Isn’t this perfect?
Of course I embellished it with shells. It’s on metal, that’s why there’s a bit of a glare.
The Enchanted Mermaid Inn
23
Category Archives: My Enchanted Life
Yellowstone Treasures
My road trip to Yellowstone was life changing.
I often dreamed of seeing the wolves of Lamar Valley and one day my dream came true.
I’ve never written about my magical journey to Yellowstone because it’s more than a few posts; it’s book-worthy.
I kept a journal of those enchanted 3000 miles — I was lucky enough to see wolves and foxes and bears and moose and all the animals I love so much and want to help protect and defend against senseless killing.
I will never forget the first moment I spotted a wolf.
I can honestly say that it was a seminal event in my life.
It was so special words cannot do it justice –to glimpse a brief moment in the life of this majestic, breathtakingly beautiful and wrongly vilified animal.
If I close my eyes, I can still see the beauty of another wolf, a black wolf, nonchalantly chewing on the end of a huge log—an AMAZING sight.
It was an overwhelming experience of transcendent joy.
I can’t wait to return to Yellowstone and I will hopefully fulfill another one of my life’s dreams, to hear the song of the wolf.
Unfortunately, the camera I had at that time didn’t have a powerful enough lens to capture a photo of the wolves we saw, but we came away with a couple of other treasures, an osprey feather and a backbone, possibly of a bison, washed up from Slough Creek to the campsite.
Wonderful memories of a dream come true.
Osprey feather
Bison vertebrae (at least I think it’s bison)
UPDATE: Just found this on Facebook, just HAD to edit post to share:
I Met Vice President Al Gore at the Apple Store
Hey, that rhymes, doesn’t it? …Al Gore at the Apple Store
Of all the days to run out of the house dressed in ratty Lululemons — constructed from the WORST fabric in the entire world. They’re a powerful magnet for all the lint and dust in Southern California and seem to attract more grime than my vacuum.
I stopped wearing them as workout garments ‘cos they’re not very comfortable and they have a nasty X-rated propensity to outline my reproductive parts for everyone at the gym. NOT a flattering look. At least they weren’t the see-though kind. Click here to read my post about THAT.
Now that you know more TMI that you probably needed to — picture me in those Lululemons and an oversized “I Hiked Angel’s Landing at Zion National Park” t-shirt with a black hoodie wrapped around my waist. Oh, and my hair was tied up in a scrunchie — yes, you heard me. A SCRUNCHIE. Shhh. Don’t. Don’t say anything. I’ve heard it all before, “Ring, ring…1983 is calling.” Heard it a zillion times. In my defense, I have longish, very curly hair and a scrunchie is the best method to tie up my hair, OK?
I had 
a 1:00 p.m. appointment at the Genius Bar of my local Apple Store in La Costa at the Forum because my MacAir was on life support with the dreaded black screen of death — basically flatlining — and it needed a major resuscitation. And in case you’re wondering (and marveling) at my handiwork, I most certainly lovingly applied each and every sparkle to the darling apple with my own little fingers.
Keep reading; this story really is going somewhere, albeit in a meandering kind of way. Stick with me, OK?
Did I mention that I didn’t have on any makeup? I was in a rush to get there because how can you live without a computer — a rhetorical question, ‘cos of course it’s impossible.
I checked in with one of the many blue-shirted Apple employees and was directed to take a seat at the Genius Bar to await my personal technician. There were several available stools and I chose the second one from the end. THIS WILL BE VERY IMPORTANT SOON.
Note how close together the stools are.
I settled in and took my Mac out of its totes adorbs Hello Kitty case (I hear you snickering and I don’t care. I’m proudly 13 going on 60).
My tech, Clinton, came out for a moment to discuss my issues — well, not MY issues exactly, I mean, my MacAir haha — and whisked my laptop off to the mysterious Back Room with the invisible silver doors.
Leaning against the sharp-edged corner of the Genius Bar with the ubiquitous badge around her neck defining her status as “Manager”, I overheard her whisper to another employee, “I’m saving this seat”.
She placed her iPad down on the round stool to emphasize her statement.
“Saving it for whom?” I thought to myself. Is this like junior high where we saved seats for our BFFs? Was that the best seat? Should I have demanded to sit there? Is there anyone more important than Princess Rosebud? All these questions were swirling around in my brain.
A couple of other employees gathered around the manager and exuded nervous anticipation. “He’ll be here soon”.
My radar began to pick up on the buzz. Hmm. Who were they saving a seat for? A celebrity? An Apple bigwig? A VERY IMPORTANT PERSON?
I sniffed the air. I smelled a story. One of my former incarnations was as an investigative reporter wannabe and my curiosity was aroused.
Something was going on.
A man and a woman were ceremoniously escorted to THE SAVED SEAT.
The man sat down next to me.
His stool was so close to my stool that I could feel body heat emanating from his softly worn jeans-clad thigh.
The woman stood next to him at the end of the Genius Bar. They were both casually dressed, nothing too remarkable about jewelry — no huge diamonds or Rolex watches — just a couple of regular people.
They both shook hands with the manager. She thanked them for coming into the store. WTF was THAT all about? This was certainly different than my experience. Not that I wasn’t treated courteously, but this was a bit overly polite and way more attentive.
Now there were three employees plus the hovering manager. The woman took her iPhone out of her handbag and handed it to the manager. I noted (with my laser focused investigative powers) that her phone was encased in a J.Crew leopard print cell phone cover. Nice, but not Chanel or anything. I could see that because another employee appeared from the mysterious back room and snapped off the case, enabling me to sneak a peek of “J.Crew” printed on the inside.
Too much detail? I’m building up to the good part. Don’t leave me now!
The man was doing a lot of talking and I was only half paying attention to WHAT he was saying because I was trying to place the voice. It was a very distinctive voice, something that I KNOW I’ve heard before — a bit of an elegant and classy Southern kind of drawl, a deeply resonant sound that I found to be VERY SEXY.
For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out who it was. I ran through all the names and faces of celebrities in my head – nope, nope, nope.
At this point, I was openly staring at him. He has beautiful eyes. I think they were blue, but I’m not sure even though, I swear, I was inches away. Poor guy, he prolly thought he had a stalker next to him. He could prolly smell my bad breath as I thought to myself, did I even brush my teeth that day? and surreptitiously opened my handbag and slipped a cinnamon Altoids between my lips.
I totally blanked (senior moment, perhaps?) and decided it must be someone who worked at Apple, maybe someone from San Francisco or something. Whatev. No biggie. I looked around. No one else seemed to be staring in our direction, no one was taking pics or coming up for an autograph.
Except for the voice. I KNEW that voice. Was it driving me crazy? You bet it was. I told you how close we were. I could have reached out and caressed his unshaven cheek and stroked his dark blonde/silvery hair. Nice hair.
Do you wonder who it was? Can you guess?
Finally, my tech came back with the good news/bad news that my laptop needed to be purged and the OS reinstalled and all would be better, but it would take a few days. Best news of all, the repair was free.
Mostly though, I wasn’t paying attention to anything he said ‘cos I was going nuts trying to figure out who was practically sitting in my lap, but I gathered up my stuff and prepared to walk away, still puzzled.
I hopped off the stool, turned, and walked a few steps away. I really did.
But the story doesn’t end there.
Another Apple employee walked up to me, laughing. She said I should see the look on my face. Huh? Oh, I guess I looked perplexed.
She said, “Don’t you know who that is?”
I replied, “I know the voice, but my brain won’t come up with the name to match it.”
She whispered, “Al Gore.”
Damn. OF COURSE. Stupid me.
AL GORE. Vice President and almost President but for a few hanging chads; Nobel Prize winner, author, and filmmaker.
What would you have done? Kept walking out the door? Missed an opportunity?
Not THIS girl. No way.
I turned and walked back to the stool where AL GORE and his girlfriend were still chatting with the manager.
I interrupted their conversation as I stuck out my hand to shake his, and told him I couldn’t believe I was sitting there all that time and I hadn’t said anything and it must have been because I didn’t think I was seeing correctly and that he was who he was (brilliant conversationalist, right?) because I just had laser surgery to repair a torn retina and he was like (I said “like” a LOT). Don’t you like like how speedily I turned the conversation to my favorite subject, ALL ABOUT ME?)
His GF was really nice and asked me all sorts of questions about the surgery and seemed to know quite a bit about it, and how painful it was. Finally, we talked about my broken computer, and Al (see how I call him Al now that we’re besties?) asked me if I was being treated right at the Apple Store and duh of course I said yes, but secretly I was thinking to myself, “not half as good as you were treated”, and there wasn’t much else to say after that, so we shook hands again. My parting words were something stupid like, “I hope you’re enjoying my little town of Carlsbad”.
So lame.
And so lame that I didn’t snap an Al Gore-Princess Rosebud selfie, but I thought it wasn’t appropriate — so alas, no photo.
But I swear it’s true.
He’s lost a lot of weight and I think that’s why I had a hard time identifying his voice.
Wow. Now I’m thinking if I had actually touched him, the Secret Service would have had me down on the floor and I’d be writing this from a federal prison OR you’d never hear from me again.
Did I ask him about climate change? Nope. Did I thank him for inventing the internet? Nope. Did I mention that my Yale professor son would really like a tenure-track position at Stanford and could he help make that happen? Nope. Did I mention that I voted for him (which I had)? Nope. I talked about ME. ME. ME. ME.
Me in my ratty camel-toed Lululemons with zero makeup and my hair in a curly scrunchie ponytail. Good one, Princess. Good one.
Whatever anyone might think of his politics and/or personal life, I can verify that he is VERY SEXY up close and that’s really all I cared about at that moment. And he smells good, too! Yum.
His girlfriend is Liz Keadle and in an interesting it’s-a-small-world-six-degrees kind of thing, Liz Keadle was formerly married to Lyle Turner, founder of Invitrogen, a huge biotech company in Carlsbad, famous for their vertical integration. My son used to intern at Invitrogen (when he went to UCSD and initially majored in Molecular Biology) and met Lyle Turner on several occasions.
Crazy random connection right?
P.S. I learned my lesson. When I went back to pick up my now functioning MacAir, I wore white skinny jeans and a tunic top with just a hint of cleavage and four-inch wedges. Makeup perfect, hair blown straight. Didn’t see anyone at all. I was in and out of the Apple Store in less than five minutes. A total waste of time.
*Sighs*
Let me introduce my new best friends, Liz Keadle and Al Gore.
#AppleStore #AlGore #Famouspeople
What Does a Cosmo, the Trauma Unit, and Mother’s Day Have In Common?
For this #MothersDay, I’m honored to welcome a special guest poster on Enchanted Seashells by Princess Rosebud…my very own daughter-in-law, or as we fondly refer to her, DIL. I know you’ll love this post as much as I do. Happy Mother’s Day, everyone!
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What Does a Cosmo, the Trauma Unit, and Mother’s Day Have In Common?
As we sit 20,000 feet up in seats 1C, 1D, & 1E, our little team can almost exhale as we head home from Boston to San Diego.
Rewind ten days.
What would you do at 4:00 a.m. when you’re terrified in the Emergency Room. Your husband is in agony. The surgeons’ don’t know what’s up and the pain meds aren’t working?
You call family.
Nobody wants to make that call. I knew that waking up MIL in the middle of the night to tell her that her Angel Boy was in the Emergency Room hooked up to morphine 3000 miles away would put the ice-cold, fear-of-God in her.
I took a deep breath and dialed. When she did not pick up I knew the panic she would feel when I called again right after.
No one wants to see their DIL’s number twice in a row in the middle of the night.
When I got through I told her calmly what was happening. I could hear the panic in her voice but she responded exactly as a mother should. She said that she was on her way. Not just hopping in the car or on the bus. She was booking tickets to fly across the country without a moment’s thought. I knew that I had opened them to that sick pain and fear I was feeling – but it had made me feel better. I knew whatever was coming I did not have to face it alone. And that’s what good mothers do. They take on your pain, so you can feel better.
From then on, I counted the hours until they arrived. Literally. I did not leave AB’s side until they got there and I knew another loved one could watch over him.
It had been fifteen hours in the hospital without even a cuppa. I had screamed, cried, fought, and begged every RN, CRN, resident, consultant, physician, surgeon, radiologist, you name it. But now I knew I had some people on my team.
Team AB.
The next ten days after the surgery went by on auto-pilot. I’m convinced Team AB drove the whole floor nuts. We were on their ass 24/7 – from wash clothes, to walks, to IV, to test, results, more CTs — we did not stop for a moment to breathe.
But me and MIL were on the same team, working together, side by side, to make sure our AB got better.
It’s true when they say you have to laugh or you’ll cry. Too true! In amongst all of the drama and fear we belly laughed. I mean really laughed. Even when Jason’s roommate “One Tooth Tommy’s” girlfriend overdosed him on her street Xanex. Or or when I got some sympathy gas in the canteen in front of a table of young cute residents.
The day AB was getting discharged, I woke up and I looked over in our hotel room to see MIL sleeping and next to her an empty glass of wine, vodka tonic, and the remains of my Cosmo. What can I say? It had been one of those weeks.
And now as we head home to San Diego, it could not be more perfect that tomorrow is Mother’s Day.
Because it’s definitely time to celebrate MIL.
When an emergency hits – it comes out of nowhere and the whole world stops.
Everything is stripped back and you see people for who they really are.
Raw.
What we saw this week was the purest and selfless love of a mother.
AB, you are lucky to have such a mom.
And I am lucky to have a friend, a partner in crime, and the best MIL you could wish for!
Happy Mother’s Day!
Full Circle From Hell to Happiness
So…we’re all sitting at Gate 36 at Boston Logan Airport, waiting for our flight to San Diego, the final leg of our massive journey to bring home Angel Boy. YAY!!!
We can literally see the light at the end of the tunnel.
I feel like I gave birth to him all over again.
It all started with the call at 3am that propelled the labor pains to GET TO HIM at any and all cost.
‘Cos you never know, right? What if we had been flying and it was too late? What if we had landed, turned on our cells, and learned the worst had occurred while we were desperately working to make it to the hospital before his emergency surgery? The what ifs were killing us. What if the surgeon couldn’t fix him? What if he had a rupture? What if he suffered a massive infection that couldn’t be controlled? It was touch and go for a while, but he pulled through — we ALL pulled through…
Lucky for him AND for us, none of those fears came true, and that’s why we’re here at the airport and get back to my normal routine of going to the gym, cleaning the house, baking, and of course, SHOPPING!!
On a serious note…
This whole experience got me thinking…always a dangerous thing, right?
I believe that it’s critically important, if you’re ever hospitalized, to have a family member (or two) act in the capacity of an advocate — with the docs, the nursing staff, and the insurance company.
It’s next to impossible for the patient to communicate on his own behalf or even function at all –when he’s in pain and suffering — before surgery, especially emergency surgery, and after surgery when he’s basically comatose and drugged up, during the entire stay and up to the exit strategy.
RNs have about eight patients at a time; because of that, we handled most of my son’s personal care.
DIL and I stayed with him 24/7, taking turns sleeping in the recliner next to his bed.
We took his temp, cleaned him, took him to the bathroom, kept after him every few minutes to use the little tool to keep his lungs healthy, and when he started walking the very next day post-surgery, we walked him further and further every day.
It was back to basics: baby steps. Measuring his urinary volume, charting his temp, checking for gas, helping him to the bathroom — the simple joy of having his naso-gastric tube removed called for applause and cheers.
Baby steps. Walking further every day. Walking with the IV detached. Ditching the hospital gown and wearing his own clothes.
The first meal after eight days was spectacular. Chicken broth and apple juice constituted a feast. My already thin boy had lost so much weight. More baby steps.
Even though they check vital signs once an hour, we were there to monitor any changes minute by minute.
When he started to run a temp, we alerted the RN and she alerted his surgeon and because of our “assertiveness”, a ton of blood tests were ordered along with a CT scan to rule out infection or abcess. It turned out that he DID have a blood infection, but not MRSA, the scary one, and it responded well to antibiotics.
The final issues were insurance-related, and we had to literally drive the discharge process and all that red tape in order to leave the hospital in a timely manner.
They’ve just called for our flight; back to sunny SoCal, back to the beach, back to retail therapy. Holla!
It was a hellish ten days, but I really feel like I’ve given birth all over again…to a healthy thirty-three year old baby boy! Happy Mother’s Day, everyone!
Time to Exhale: Hospital Update
Thank you, thank you, thank you! Thank you all for your words of encouragement, support, and compassion. It was super appreciated and really helped to cheer me up when things seemed a little touch and go, if you know what I mean.
Staying in a hospital for more than a few days is UNREAL.
You can’t help but be drawn into the complex interpersonal dramas on the floor — with staff AND the rest of the patients.
We have been here 24/7. My DIL and I took turns spending the night with my son in his hospital room so that he’d never be alone. We stayed in a hotel that was close, a place to take showers and catch a few hours of sleep.
My son recovered from surgery on the trauma floor with motorcycle crash victims, auto accidents, thyroidectomies, as well as those injured performers from the circus. You prob saw it on TV, right? The human chandelier circus performers who fell forty feet in Providence, Rhode Island? They’re here, being treated for some really horrific injuries.
It was a total media frenzy scene that caused the hospital to go CRAZY. News vans were EVERYWHERE — Fox, CNN, all the big names plus local news.
And then there was the doozy of a roomie — you will NOT believe this is for real, but I swear it’s the truth.
A guy we’ve named “One Tooth Tommy” (for obvious reasons) was the victim of a horrific car crash. He was in the passenger seat, but the driver was running from the police — and ran smack into a telephone pole. The driver escaped unharmed, but his passenger ended up with two smashed legs, two smashed hips, a cracked pelvis, broken arm, broken ribs, and a rod in his back.
It became painfully obvious to us that Tommy’s own long standing personal relationship with drugs made it impossible for a normal amount of morphine to have any effect on his pain. He was only twenty-six years old yet he looked not a day younger than forty.
So…in addition to selling drugs from the hospital room, his girlfriend decided to take matters into her own hands and reduce his pain all by herself by giving him Xanax and probably a cocktail of other things — and almost ended him, too.
I walked by his bed and noticed that he appeared comatose, and not that I wasn’t grateful for the cessation of his swearing and screaming for more drugs, but his “self-medication” seemed to have potentially become PERMANENT, if you know what I mean.
I flew out of the room and flagged down his RN. She rushed in, attempted to rouse him and couldn’t. She tried asking him all kinds of questions; “what’s your name”, “do you know where you are”…basic stuff that we all need to know, I guess. Right?
When her attempts failed, she grabbed a doctor who was able to marginally rouse him and again attempted to ascertain any lucidity and level of compos mentis. He didn’t know his name or where he was, which caused another, elevated level of response to the situation.
The doc immediately shut-off all IV pain medication and he slowly started to become more alert; well, as alert as One Tooth Tommy probably ever is…if ya know where I’m going with THAT.
The nurse had a stern “chat” with the girlfriend about how it wasn’t a good idea to take matters into her own hands because it was unsafe for her boyfriend and it could have killed him.
We’re not sure how much she comprehended as she had also medicated herself quite liberally, and was slurring her words and weaving up and down the hallway.
You would be absolutely correct if you figured that we removed my son was from that room faster than the speed of light, and he had only shared the space with Tommy One Tooth for about twenty-four hours but that’s not the kind of atmosphere that engenders healing, so yes, we requested a move to another room with a window.
The new roommate was an ex-Marine who was a welcome and awesome change — a real gentleman as well as a hero. His reason for being in the hospital? He was stabbed several times in his back and liver because he tried to intervene and break up a fight at a restaurant. A real-life hero.
I’ve got a zillion bizarre stories like this; I should write a screenplay for sure.
But for now, I’m just happy that hell week is drawing to a close and we’ll be going home tomorrow. I can finally breathe. Yay! Pop the bubbly!
That Dreaded Call at 3:00 A.M.
2020 Update:
I’m going to re-post this one from 2014 because I just saw this meme that triggered a memory. There have been many other moments like this, but the one that came first to my mind was at the hospital where we waited hours for the surgeon to walk off the elevator and tell us what the hell happened to my baby boy, and IF he was going to survive. Or not. I was strong, I was calm, I didn’t cry at all in front of anyone, but at one point, I remember going to the bathroom to cry a bit in private so I wouldn’t scare DIL, and I looked at myself in the mirror and told myself that if I cried, he died, so STOP IT and I forced myself to only think positive thoughts about the outcome, I’m not one that likes the anxiety of a cliffhanger, so I’ll tell you that he DID survive AND thrive, and that’s why we now have Angel Boy 2.0 and Angel Girl 2.0. But on that day and for two months after that, every day might have been his last, and I’m grateful for his every breath. If you know me IRL, you’ll know that is a very true statement.
May 2014
They are always our babies, no matter their age, ya know?
Right now, things have calmed down a bit. Fingers crossed, we’ve avoided a crisis of nightmare proportions…
…Monday 3:00 a.m., the incessant ringing of my cell jolts me awake.
I can’t find the damn phone and it stops ringing only to start again.
This time I found it buried under a pile of clean laundry.
When I saw my daughter-in-law’s name on the screen, I almost didn’t want to answer it.
Nothing good comes from a phone call at 3:00 a.m.
Nothing.
And not this time, either.
With a bad connection and dropped words, trying to hear/not wanting to hear, she told me that my son, Angel Boy, was taken to an ER in Rhode Island because of excruciating stomach pains and vomiting.
“What?” That’s all I could say. She had to repeat herself a few times and talk slowly. I wasn’t comprehending.
The pain was worsening and his belly had become distended and was filling with fluid.
The first thing you think of is appendicitis or even a burst appendix, but the tests were inconclusive.
There were other diagnoses floating around but none of the tests pointed to a specific diagnosis: gastritis, diverticulitis, colitis…
The pain was overwhelming and not responsive to morphine.
There seemed to be no other alternative than to admit him and prepare for more invasive testing.
A surgical team was hastily thrown together as exploratory surgery seemed to be the only option.
We’re in California. I’s 3:00 a.m. What do we do?
The Universe was in alignment and we were able to get the last seats on a direct flight out first thing in the morning and we arrived at the hospital in time to discuss Angel Boy’s medical condition.
Whatever it was, was serious, and needed immediate intervention.
Or. Or I won’t say, but you get the picture. OR is NOT good.
Because his belly was continuing to distend as it filled with fluid and the pain was increasing, there seemed no alternative than a laparascopy with a camera.
The head surgeon speculated about what he might find: a possible bowel obstruction AND something with his appendix.
We gave him the go ahead to fix what he saw, no matter what he found.
We all kissed him goodbye as the first pre-op drugs entered his body and the surgery commenced at 8:00 p.m.
At 10:30 the surgeon came out with a smile.
Apparently, my son had a congenital defect we were never aware of — because up until then it had never caused a problem.
An abnormal sac or pouch that develops at a weak point in the intestines is known as a diverticulum. In some instances, people are born with a diverticulum in their intestines. This condition is called Meckel’s diverticulum.
Meckel’s diverticulum develops between the 5th and 7th weeks of fetal growth.
Because the condition is present at birth, it is classified as a congenital health issue. Although it generally remains silent, life threatening complications may arise.
And they did.
It was a perfect storm of a worst case scenario.
He had a massive bowel obstruction; intestines were strangulated and all knotted up. By the time the surgery started, two feet (24 inches!!!) of intestine had lost blood supply and died, all within a time span of twelve hours. The surgeon removed the necrotic part, did a resection, including eight inches of colon and removal of his appendix.
Without this life-saving surgery, there is no doubt that this Mother’s Day would not have been. It’s anticipated that he’ll have a rapid recovery — he’s already walking around around due in large part to his overall good health and fitness level.
Now, as soon as he’s released and we can fly him back to SoCal, my Mother’s Day will be spent caring for my Angel Boy and nursing him back to health.
His future is as bright as it ever was; this was just a brief course change in a life full of joy and adventure.
P.S. The surgical team at Rhode Island Hospital were/are AMAZING. We lucked out with a guy who clearly enjoys what he does, who knew his way around this type of surgery, and explained it all to us with intelligence and humor.
Angel’s Landing @ Zion National Park: Photos
A few of my favorite pics from our road trip last week:
Pretty pink flowers growing out of the mountain wall at Angel’s Landing
Beautiful bright red bird!
Looking down from the top of Angel’s Landing. Don’t climb this if you have vertigo!!
Surrounded by beauty.
The view from the top while we ate a snack of nuts and apples.
#ZionNationalPark #AngelsLanding #photography #travel #nature #hiking #camping #Utah
Wandering To Zion
We’re packed and ready to leave early Sunday morning on a road trip to Zion National Park.
It’s a place we’ve always wanted to visit — hopefully we’ll get to more than one park –have you seen all the TV commercials about Utah’s Mighty Five?
Utah’s five national parks have it all. See unique soaring spires, towering pinnacles, sandstone canyons, and intricately eroded arches of sculptured stone.
I’d love to camp and hike at Canyonlands National Park and Arches National Park, too, and we’ll be try to include at least a couple days at Petrified Forest National Park in Arizona.
We might stay at a hotel or a lodge for a night, especially since the weather calls for night temps in the 30s and the possibility of rain.
It’s been a while since we’ve gone off the grid; I’m really looking forward to beautiful country and some long, rigorous hikes.
Wearing my Chanel sunglasses to pop a squat in the desert; always fashion forward no matter where I go, that’s the way I roll.
Yay for adventures!
Flowering Mulberry Tree — Photos
Even in SoCal, fruit trees go through the whole process of dropping leaves in the fall, staying dormant through our mild winter, and spring is the time for budding, flowering, and fruit development.
This is our uber-prolific mulberry tree with fresh new leaves and unique flowers.
As the new leaves develop in mid-spring, tiny male and female flowers hang on separate small, slender, inconspicuous spikes. The male cluster is longer, the female rounder.
It’s been unseasonably warm — almost ninety degrees!! — and I think that’s what is causing an early flowering.
Click on the link for my mulberry jam recipe. https://enchantedseashells.com/2013/06/25/here-we-go-round-the-mulberry-bush-tree/
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 