is desperately resting, or perhaps happily leaning, upon something stiffer than itself.

There are plenty of days like this: leaning on a buddy, or marching to the beat of a different drummer, or simply being lazy.

The Amaryllis Series

Amaryllis, saguaro and agave.
Mixed media: pixels on liquid crystal.
Three of series of seven.

Amaryllis, plough and cholla.
Mixed media: pixels on liquid crystal.
Four of series of seven.

Buddha, amaryllis and Zen.
Mixed media: pixels on liquid crystal.
Seven of series of seven.

Snow & Fog

Pope Greg's Eve passed without a blog comment, but not because it was dull. It snowed that night which, by itself, is a noteworthy occurrence in the Old Pueblo.

You do know Pope Greg's Eve, don't you? Even before the Eve was overcome by champagne vintners, big band parties, and the Times Square ball drop, and the day by college bowl games, January 1 was the feast day of Pope Greg who slew the pagan Julian calendar.

The snow settled only where the warmer ground didn't melt the ice, but folks in the city were talking about it for days.

This morning, the sky was getting lighter as I sipped my coffee and checked the weather on my tablet. Odd, isn't it, that we check the weather on the computer instead of going outside and experiencing it? It's like looking at your watch to decide whether you are hungry. Anyway, there was a weather advisory posted for Tucson.

Too curious to pass up, I touched the link and up popped up the warning: fog advisory.

About twenty minutes earlier, when it was still dark, I had looked out the bedroom window at the neighbor's driveway floodlight. It was clear.

I read the advisory with some disbelief, but went to the dining room window and opened the shutters. The entire Tucson basin was socked in. Cool.

Thinking it was only in the lower elevations, I checked the north side, towards the neighbor with the floodlight. It was socked in. Couldn't see past the first neighbor, much less the Catalina foothills or mountains. Very cool.

Walking Nazar down our street, I felt like I was in Lower Alaska where cold, damp, fog is a regular occurrence and a normal feeling. Here in the Sonoran Desert, it's maybe once a year.

One Story's End; Another's Beginning

If the 2014 Pre-Halloween to New Year Tiling Project is a story, it should have a better ending than "Pretty Much Done."

It is done.

The bedrooms are as fully functional as they were before we ripped out the carpeting. We also replaced a queen bed with a king so we both can toss and turn in our own private worlds. We have been using the master shower and toilet for over a week without incident. It is becoming routine. Even the bathroom door has been fixed so it doesn't squeak against the door jam anymore.

The full width of the front area
can now be traversed.

But life, unlike fairy tales, novels and movies, has no ending, happy or otherwise. Life goes on, as do projects. (Let's not even mention maintenance.) Funky bathroom cabinetry is due for a refinish, scheduled for after our winter vacation. Guest bedroom and my office need to be tiled. Maybe in summer.

Meanwhile, I've invested a Saturday and Sunday immersed in my comfort and revivifying zone: the garden. Mild sunny days are invitations to the great outdoors.

A small clump of green agave suckers.
Assuming you don't mind hidden critters,
just try to reach into the middle
with even a gloved hand.

The immediate area in front of the house and north of the driveway had suffered from neglect. During more than a year spent sitting south of the driveway imagining hillside paths in the gully and keeping up with and realizing Shari's vision for the vegetable garden, I'd walk by this front area on my way to collect or replace tools or hauling yard waste, and thinking to myself that I had no idea of what the front area should be.

Side-shoots from huge blue agaves had become large and were throttling a barrel cactus and a young saguaro. The smaller, green agaves in the bottom of the depression, which I had thinned out a few years back, had again become impenetrable with their multiple side shoots growing to maturity. I could see more and more chewed leaves and tiny turds.

It is necessary to mercilessly pull the botanical suckers while they are small and before they grow into a tangled equivalent of a briar patch mess cum rodent, squirrel, chipmunk and reptile refuge.

But all that grows green deserves respect. I planted twenty or more of the suckers, pulled at the price of careful digging, unnatural pulling motions, exhaustion, and tiny spikes that pierce leather gloves.

The smaller, green agaves are worse than the mighty blue ones. The green pull more easily, but they clump together more tenaciously and the spiny edges of their leaves are like the serrated blade of a sharp steak knife — except that steak knives usually aren't coated with a toxic irritant.

Either variety survives the trauma of replanting remarkably well. The beautiful, symmetrically exploding green and blue-green shapes of the transplants now grace driveway edges, begin to frame a garden entrance, complete some bare spaces between palo verdes and acacias in the northern gully hillsides, and are beginning to dot the open, somewhat barren hillsides of the south gully.

As if to declare a weekend well done, it's raining today.

New Year & It's Pretty Much Done

Shari finished grouting, cleaning, cleaning, cleaning, then sealing/hardening the grout, then cleaning the excess. Her skinned, bloody fingertips are slowly healing.

The square drain in the round hole is operational. Shower head and faucet were screwed in yesterday, Pope Greg Feast Day, and we ran some water through the shower. It works. At least apparently.

The new toilet we bought seven years ago was set, the water line was connected, and we flushed it several times. Trouble is, the water line is leaking at the toilet tank end. I'm hoping a new line plus teflon tape will cure the problem. I need another trip to the mega-hardware store.

Cautiously optimistic after taking documentary photos, I screwed on the new toilet seat this morning. Shari had already put fresh towels on the re-installed racks last night, proof her optimism blossomed before mine. I'm reserving final judgment until that water line to the toilet tank is trustworthy.

It's been more than ten weeks and it will be at least ten full weeks before everything is back in its accustomed place. But it's beginning to feel like it's done.