That's it. We've officially turned the page on autumn. The pool was put to sleep this morning. We had one last beautiful weekend with it.
And now we'll plant the fall vegetables and pansies. The air is already changing. The windows are open. The vernal equinox has passed. Everything's changing.
One more bit of our past behind us.
| | |
|
It's hard to believe, but our tomatoes are still covered in fruit.
We've only had late season tomato luck with the free range cherry tomatoes by the driveway. These are heirlooms. One of them has over forty green fruits on the plant. It's astonishing.
And I've just about completely neglected them lately. Fresh ripe tomatoes in September. What are the odds of that?
| | |
|
No matter how many years have passed (thirty-two) since I moved away from Richmond, I have always considered it to be my home. Despite the fact that I have no dwelling to call my own there, it is the place that holds my heart. I grew up with some of the nicest people I have ever met in all of my wanderings. They are the family that resides in my spirit.
I was supposed to spend the day, furiously packing my bags for home.Tying up loose ends. Making apologies to the dogs. Instead, I am wandering around in circles like a dog looking for a good spot to lie down.
My oldest and dearest friend --the one who made my teen years fun and exciting --the one who forged gallantly through the wilderness of our youth to adulthood --is leaving for a place that won't allow her to come back.
I thought I could get to her in time, but her husband called me yesterday. She is slipping away quicker than first thought. Visitors (and the medications she has to take for pain) make her nervous. Not wanting to add to her distress, I cancelled my trip.She needs to do this in her own brave way.
Going home will never be the same again.
| | |
|
Yesterday morning, around 8:30, as Hud and Zoe were making their way back from the church yard next door, Hud noticed a tiny dog marching determinedly towards North Parkway. He let Zoe in the house, crossed the street and scooped her up. She appeared to be the littlest Bassett hound I have ever seen. A slight six or seven pounds. Smaller than Simone!
On her collar was her name, Joy and a phone number. Hud called it and left a message. Joy never made a peep. Did not chew anything. Did not beg for food. Clearly she was in the wrong house.
As the day wore on, we began to suspect she had been dumped. No returned calls. No tearful people with empty leashes searching the street. (As Howard had done to me once.) No flyers pinned to the light posts.
Sundays are lazy at the Hudarosa. We popped in a Six Feet Under and snuggled in to the couch. Zali and Simone refused to allow her up, so I sat on the floor with tiny Joy.
I officially look like an animal hoarder in this shot. Okay, make that just hoarder with all the dog toys and magazines and Zoe's yogurt plastic. And dogs. Lots of dogs.
At 8:15, twelve hours after Hud saved her from the bright lights of Memphis on her way to the Commodor Hotel, Joy was beginning to fold in to the family. She was sleeping soundly on my leg, when a knock at the front door, startled us out of our comfort. It was Joy's family. They had finally checked the home answering machine.
Her people had come to take her home.
I kissed her sad hang dog face.
And then they took my Joy away.
| | |
|
I know I've told you about my grandmother traumatizing me in my thirties by springing from the bathroom, soaking wet and singing, "I'm naked!" Right?
The horror.
So every summer, around August, you can here me crooning, "I'm NAKED!" as I stroll through the naked ladies. I've told you we live next to a church. Right?
There are great stands of them congregating about the yard. But I admire the way this one has cloaked herself in a blanket of daisies. So modest. See how she blushes?
Yes, she's complementing the tomatoes. Much like this fellow:
The gardens are a daily surprise.
| | |
|
I know I need to change the water in the fountains, but I can't. No, I'm not too busy or too lazy. We have baby fish!
*They were so fast I couldn't get them in the shot. Maybe when they're bigger.*
In both the front and back fountains! There is no truth to the fact that I squeed upon the original sightings.
Okay. But it was small and heard only by Mouse, the neighborhood stray. And perhaps Bob and Maryann across the street. And maybe at the vacation bible school going on next door. But that's all.
We've had fish in the fountains for years. I even had crawfish in the back a couple of times. They were terribly bright. Big Daddy would come to my dinner call and climb a screen, lean backwards and demand allow me to drop food right in his gullet.
But never have we been blessed with babies. Ever. Not in twelve years. But this year both fountains? How exciting. There seem to be five in the front - three golden, one black and a very fashionable white one who has accessorized with black fins. In the fountain under the New Dawn rose in the back, I have only seen one, but oh! Is he attractive. White underbelly, pale yellow sides and a black racing stripe from his upper lip to the end of his tail fins. I named him Earnhart, because he looks like a race car.
But you can call him Dale.
| | |
|
Things are finally getting into a groove around here now that Hud is gainfully employed! He is the Director of Operations/ Administrative Dept at SRVS. He is so very happy. It is all rainbow glitter and unicorns around the Hudarosa.
Please go to Blogher.com and check out my review of Terry McMillan's sequel to Waiting to Exhale. The heroines are at it again, trying to gracefully navigate their lives. http://www.blogher.com/getting-happy-terry-mcmillan
Much like we are doing here.
| | |
|
Hud came back from running with Zoe this morning. Misty-eyed, he cradled a small package in his hands, carried it to the garden and buried it.
He had found a mother robin on the trail. Still in her nest. Her eggs broken on her chest. A sad symbol of the deadly storms that ravaged the south these long three days.
To read more, please go to: http://canikeepit.typepad.com/the_/
| | |
|
Life in my Animal House is a never ending adventure.
To view the rest, please go to: http://canikeepit.typepad.com/the_/
| | |
|
First off, let me say two things emphatically: this is Terra, and I want to apologize up front to Paula and all of our other friends who are snowbound and dog-sick of the white stuff. Here in Memphis a snowfall is a rare (though getting less rare in the new millennium) and wonderful event. Memphians, particularly Midtowners like us, feel an urgency to run to Sessell's and buy bread, beer, and milk. Even if we have a house full of it, we just have to do it. Politicians, being ever-aware of such driven behavior, hurry there at the first announcement of snow possibility and pass out campaign literature. Photographers, such as I, put on our boots and wade out into the wintry wonderland to see if we can find some shape or form that we have not seen and captured in days gone by. Here is what our most recent snowfall looked like through my eyes and lens.
To my eyes, even the ordinary, mundane piece of gardening equipment takes on a new personality when you add snow.
As you can seed, the snow was light and fluffy at the Hudarosa, and, thankfully, covered the remaining dead leaves which have been begging me, to no avail, to rescue them from their watery existence.
Remarkably, Furry's fish are staying awake for the winter in this fountain, thanks to the heater that we replaced last winter.
It was a beautiful, clear day after the snow fell, and looking across the street at our favorite neighbors' homes was a visual gourmet dinner.
Out in the corral, Furry's Mustang waited for the snow to melt. Though it is 7 years old, it's still our new car, and we take the truck when it rains, snows, or when birds fall from the sky. I am not kidding.
If there is such a thing as just the right amount of snow, this was it. The pool deck never looked better.
Dr. Freud, call your office, and tell me why, after 50-odd years of making photographs, do I still enjoy looking at the world through the v-neck of a tree?
It's a rare quality of light that opens a shadow up so nicely as these on the chairs.
And nothing is so rare in Memphis as a beautiful, blue sky, framed at the bottom by another very open shadow. Ah, what a beautiful world we have!
The tufts of snow make this already interesting bench embellishment even more so.
A throne fit for a snow king.
More happy fish in a not-so-frozen fountain. Furry loveth well all creatures great and small.
The roses will have to wait a few months to put on their climbing shoes.
The carcas of the yard's biggest lily (about 10 feet tall this year) strikes an interesting pose.
The robins were putting on their ice skates when I took this shot.
Funky chicken, frozen stiff.
Praying mantis, praying for warmer weather.
Hey, Cory, remember when we shot these fans on the pool deck. It wasn't much warmer, like February or some such. Earliest we ever opened the pool.
Something smells farty, Dad.
Love the shadows and the snow on the bench.
Simone, catching the rays, or else the last little snippet of Zoe's flatulence. You decide.
Simone wants to do the ASPCA shots with Sarah McLachlan. She certainly has the cinematic chops for it.
This one's for you, Duffy Lou. Come rescue me now. These people are bastards, I promise you.
This is my best side. Or maybe it's the other side. Hell, I'm beautiful from any side. Get over it!
Ok, now it's Zali's turn. Mommy is sorta like a montessori school teacher.
Anybody got any wine they don't need. Preferably French, like me.
Somebody dropped some food around here.
My beautiful tail is getting all snowy, and my handsome feet are cold. This stuff is cwap, I tell ya.
Say goodnight, Gracie. Goodnight, Simone and Zoe. Goodnight, Monsieur Zali. Thanks for letting me hijack you blog, Furry.
| | |
|
Recent Comments