I’m referring to Pride of Madeira, the superstar of my garden!
This plant REALLY loves the environment here at Casa de Enchanted Seashells. I read that it’s becoming invasive in places along the coast and I can see how that could happen as it easily reseeds itself.
Native to Madeira Island, north of the Canary Islands, it’s a tough perennial and can survive all summer with little to no water. Since I think we’ve seen the last of our record-breaking rainfall here in SoCal, that’s exactly what they’ll have to do to survive.
And in a different part of the garden, a slightly different hue…It’s HUGE.
Bees love it too. So do hummingbirds and butterflies.
Pride of Madeira grows to about six feet tall and some of my specimens are twice as wide as they are tall.
I quite literally have dozens of baby Prides if anyone wants to plant them in their garden!
(I know that one is not really supposed to end a sentence with “in”, but the proper way sounded stilted and phony, so I made a decision based on this information: “never ending a sentence with a preposition is a myth. It’s something wrongly attributed to English that is actually a real rule in Latin.”)
So…on a walk a couple years ago, I found this chair with its turquoise-painted partner tossed out on the street. They looked lonely and sad, so I went home to get my car and rescued them both.
I placed the chairs on the side of the house with every intention of brightening them up with a new coat of paint but their weary and worn character grew on me. I’ve left them to naturally weather every storm just as they are — honest and true — with nothing to camouflage their straightforward authenticity.
I like them just the way they are.
Funny enough, I get a lot of compliments from neighbors who walk by and comment about how they love the artful way the flowers seem to embrace this simple old chair.
The Chair That No One Sits In
You see them on porches and on lawns down by the lakeside, usually arranged in pairs implying a couple
who might sit there and look out| at the water or the big shade trees. The trouble is you never see anyone
sitting in these forlorn chairs though at one time it must have seemed a good place to stop and do nothing for a while.
Sometimes there is a little table between the chairs where no one is resting a glass or placing a book facedown.
It might be none of my business, but it might be a good idea one day for everyone who placed those vacant chairs
on a veranda or a dock to sit down in them for the sake of remembering whatever it was they thought deserved
to be viewed from two chairs side by side with a table in between. The clouds are high and massive that day.
The woman looks up from her book. The man takes a sip of his drink. Then there is nothing but the sound of their looking,
the lapping of lake water, and a call of one bird then another, cries of joy or warning— it passes the time to wonder which.
William James Collins, Poet Laureate of the United States from 2001 to 2003.
Scrolling through the vast wasteland of the internet, I discovered this picture and it immediately brought tears to my eyes.
I could actually feel myself as the girl caressing this magnificent humpback whale.
The essential and enduring connection and communion with other creatures is a combination of compassion and empathy and kindness.
I did a little research and learned about the work of Rachel Byler, artist and creator of The Colorful Cat Studio.
🐋It’s on my May Birthday Wish List as I could gaze at this painting forever and ever. It brings a simple yet complex joy.🐋
One of my favorite poets, Pulitzer Prize winner Mary Oliver wrote about humpback whales:
HUMPBACKS
There is, all around us, this country of original fire
You know what I mean.
The sky, after all, stops at nothing, so something has to be holding our bodies in its rich and timeless stables or else we would fly away.
Off Stellwagon off the Cape, the humpbacks rise. Carrying their tonnage of barnacles and joy they leap through the water, they nuzzle back under it like children at play.
They sing, too. And not for any reason you can’t imagine.
Three of them rise to the surface near the bow of the boat, then dive deeply, their huge scarred flukes tipped to the air.
We wait, not knowing just where it will happen; suddenly they smash through the surface, someone begins shouting for joy and you realize it is yourself as they surge upward and you see for the first time how huge they are, as they breach, and dive, and breach again through the shining blue flowers of the split water and you see them for some unbelievable part of a moment against the sky- like nothing you’ve ever imagined- like the myth of the fifth morning galloping our of darkness, pouring heavenward, spinning; then
they crash back under those black silks and we all fall back together into that wet fire, you know what I mean
I know a captain who has seen them playing with seaweed, tossing the slippery lengths of it into the air.
I know a whale that will come to the boat whenever she can, and nudge it gently along the bow with her long flipper.
I know several lives worth living.
listen, whatever it is you try to do with your life, nothing will ever dazzle you like the dreams of your body,
its spirit longing to fly while the dead-weight bones
toss their dark mane and hurry back into the fields of glittering fire
where everything, even the great whale, throbs with song.
This full moon is all about healing, harmony, and balance. Stay grounded and peaceful as we embrace the beautiful energy of this pink moon.
“Always remember we are under the same sky, looking at the same moon.” – Maxine Lee
For some reason, none of the pictures I took of the moon came out great, so I snapped a pic of some of my favorite crystals on a pink heart dish.
I love this poem about the moon, written by Lady Montagu (1689-1762), a truly remarkable woman. In addition to her poetry and writing, she is also celebrated for introducing the smallpox inoculation to Britain, half a century before Edward Jenner developed a vaccine against the disease.
Hymn to the Moon
Thou silver deity of secret night, Direct my footsteps through the woodland shade; Thou conscious witness of unknown delight, The Lover’s guardian, and the Muse’s aid! By thy pale beams I solitary rove, To thee my tender grief confide; Serenely sweet you gild the silent grove, My friend, my goddess, and my guide …
Maitri: loving kindness and compassion for oneself, to reveal a profound essence that leads to personal growth, the ultimate self care.
Maitriis one of the four virtues of Buddhism, collectively known as Brahmaviharas or ‘the immeasurables’.
The term maitri can be translated from Sanskrit as loving-kindness or benevolence, The concept is central to the Buddhist practice of loving-kindness meditation and is also referenced in ancient Hindu and Jain scriptures.
Maitri was one of the themes of Buddhist teacher and author, Pema Chodron. In her book How to Meditate: A Practical Guide to Making Friends with Your Mind, she describes maitri as “unconditional friendliness,” not only towards others but towards oneself.
For maitri toward oneself, try this affirmation: “May I be happy, healthy, safe, and live with ease.”
Positive affirmations + the practice of infinite gratitude are two concepts I incorporate into my daily life.
After all the rain we’ve had here in Southern California, every bit of land is awash in springtime color.
A picturesque view of the lagoon, train tracks, and Pacific ocean through Purple Mustard, an invasive weed:
I call this plant Beach Daisy, definitely a weed, if not also invasive…
And finally, I’m impossibly happy because the wildflower seeds I planted last year in my native garden decided to sprout and present me with lovely spires of lupine:
**All photo credit belongs to Enchanted Seashells.
Yesterday at 6:16 p.m. I was on the sofa eating a bowl of yummy rice and veg when I felt the entire house shake with an incredibly SHARP jolt like the house was trying to fall off the foundation accompanied by a deafening loud noise.
Did the Wicked Witch of the East crash into my house?
For half a second, I looked around thinking something had fallen outside on the deck. The windchimes were all going crazy and with no discernible wind. I was a bit confused for a minute, then a lightbulb went off in my brain and I hurriedly checked the earthquake app on my phone and sure enough, we had just had a 4.5 earthquake, subsequently downgraded to a 4.2.
There was no damage at Casa de Enchanted Seashells other than a few pictures that weren’t secured with earthquake gel became a little askew, but nothing broke, I’m glad to report.
Again this morning a little after 5 a.m., I sort of half woke up with the same sort of sharp jolting sensation but went right back to sleep without checking the earthquake app.
I slept until almost 7 a.m, and when I got up, I remembered that feeling and wanted to establish whether there WAS another earthquake or if was it just a dream, and I discovered there was a definite 3.2 earthquake at 5:10 a.m. in the same location.
It was real, not a dream!
Maybe it was a joke on all of us from Mother Nature, right? Did anyone else feel it?
How could this day be halfway over and I forgot to observe National Mermaid Day?
Mermaid Day is observed every year on March 29. It’s for lovers of the fabled creature who appear in literature, mythology, music, films, and pop culture.
Gazing at me while I write…
Maybe mermaids ARE real; at least that’s what I want to believe as I see the world through my rose-colored glasses.
Mermaids Believe in magic. Play in the waves. Know how to weather a storm. See life’s beauty. Dive for their soul. Ride the tides of life. Know there are treasures in the deep. -Unknown
My crow cousins have been leaving gifts for me all around the garden and deck.
Shiny and sparkly!
So far I’ve discovered these four baubles. I always look up to see if I can catch the gift giver; so far I haven’t, but I say thank you out loud as I pocket my treasures.
Crows are known to give small gifts to people who pay attention to them or feed them. The phenomenon is actually called “gifting”. I don’t feed my local crow family as there is plenty to eat without my intervention, but I do talk to them and generally love their presence, so maybe they feel that emotion and return the affection. I’ve read that crows (and other corvids) remember the faces of those who are mean to them and those who are especially kind.
Some of my neighbors don’t appreciate our community of crows as much as I do, and I’m positive they aren’t receiving the same kinds of gifts like I am.
I’m full of gratitude to my bird family Thank you, cousins!
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 