Not Too Shy Shasta Daisy

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A couple years ago, I rescued a sad and wilted Shasta daisy from the garden center and tended it with love and care. Since then, I’ve divided it into enough plants to fill an entire bed under the dining room windows.

It wasn’t at all reticent about outgrowing container after container until I had no choice but to allow it to freely spread.

Named after the snowy peaks of Mount Shasta in California, the perennial Shasta daisy (Leucanthemum x superbum) seems to be extremely hardy.

Once established, they are vigorous growers and easily spread via rhizomes. They make lovely cut flowers, but I also learned these daisies are toxic to dogs and cats.

They’re not shy about how bold and beautiful they are!

Daddy’s Girl

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Happy Father’s Day!

I learned a lot from mine about a lot of things, and I think that’s also most likely where the ancestral sarcastic form of humor emanated from as I passed it on to my son, the master of snarky, biting, brilliantly accurate commentary,

DNA is strong here…always a daddy’s girl.

He’s the one who first started calling me “Rosebud”. The addition of “Princess” seemed to make a lot of sense, especially when he did things like giving me HIS birthday so I’d be able to have another day of celebration (and presents).

I’m sorry he never got to meet the original Angel Boy; they could have talked for hours about literature and life.

At the time my dad was college age, he was prohibited from pursuing a medical career all because of Jewish quotas, the barriers Ivy League universities erected to limit the number of Jewish students.

He would have been so proud of Angel Boy’s Yale doctorate. where they previously practiced overt and rampant anti-Semitic and racist policies.

According to Dan Oren’s book, Joining the Club — A History of Jews and Yale, Yale University’s informal admissions policy to restrict the school’s Jewish student body to around ten percent ended in the early 1960s.

That’s pretty disgusting part of America’s history, don’t you agree?

Anyway, after a little detour to protest racism, I hope everyone has a happy Sunday!

Blooming Cups of Gold

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I don’t know when this Cup of Gold (Solandra maxima) vine will stop growing but I’m going to allow it to live freely without pruning.

It’s already outgrown the arbor and now stretches like a canopy from tree to tree…The flowers are about six inches wide with a light tropical fragrance.

For the first time this year, it looks like the sun is almost ready to come out. We’ve had a very gloomy first half of 2023 with a heavy marine layer and unseasonably cool weather.

I’m looking forward to blue sky again!

The World of Literature Lost a Great One – Cormac McCarthy

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“Keep a little fire burning; however small, however hidden.”
—Cormac McCarthy, The Road

While his raw, savage, and uncompromising style of writing wasn’t REALLY my cup of tea as I’m an unashamed fan of happily-ever-after chick lit, I have read a couple of books by Cormac McCarthy.

MY habit of skipping over sections that contain any sort of violence probably causes me to miss a lot of narrative, but I think I come away with the gist of his message regarding the human affinity for brutality, which I personally abhor.

Even so, I can still be awed by his ability to convey the darkest sides of humanity (inhumanity) and his unflinching bare bones descriptions of people and places I’m happy I never met.

I read that McCarthy was very much influenced by William Faulkner, one of my favorite authors.

I haven’t seen the films adapted from his novels for the same reason I only touched the outer edges of his published works — the dark side doesn’t appeal to me.

Wiki recalls McCarthy this way: “Cormac McCarthy was an American writer who authored twelve novels, two plays, five screenplays, and three short stories, spanning the Western and postapocalyptic genres. He was known for his graphic depictions of violence and his unique writing style, recognizable by a sparse use of punctuation and attribution.”

Cormac McCarthy won the Pulitzer Prize for The Road. It was recently reported that another of his novels, Blood Meridian, will be made into a feature film directed by John Hillcoat, who directed the film adaptation of The Road.

Zesty Veggie Hummus #Vegan Pinwheels

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FINALzesty

Veggie Hummus Pinwheels are the perfect choice for a summer party or barbecue.

Hummus is so easy to prepare from scratch that it’s a staple here at Casa de Enchanted Seashells. (Recipe below.)

It’s mostly all prep work. Organizing your ingredients makes it easy. I don’t like onions, but the addition of a thinly sliced red onion would be a wonderful crunchy flavor enhancer.

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I used a handheld mandolin to thinly slice the veggies. Carrots, bell pepper, mushrooms, cucumber, and freshly steamed, chopped spinach. Make sure you squeeze out all of the cooking juice and save for soup stock later in the week.

I had some leftover guacamole and used that too. Organic pea shoots and cilantro (coriander to you all from across the pond) rounded out the healthy deliciousness. Add a squeeze of sweet chili sauce or sriracha (if you can find it!) to make it super zesty.

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**For a really low calorie option, use a large lettuce leaf instead of a carb-filled tortilla.

Simply spread, layer, roll, and cut.

Spread with hummus, guacamole, spinach (this one doesn’t have spinach, but I used a slice of veggie cheddar cheese. The important part is to layer all the veggies on the side of the wrap or tortilla closest to you. Sometimes I heat the tortilla to make it a little more pliable.

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Start rolling, keeping it tight. That’s the secret to a successful roll up. If you’ve ever made sushi, it’s the same principle, without using a bamboo mat. Tah dah! A fat little cigar shaped roll of yumminess.Cut in half with a sharp knife. 

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Keep cutting…eating the ends as you go. Well, at least that’s what I did.
Turn them up so they’re smiling pinwheels, choose a special serving platter, and add a little garnish: here I used cilantro, pea shoots, and thinly sliced LIME.  

FINALzesty

Beautiful, festive, healthy!

BASIC HUMMUS

One 15 oz. can unsalted garbanzo beans (or your own from scratch)
Four garlic cloves
Six tablespoons lemon juice
One-third cup tahini
Salt, pepper, hot pepper sauce

Drain beans, but save juice. Toss it all into a food processor and blend until desired consistency. Add a little juice from the beans as needed. Season to taste.
That’s it! Couldn’t be any easier, right?
Options: Add chopped, drained spinach, jalapeños, roasted red peppers, etc. Use your imagination and experiment. It’s all tasty. Especially if you add a squeeze of lime…

Another Exquisite Disaster

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We had been playing house with her dolls and I styled their hair with braids or headbands and even a sparkly tiara, when Angel Girl said,

“Grandma, take your hair down.”

“Why?”

Those giant eyes scrutinized me with piercing discernment.

(This not-quite-four-year-old is actually quite judgy and has no problem letting me know if I’m wearing the right clothes or if my shoes are tied properly. Definitely some of my DNA, haha.)

“I don’t like it up in a scrunchie, I want to brush your hair.”

Uh oh, I thought to myself. I remember another little girl who used to love to brush my hair and it always turned out to be an exquisite disaster.

When hair is as curly as mine, it’s next to impossible to brush. The only time I can attempt it is when it’s freshly washed and I comb in product.

But will I say no? Not on your life.

“OK, I replied, “but PLEASE be as gentle as I am with your hair and T’s hair. You know it hurts to pull.”

Eye roll. “OK, Grandma. Sit down and turn around.”

Yes, ma’am! These are definitely two bossy boots angel kids.

For the next few minutes, while the angel stands behind me, all is silent as her brush unsuccessfully attempts to glide its way through my hair. She was intensely concentrating on arranging my hair into a semblance of “style.”

I feel her little hands twisting and pulling and puffing up certain areas. I’m afraid to look.

“What are you doing back there? Can I look?”

“Not yet. Grandma, hand me your scrunchie.”

“Here you go.”

Somehow the scrunchie is now imbedded in all of that twisting and spiraling and brushed out tangled up curly bird’s nest of her creative endeavors.

I know it’s going to be a long hard road to untangle the knots, but when she finally tells me she’s done and I can look, the pride (and love) in her eyes was totally worth every bit of it.

“Am I beautiful now?”

“Yes, you ARE beautiful now, Grandma.”

In her eyes, I am, and that’s all that matters.

Later, after the kids were tucked away in bed, I slathered conditioner on my hair, took my wide tooth comb and spent a good half hour or so untangling the knots, and fell asleep with a smile on my face.

These are the rare moments that weave a tapestry of joyful memories. However, I wouldn’t dare share a photo of my medusa-like hair catastrophe!

White Sage

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Thanks to all the rain we had this year, all of my sage plants are healthy and flowering, but this white sage is especially full of delicate lavender-colored sticky blooms.

In fact, the entire plant is more than six feet tall and equally as wide.

This is the variety of sage that’s made into smudging bundles tied with string. “Saging” is the term for burning the leaves of the white sage to cleanse, purify, and protect by dissipating negative energy and spirits. 

Smudging (or smoke cleansing) with white sage is sacred to many Indigenous nations of California and Mexico,

I also learned that scientists have observed that sage can clear up to ninety-four percent of airborne bacteria and disinfect the air.

My method is to gather the leaves that naturally fall to the ground and create a smudge stick from them. Sometimes I’ll add lavender, but I prefer the fragrance of white sage all by itself.

Have you ever smudged or is it just a SoCal thing?

I Am 🩷

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The practice of daily affirmations is a great way to reframe our mental patterns, shifting into positive thinking while learning to dynamically rewire our brain with neuroplasticity.


“I closed my eyes, took a calming breath and listened to my heart call I am… I am… I am…”

~Sylvia Plath The Bell Jar

(In 1982, Plath was posthumously awarded the Pulitzer Prize for her Collected Poems.)

Try these I am affirmations:

I am excited for this day.
I am so grateful to be alive.
I am lovable.
I am worthy.
I’m going to have a great day.
I am open to opportunities.
I am alive.
I am full of joy.
I am at peace.
I am positive.
I am safe.
I am a wonderful person.
I am happy and healthy.
I am.
🩷

Salute The Red Admiral

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I’m so excited! This is the first time I’ve ever seen a Red Admiral butterfly. I had installed a solar powered fountain in the pond only minutes before when this little guy came to visit and take a drink. After that, he spread his wings on the sun warmed rocks and I was able to get a good look.

I hope he hangs around for a while…I’ll try to capture better photos if I see him again.

The Red Admiral (Vanessa atalanta) has much more black than the Monarch. It has a black upper forewing with a bright, diagonal red-orange band across it and spots of white on the tips. It also has a red marginal band on its hindwing and the underside is a mottled brown. 

I found a poem about this butterfly and had to share. I wasn’t able to learn a lot about the poet, David Wood, but I certainly do like his poems!

Sonnet 68: Red Admiral

Patrolling small stretches of the hedgerow
Like a silent sentry on guard duty,
Other butterflies they will overthrow;
The Red Admiral, nature’s real beauty.

Seen fluttering throughout summers hot days
From buddleia to Michaelmas daisies,
And sheltering from the suns golden rays,
All the people will sing of their praises.

But they cannot survive the winter’s cold
Their life is all too brief, a crying shame:
Alas none of them will ever grow old
Their short life is all part of nature’s game.

Their beauty we cannot take for granted
For they are delicately enchanted.

“I’m going to invite you to my birthday party.”

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We’re drawing pictures at the dining room table. I’m not a very good artist and can really only draw butterflies and whales while my companion was creating something that could only be described as nothing I could identify (of course I’d never reveal that.)

She’s an extremely chatty and precociously verbal 3.5 year old, a nonstop talker from the moment she wakes up until the moment she closes her eyes, exactly like her big brother.

Honestly, they are both the most interesting people I know—of any age. I love to spend hours upon hours conversing with them about whatever is in their hearts and minds.

“Here you go. I drew this for you, Grandma!”

“Oh my, that is SO beautiful. Thank you!”

“Grandma, do you know what? I’m going to invite you to my birthday party.”

The way she said it was like a queen bestowing an honor upon one of her subjects. This upcoming birthday is the subject of many conversations. Turning four is a BIG deal.

“That’s awesome, Angel Girl! I accept your invitation. I will love to come to your party. Who else will you invite?”

“Some of my friends from preschool and my brother and that’s it.”

A couple minutes later…

“Can you make a unicorn cake, Grandma?”

“Hmmm, let me think. Yes, I believe I can, Are you sure that you’ll want a unicorn cake for your birthday?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“Well, you’re planning well in advance as your birthday isn’t for a few months. Do you think you might change your mind?”

“No, I won’t. I want a pink and purple unicorn cake.”

“You got it, a pink and purple unicorn, no problem. BUT if you change your mind, that’s OK, too.”

Why do I have a sneaking suspicion that my party invitation might somehow be connected to my ability to bake? Am I being cynical?

Upon reflection, if I could accomplish a decent job on her brother’s Pokemon Ball cake for his 7th birthday (and I did) I think I can attempt a unicorn cake for Angel Girl’s 4th year around the sun. It’s really just a horse shaped cake with an upside down ice cream cone in the center of its head, but don’t tell HER,

There’s nothing better than to be able to grant those kinds of wishes.