Things That Prickle and Bite

Esperando and I are in Denver for the next few days for various appointments and we can’t overlook the necessary tidying of the yard. In addition to all the trimming back and replacing of plants that froze to death this past winter, we have serious weed patrol. Unfortunately we seem to have our share of daytime and nighttime mosquitos which made a meal out of me while I was trimming our rose bushes.

It also seems our yard has been overwhelmed by these giant horrid prickly thistles trying to take over the lawn and the garden. They are worse each time we come back; it is obvious that they are putting out runners, because they cluster together and grow like aspen trees in a grove.

Nasty thorns and indominitable growth habits

Our neighborhood rag, Front Porch recently ran an article on them, “Canada Thistle Requires a Weed War on All Fronts” which is pretty discouraging for people who live here year round, let alone folks like Esperando and I that are here so infrequently. Apparently they reproduce by runner and seed. Once established they put down 15 foot roots! Just a ¼ -inch piece of root is enough to get them started. If you start pulling them out and chopping up the roots that just stimulates more plants to develop. They recommend a combination of stressing them by mowing them and applying 2,4-D combination herbicides. Then in 2 years they may go away. Yeah good luck, last time I was here I carefully squirted a spot where they were coming up in the lawn with Roundup because I was tired of bending over and pulling them out and by the time I was back to California the lawn service was calling me up to ask if I had sprayed something on the lawn as I had killed a large patch of grass. Yip, that would be me, lawn killer par excellence. The thistles just thumbed their collective noses at me and grew taller.

Denver is rife with hornets in the summer. My mother called them buzzy-whizzies as a child.

Talk about not giving up--in addition to hardy thistles we have obstinate hornets. I noticed hornets flying in and out of my antique watering can’s nozzle. I decided they must be building a nest and figured if I opened the closed hatch on the top of the watering can maybe they would abandon hive to move somewhere else like a bird might. The can was right next to some lawn chairs we were wanting to sit on. I opened up the watering can, but added daylight didn’t seem to bother them any. Finally from a distance I used the hose to start pouring water in to the can. Seven or eight hornets came roaring out of the can and hovered by the stream of water coming from the hose. They were unhappy with the water entering the can but fortunately didn’t seem to realize that I was the one directing the flow. Once the can was filled they kept hovering over it wanting to rescue the infantile hive.

I figured after 20 minutes they would get discouraged and go away, but oh, no, they were hard-wired. I never saw such righteous mothers. Finally I went into the house and returned armed with a can of Raid and sprayed them. The fumes were scented and I inhaled a lot of them. It didn’t seem to have much effect on the hornets, but I am sure I poisoned myself. When I directed the spray at them they would fly away, then came right back again. About 5 pm they began to settle on the lip of a nearby flowerpot to spend the night so they could take up their vigil the following day. Then I really nailed them with the Raid. A couple escaped but didn’t return again. I felt like the General George Armstrong Custer of wasp killers, except I was still standing. I had drowned their nest and murdered all the moms except a couple who escaped with their scalps. And you wondered if the Wild West still exists? I tell you here in Denver it really does. We have lots of things that prickle, sting and bite.

General Custer--he bought his lunch at the Battle of Little Bighorn

El Serrano

The English Sparrow or house sparrow, the bane of the birding world (and known by birders as a feathered rat sharing that honor with the Rock Dove or common pigeon) is alive and well here in Santa Rosalia, specifically at Casa Boleo. We have a big tube feeder and it is covered with sparrows whenever it is filled with seed. This summer when we first put it up and I saw we were only feeding sparrows, I told Esperando we wouldn’t refill it when it was empty. But then the muchachas asked if we would please fill it up again because they liked seeing all the little birds. How could I refuse them when they work so hard? Since the only feed available down here to fill it with is scratch (hen feed), a lot of ‘uneatable’ seed and cracked corn gets cast on the ground. That attracts the pigeons that race around below it to chow down the cracked corn. Now isn’t that just every birder’s dream?




Today’s sparrows are descendents of birds imported from Europe to the U.S. before the turn of the last century. They have populated the Americas as they have most of the rest of the world. According to http://www.50birds.com/ they were imported to protect trees from a caterpillar which is the larva of the Geometrid Moth. Many disagreed with the wisdom of this move and even predicted they would become pests as they fed on seeds and buds, not insects. One hundred Sparrows were released in New York City in 1852 and 1853. In 1854 more birds were imported and released in Portland, Maine and Quebec. In the next ten years, a few hundred more were imported and released in Quebec and around Portland, Boston and New York. In 1869, about one thousand were released in Philadelphia. They were released in San Francisco, Cleveland, Cincinnati, St. Louis and several other cities in the interior. Between 1874 and 1876 a few were released in Michigan and in 1881, in Iowa. This bird is destructive to crops, spreads disease and parasites, competes with songbirds, and its filthy habits and population explosion have revealed its introduction to be a huge mistake. About the only positive thing that can be said for them is that they are monogamous.

My Mother hates Sparrows with a passion as they drive all the other pretty birds away. When we lived in Denver we switched our feed over to pure sunflower seeds which didn’t attract the sparrows, just house finches and a little hawk that liked to eat them who would sit on the fence waiting in the snow for any little birds to show up. That’s a multi-use feeder feeding both little birds and hawks.

As I looked out the kitchen window the other day at Casa Boleo and at the feeder covered with a multitude of sparrows and their children, cousins, aunts and uncles awaiting their turn in the bushes and on a wire that runs from pillar to post, I asked New Cook, what do they call that bird here? Oh, she said it is called a serrano. Ah like the chile, I said. Oh yes, she said, like the chile, but really it means coming from the mountains, they come down from the mountains. I just about choked on my cup of coffee—such a romantic concept for a messy piggy little bird that is generally found near human habitations. Ah the joys of being ignorant of the big wide world. In Santa Rosalia surrounded as it is by desert even a little sparrow is welcomed. When you don’t have a lot of birds to look at, except for buzzards, a little sparrow that reminds you of the coolness of the mountains is just the thing.

Taking a little bird bath in the dirt.

Curses, foiled again

While I was in California I decided that we needed to plant a Sago palm in the yard at Casa Abeja. I have always admired them for their prehistoric quality in my brother Juan-in-a-Million’s yard. I looked them up on the internet and they grow on in mainland Mexico in the same climatic zone we are in here right opposite us on the Sea of Cortez. When my brother told me his daughter had a cute little tiny one in a group of potted plants, I figured I could fit that in my suitcase and sneak it into Mexico. So the two of us got in his car and zoomed around to every nursery near his house trying to find one. We probably spent about 3 hours looking. Orchard Supply Hardware had them in 1 gallon pots, and including the leaves they were about 2 feet tall and way too big for my bag. Each successive nursery had bigger and bigger trees until we were up to 20 gallons. The price went up exponentially too. That’s when I decided that I didn’t really need one after all. And then I remembered how the agricultural guy at the airport took Esperando’s corn husk nativity away from him last year because it was ‘organic’ matter, even though it came from Mexico so I pretty much really lost my enthusiasm.

When we were in Loreto a few days ago, we stopped at the nursery to see what they were selling. They seemed to have a lot more plants than they have had in the past and right before my very eyes were at least twenty 15-gallon Sago palms, all smiling up at me waving their fronds in an inviting way. I was so happy. We found several other great plants that we wanted to buy as well, but it was pretty hot so we decided we would drive by in the morning so the plants wouldn’t be cooking in the covered tail of the pickup. Alas we were foiled by mother nature as Tropical Disturbance Olaf trotted into town and inundated everything and flooded the streets. That nursery guy that had promised he would be open at 8 am wasn’t even open at 9 am when we trundled by. Got to hand it to these Mexicans for always being closed when they say they will be open, even in the middle of a tropical storm. I guess if I came from someplace where it never rained, I might be nervous when it starts to rain heavily, but I still think he should have been more excited about the big sale he was going to make to us.

In any event we still don’t have a Sago palm and just now Esperando read to me that they are seriously poisonous. To quote Wikipedia, “One disadvantage of its domestic use is that it is poisonous to animals and humans. One skin breaking scrape can lead to a hospital visit. Cycad Sago Palm is extremely poisonous to both humans and animals if ingested. Pets are at particular risk since they seem to find the plant very palatable.” So maybe there won’t be any Sago palm in my future after all since the dog is big fan of eating leaves.

Home again, home again, jiggity, jig, jig

Here we are again in the Land of Mañana, we spent the night before last near the SF airport so we wouldn’t have to get up so early. Esperando thought our flight left at 11 am, in fact it left at 7:30 am, so getting up early ended up being really early. We’ve only been gone from Baja two weeks but it seems like forever. While we were gone we heard that the water system had already been repaired in Santa Rosalia after Hurricane Jimena tore out miles of pipeline, but now that we are here it is not yet so. They are using still using water trucks to provide water for the populace. On our drive up from Loreto we saw that the road repairs have held up, and they are starting to asphalt the highway where the repairs were just dirt packed before. The desert is turning really green and lots of things are blooming. The damage to homes near the highway in Mulege looks more extensive now than it did several weeks ago because people are pulling down damaged roofs to start repairing them.

We stopped off at the Hotel Serenidad to talk with Jack McCormick of Baja Bush Pilots who has been organizing an airlift of relief aid for Mulege and Santa Rosalia. One of the airplanes that flew in for the airlift was damaged landing on the runway, fortunately the pilot and passengers were not hurt. The nose was badly damaged and the propeller got badly twisted. Esperando and I mused on how the repair could be done down here so far from proper aircraft parts and mechanics and finally decided that they will probably have disassemble it and truck it back to San Diego.

I always hate unpacking a suitcase more than packing one, maybe that feeling is coupled with the realization that the trip is over, or maybe its all the clothes that need washing and putting away, or maybe its how worn out you feel after traveling—I am exhausted! It is nice to be home and have cats intertwined in my legs all night so I can’t move around in my sleep. No wonder my back is always contorted after several nights in my own bed, however they do make me feel wanted.

While I was at my brother Juan-in-a-Million’s house in Northern California I enjoyed photographing the grapes ripening in his vineyard, getting ready to become upstanding young bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon. They look so beautiful in the sunlight. We also watched a covey of half-grown quail gambling about in his front yard, trying to decide whether to take the plunge and race up the street or continue to hide in the bushes. That’s when everyone pointed out that not having cats is a good thing, no way would all those baby quail have survived cats that cannot control their urge to hunt. Crazy people! These same cats are great to have around to discourage roof rats, gophers and nesting flickers that like to eat your roof. As with most all things, there is a good side and a bad side to having cats.

Todos Santos and La Paz

After 3 hot days in Cabo Pulmo we were ready to move on to Todos Santos where we had booked a room at Casa Bentley, a meandering stout-walled stone building set in a ‘tropical jungle’ that the owner, Bob Bentley, has carved out of old mango and avocado orchard. Bob has lived in Todos Santos since 1984, is a geologist by trade and became our instant friend and guide. He sent us to all the great restaurants in town and had lots of entertaining tales to tell. We had a delightful large cool room with private terrace, but we spent most of the hot afternoons lounging around his beautiful shaded gem of a swimming pool with his five dogs, all answering to the name of Heidi. His charming hotel manager, Beatrice, keeps everything humming along.

Todos Santos is all about the people, art galleries, places to eat and shops. We met a lot of really nice people; we were even invited to a cocktail party at a private home which was fantastic because we got to see the hostess’ lovely home and meet even more really cool Todos Santos residents. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a friendlier place, or had a more convivial time in just 3 short days.

Our first day, of course, had to check out the notorious Hotel California of Eagles fame, even though the Eagles never were really in Todos Santos. We had great margaritas there in the bar that evening, then wandered into the hotel lobby which looked like a gallery, and started talking to hotel manager Debbie Stewart whose husband (now deceased) was instrumental in putting Hotel California on the map—he created a really great hotel. According to Bob Bentley, local legend has it that on the night he died a major hurricane was about to make landfall there, and his spirit went out to sea and turned the hurricane away from Todos Santos.

Todos Santos has an old historic center but homes are scattered and sprawled up and down over hills, some homes have views of the ocean, some have none, most have really great gardens. Lots of funky, artistic and unique houses represent the efforts of the expatriate community. It kind of reminded us of a smaller Taos, New Mexico, on the Pacific Ocean, except it was hot and humid in a way Taos would never be. While we were there we encountered lots of Italian tourists, as well as several wonderful Italian restaurants: Tre Galline, a more upscale trendy and delicious place; and il Giardino Pizzeria Trattoria, an alfresco wood-fired pizza parlor also serving up pasta dishes. We had lunch at D’Alicias, a self-described Baja New Mexico restaurant featuring familiar-to-us New Mexico style enchiladas, something you will probably not encounter anywhere else in Baja California. This year many of the art galleries and restaurants have already shut down for the season due to the slow rate of tourism, so even in 3 days we still didn’t get to see it all. Before we got there several people told us that 4 hours of Todos Santos was sufficient to see and know the whole thing—obviously they REALLY missed the whole thing.

We bid a sad farewell to all our new found friends and drove to La Paz to see if our red enamel and stainless steel GE stove had been repaired and could come along with us to Santa Rosalia. Alas, it was still being worked on and they will call us when it is ready. I will not hold my breath.

You, of course, are a rose— But were always a rose.

My roses here in Denver are all starting to open up at the moment, even the shy ones. They have so far escaped two week’s worth of severe weather including tornados and golf-ball size hail that have just skirted us. The weather has been so damp and cold that my roses have been coming out plant by plant instead of all at once as they usually do.

My interest in roses leans toward the antique and fragrant, I have a lot of polyanthas. In the backyard in a raised bed we have Leda or Painted Damask, a pale damask rose edged in magenta that just blooms in spring; Therese Bugnet a beautiful clove-scented pink rose bush that blooms profusely all summer on prickleless stems, Reine de Violette a very violet-fragrant magenta rose, and Alfred de Dalmas a deep pink repeat-blooming moss rose, even the leaves and stems are fragrant on this plant. Scattered around elsewhere in the back is Dainty Bess; a rambler Albertine by the backgate; pale pink tall climber New Dawn on the back fence paired with the clematis Etoile Violette; and Basye’s Blueberry which is really taking off this year after two years of subdued growth.

In the front of the house on a sideyard I have the white English rose Glamis Castle just opening now, it was badly tramatized by freeze this winter; Marbree a rose-colored marbled Portland rose (marbling almost looks as though raindrops had fallen and stained it where they touched the petals); a mystery rose that I believe may be the Gallica named Tricolore (I sent for Tricolore de Flandres a striped rose, but when it flowered it was not that); lavender Florence de Lattre; the Chestnut Rose; Altissimo, a vibrant red rose; and a potted tree rose Ballerina. Some newcomers from last year are the Red Meidiland rose and a Burgundy Iceberg.

All my roses are own-root stock, which means if they die back badly, the same plant comes out from the roots, not something else. For a long time I have been ordering roses from http://www.vintagegardens.com/ and http://www.heirloomroses.com/ with now and then an excursion to http://www.waysidegardens.com/ with great success. However this is more difficult when I am not here for extended periods as it is hard to predict when ordered roses will arrive sometimes. Since one of the landscape roses Improved Blaze, the only one with grafted roots, died off this winter I am waiting for the arrival of Sweet Afton, my first tea rose, to put in its place. The really difficult part is that I have run out of space to put in yet more roses. There are so many wonderful roses to choose at in 100 Old Roses for the American Garden by Clair Martin which I refer to like a bible, that I go through flagging pages and then in a couple of weeks re-flag them. Someday I would like to have a really big garden that would accommodate 50 rose bushes. That would be a lot of work, maybe I should be content with the ones I already have.

What wound did ever heal but by degrees

As William Shakespeare wrote: "How poor are they who have not patience. What wound did ever heal but by degrees." Other than watching my roses hatch very slowly, not much is going on here.

I wasn’t going to dwell on my recovery from shoulder surgery anymore, but it seems to be the my only focus right now. Today was my second physical therapy session. The first time I went, I met Rick my physical therapist and Ashley the receptionist who just moved to Denver two weeks ago.

Rick is a decent 35-ish freckly guy, pleasant but pretty much business-like with a steady hand and good at explaining how to do my exercises. I spent about 10 minutes painfully raising my arm up and down in a pulley with my other arm while he went off to print out some more exercises for me. He asked me what my goals were, which are to be outta here by July 3 to drive back down to Baja. Ashley and her husband moved here just out of college from Washington State. Because we have been having so much rain lately, such unusually cloudy and drizzly days, so unlike Colorado weather this early in the year, I had to explain to her that it was all very weird and she shouldn’t base her impression of Denver on the last two week’s weather. Its true to say these people are the dominant influence on my life at the moment.

Rick give me a bunch of exercises that I can do at home without needing someone like Esperando around to lift my arm up for me. By the time I left my head was swimming and I hoped I could remember how to do everything right. I went home and had two days to practice everything on my own. Mostly I have to do five different exercises twice a day 20 times each and hold each position for the count of 10. That may sound pretty simple but when one arm is busy doing exercises, it only leaves one hand free for counting to 20 in five finger increments, while verbally counting to 10 to hold the position. It was a whole new challenge; maybe I don’t have Alzheimer’s yet after all.

Today I went light doing the morning set of exercises figuring I would get new ones added today and practice at physical therapy. Instead I got a back and shoulder massage. It started out swell, all those sore muscles in my back got rubbed tenderly, but after the nice part Rick started poking everything that was stiff and stretching it out until I said ouch, then he would hold it there and push a little more after a few seconds. In a way even though it was painful it was good knowing my muscles were starting being pushed to go back to where they need to go. It is so discouraging to see what tiny steps I have taken so far and sort of staggering to think how far I have to go yet.

While Rick was torturing me I asked him if he liked BBQ, that if he did he should check out The Ribhouse at Prospect. Well yes Rick said, he was from Texas so every time he went back home the first thing he did was go out for BBQ. Rick told me my muscles were really tight because they were still trying to protect my shoulder from movement. Then he spun a little Texas philosophy on me. He said these muscles are like a bunch of big brothers protecting a little brother in a bar, everyone starts fighting and getting out of control and really they aren’t helping the situation because they don’t know what they are doing just striking out at everything, just like my muscles don’t know what they are doing to still try to protect my shoulder from moving. As a concept it really stuck in my mind—but there is so little else to occupy my mind right now. After about 40 minutes of getting poked, stretched, prodded and twisted, Rick brought in an icepack and iced my shoulder for the next 15 minutes so by the time I left I was freezing as well as sore. But the really worst (and best) part of the physical therapy is the fact that I have to drive by Sonic Drive-In on my way home and console myself with a chile cheeseburger every time. So much for the weight I lost in my first two weeks recovering from surgery! I’m already full of hot air, I’ve got to be vigilant that I don’t start to balloon.

"Eye of newt, and toe of frog. . .”

Two years ago we had serious drainage problems with the northeast window wells of our Denver house’s basement. This time of year in Denver we can get torrential rains. As much as 2 inches can fall in an hour on an exceptional day. Well two years ago we had that kind of weather. I sent Esperando off to his job in the morning. It had been pouring for about 30 minutes when I decided to go to the unfinished basement in my innocence still attired in my nightgown to see if we were having any flooding down there. Lo and behold, the floor had about an inch of water on it in the northeast section and more was gushing in through the window well as the water was 4 inches higher than the window ledge. I immediately ran over to grab the shop vac and starting suctioning water off the floor, then I would drag the shop vac over to the northwest corner where there was a sump pump and empty the water into that hole, race back to the window and start vacuuming again. Did I mention that standing for 10 minutes vacuuming in the same spot is mesmerizing and surprisingly I wasn’t really quite awake even yet? Finally I realized there was aThing swimming in the 4 inches of water. I thought I was going crazy. I looked closer and the thing was like a fish, but it had very fancy gills on it that looked like leaves. I decided that it was some kind of salamander. After about 30 minutes of my suction-and-dump routine the vacuum seized up, it was working too hard and couldn’t keep up with the influx of water. I called Esperando at work and told him to come rescue the basement which he did. Then before we moved down to Mexico, Esperando dug up and redid the water drainage systems surrounding the house to make sure we would not have that kind of problem ever again.

It is worth mentioning that Esperando and I are actually among those strange kinds of people who like reptiles. That is why last year after heavy rains when I went down to check the window wells for flooding and found toads and salamanders instead basking on the damp gravel I didn’t scream but picked a toad up to take upstairs and show to Esperando. Pretty soon we were carrying out toad rescue operations. As many as 4 or 5 toads would be in each window well, with no way to ever climb out of their dungeon. Initially we thought as little tykes they might have fallen through the grating and were just eating whatever fell down there in the in the way of bugs and spiders. We eventually pulled 22 of them out. Now this third year we have decided that someone is laying eggs down there, because although there were fewer toads, they were still there.We leave the salamanders in the window wells, it is moist and they burrow into the soil, but the toads were seriously overcrowded and we think they are happier in the garden where there is more variety to eat.

Yesterday after our first really big rain I went down and found six Great Plains toads, about 1-1/2 to 2 inches long, four Tiger salamanders about 8 inches long and one very small Garter snake of about 10 inches long. We have never had a snake before. I was sure it would crawl into a crack and be very hard to catch, but Esperando with his boyhood training in snake hunting had him in a second, so he joined the toads in the release program. Later I regretted that we hadn’t kept the snake for a few days to admire him, he was so cute.

Gardening is a matter of your enthusiasm holding up until your back gets used to it. ~Author Unknown

Gardening doesn’t come easy for me in Santa Rosalia. I wallowed with indecision throughout our first year’s planting season, and thus missed the opportunity to plant the millions of flower and vegetable seeds I brought with me as I didn’t realize that November and December, the coldest months, are the time to start planting. And I could never settle on where to plant anything at Casa Boleo. So much of the usable beds are in the shade of mango and citrus trees. But in that I could never get organized with the watering of things, I fear my planting efforts would have been an abject failure.


First of all we only have water for a certain part of the day, but I have not been able to figure out when that is even after 8 months of living here. Secondly, the guesthouse has four rotating shift guards; our guards do all the watering, but selectively, which seems to mean the big trees and flower beds get lots of water, but my potted plants don’t get much attention. Even though I water them by hand I can never get to a functioning hose to spray the foliage off. When I go away I know they are somewhat neglected. This includes the two English roses I brought here which were doing great until we left for a month, but looked rather sorry when I returned. They became infested with everything known to man, and pesticides are not available here. The one miniature rose I purchased here must be better aligned to the climate as it only got aphids which I could handle using soapy water in a spray bottle. I’m sure when I get back this time after a month’s absence they will all be dead.

Then I tried to put in a small lawn with some Seashore Paspalum grass seed I purchased on-line ($50 for a pound-ouch!) suitable for our hot salt water climate. The gardener cleared the area I wanted planted and scattered the seed (quite unevenly). The grass was beautiful where it was in patches. Unfortunately a great number of nasty weeds and alfalfa that had laid in wait probably for years for water came up mixed in with the grass and overwhelmed it. It was such a mess the gardener finally cleared the whole lot out again. I am going to put crushed shell there now.

Then we finally found an olive tree to plant at Casa Abeja as Esperando has hopes of pickling olives, or whatever it is that you do to them. The Lads planted it and when I went back to look at it a week later it was almost dead because no one watered it. I don’t know if it will recover. My brother Juan-in-a-Million kindly took me around his yard in the Bay Area so we could dig up some baby olive trees to take back with us. I have just sent for some Jacaranda Tree seeds in hopes of planting one; we have never seen them in Santa Rosalia, but have seen a few in Mulegé which is more humid. I’ll see if they can grow there, I have some concerns about the wind in winter. We do have flame trees in Santa Rosalia and I would hope the climate requirements would be similar.

Right now at the guesthouse, we have an abundance of hibiscus—orange, red, white double and single blossoms (which attract the hummingbirds and orioles); the bougainvilla are starting in; Tree of India (ficus—here it is a grand stately tree reaching 40 feet); fruit-bearing fig trees; mangoes that are now about the size of a golf ball; Easter lilies (although ours have no fragrance); and the Noche Buena (poinsettia) which I had planted in the side yard after Christmas.

One day driving through the desert to the beach, it occurred to me that I would like to plant some of attractive desert plants of which there is a multiplicity. Although most of them have thorns, not all of them do and it would go a long way to solving the watering issues. Now and then, I would ask Esperando to stop so I could pick berries and seed pods off of appealing plants. When we got back to the house and I had to opportunity to consult our Baja California Plant Field Guide, I discovered that the bush with the pretty purple flowers and yellow berries was Deadly Nightshade, and the other with a deeper purple flower, simply known as Pega Pega (Glue Glue), had leaves that stuck to one’s clothing. And that has somewhat quelled my initial enthusiasm for natural planting. Nothing gentle grows on its own in this harsh environment. It seems that the thornless ones are just as contrary as the thorny ones.

Feeling connected

Boy, oh boy, here come the guests— a full house of Korean investors! I have an extra helper for this week to assist the cook and the housekeeper. They have been polishing up the house within an inch of it life. I could never manage to do all this by myself without being utterly exhausted, but its hard managing all the details. I have been making list after list of things to do, who’s doing what as well as when and what has to be done. I have a carpenter here putting frosted windows in the bathrooms and replacing doorknobs for those lacking a key, the plumber here because the tub in one guestroom has extremely hot water and we have to fix it before our guests arrive, the air conditioner has failed again in the living room. The water is off one minute and on the next. Who knows what will happen next? This will be an extra busy week. Starting Sunday, the Koreans are here two days--Monday night we are having a big Korean bbq with the kim chee we brought.

I have actually been pretty amazed at the variety offered in the stores in what initially appeared to have been a very small town with very little to offer. I just ordered an emergency patio set from a local store which is being delivered today. We have been working to get uniforms for the household help. These have to be ordered in San Diego and brought down, they will take about a week to arrive. Then we get them embroidered locally with the Boleo logo.

Some chairs and a coffee table ordered from La Paz are still missing from the living room, but the coffee table for our sitting room is being loaned out there until the real one arrives. Full length wall mirrors are coming from Tijuana. I need a lot more small dishes, like for appetizers or dessert, small bowls, a sugar and creamer, but those I have to get in Loreto. We have an abundance of hibiscus flowers—double red, double white, single pink, single orange, and single yellow with orange edging— for guest rooms and the dining table; the cook can squeeze oranges to make fresh orange juice (its excellent!); Every night I wake up at 1 a.m. and think about everything until I can finally get back to sleep at 4 am. Actually I am not thinking, I just lie there in a stupefied but non slumberous daze. Last night was finally able to I sleep through the night only to be awakened by the His Majesty the Cat at 4 am for his royal breakfast.

Well I didn’t get this posted two days ago, so much has happened, but tonite I finally got an internet connection in my house. I am so excited I’ll probably surf all nite. I actually have cancelled the Koreans visit here. We are having water issues and the last thing I need is not for them to be able to bathe or flush the toilet. We will probably still go ahead with the bbq. I need to start marinating the meat tomorrow morning. Esperando will be back early Sunday morning. I can handle just about anything if he is here—and I have the internet too!

The language of flowers

One of the things about publishing a blog is that Esperando daily asks me if I have updated it yet. I keep explaining to him that it isn't a daily thing, it is just a whenever I feel like it thing. Although some people NEVER update their blogs (you might know who I'm talking about, R.)--still you have to be in the mood for it.

Today I had a goat cheese, roasted eggplant and red pepper sandwich, which the dog elected to share with me, out in the backyard. Then I got inspired to put on my swimming suit to catch a little sun. Since I wouldn't play ball with the dog, he decided it was too hot outside and I had to get up and let him back into the air conditioned house. And then the cat decided if the dog wanted back in, he did too, so I got up again. By then it was getting hot, so I came in and started looking at 100 Old Roses for the American Garden, by Clair G. Martin. One thing lead to another and I ended up taking more pictures of the roses and other flowers in my yard. It struck me that is a good thing, I will be able to remember my summer garden once I move to Baja whenever I look at my flower pictures.

While my mother and sister were here we tried to figure out what kind of roses might grow where I will be, and the choices are few--the climate zone appears to the same as southern Florida, though quite frankly I would suspect its a little drier. Maybe we will be carting a rose or two down with us in the car!!

I am pretty sure I will be able to grow zinnias. They like really hot sun. What a pleasing flower. I have purchased a bunch of seeds to take along with me. And our new house, Casa Abeja, has a flame tree in the backyard (though it is still small). Esperando and I walked through a nursery in Loreto, and they did have a fairly decent amount of plants, unfortunately they were limited to about 15 different plants: bougainvillea, hibiscus, lemon and orange trees, a peach tree--well that's about all that comes to mind, but there were a few others.