My little angels know how to make Grandma happy. Look what came in the mail, whole and undamaged.
It’s a gigantic, perfectly formed, preserved, and decayed leaf they found in their front yard. It brings me so much joy that the first thing they thought of was that it’s something I would appreciate.
I immediately framed it to admire every day.
March is here, winter shifts to spring, trees are budding and leafing, and it’s important to remember that autumn’s falling leaves were the catalyst to everything new. This leaf died so that more will grow; the inevitable circle of life.
It completely fills out an 8.5 x 11 frame. Isn’t this amazing?
All of our crazy weather including half the rain we usually get made for an early spring. The fruit trees are flowering, the ash tree did its thing and is leafed out already, as well as the grapes.
Not at all native to this weird deserty, sometimes Mediterranean climate, I saw a forsythia bush and couldn’t walk away without bringing her home. I paid full price too, which should tell you how much I wanted it. Teehee.
When I was growing up back east, I knew spring had arrived when my mom took me violet hunting and the lillies of the valley popped up, An even more glorious sign were the budding forsythia and lilac bushes up against the French doors in the living room.
When the weather warmed up enough to open all the doors and windows, their fragrance was literally breathtaking.
I’ve tried to grow lilacs here and failed, so I don’t have the highest of hopes for this forsythia, but I will try my best.
Fingers crossed, everyone!
P.S. There’s a chance we’ll have rain this week and that’ll make all my plants (and me) happy.
Every so often the Star of India sails in San Diego Bay. I was clearing out some old photos and discovered this one from a few years ago. If you have seen this ship at all, it was probably lining the dock in downtown San Diego, but in case you didn’t know, this is the world’s oldest active sailing ship and still sails a few times a year with an all volunteer crew.
The Star of India was built on the Isle of Man in 1863. Iron ships were experimental at that time with most vessels still being built out of wood. Within five months of laying her keel, the ship was launched. She was originally named Euterpe after the Greek muse of music and poetry.
Euterpe was a full-rigged ship and would remain so until 1901, when the Alaska Packers Association rigged her down to a barque, her present rig.
She began her sailing life with two near-disastrous voyages to India. On her first trip she suffered a collision and a mutiny. On her second trip, a cyclone caught Euterpe in the Bay of Bengal, and with her topmasts cut away, she barely made port. Shortly afterward, her first captain died on board and was buried at sea.
After such a hard luck beginning, Euterpe made four more voyages to India as a cargo ship. In 1871 she was purchased by the Shaw Savill Line of London.
Subsequently sold to the Alaska Packer Fleet, her name was changed in 1906 to the Star of India to match the other vessels in their fleet. The Star of India made over 22 Alaskan voyages before becoming obsolete in the 1920s as steam power propulsion became more reliable than wind.
The Zoological Society of San Diego purchased the ship in 1926 for use as the centerpiece of a planned maritime museum and aquarium. The Great Depression in the 30s and World War II caused those plans to be put on hold and the Star of India lay idle until she was restored in the late 50s and early 60s.
Fully restored by 1976, the Star of India set sail as part of the United States’ Bicentennial celebration.
Interesting Facts:
Launched five days before Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address
First thing this morning, directly outside my bedroom window, I was greeted by not one, not two, but THREE bunnies! I knew right then and there that it was going to be a great day.
I could see this gigantic ship pretty much all the way from my house and I don’t think it moved at all, or very slowly, by the time I made it to the beach. Going north or south, I can’t tell. It was quite a few miles offshore, that’s why it’s not a clear photo.
I was sitting crosslegged on top of a cement picnic table on the sidewalk overlooking the beach when someone walked by and told me I looked quite peaceful. Maybe it’s because of the way I was sitting, meditatively, but the thoughts in my head weren’t so serene. It was H-O-T and I was not looking forward to the long UPHILL walk back to Casa de Enchanted Seashells. In addition to those thoughts, I had to use the restroom and the beach bathroom isn’t the most luxurious, but when you gotta go…So I did and then I could no longer delay the inevitable — I walked home.
A little violet plant surprised me today in the garden. I don’t know how it came to grow here, especially since Southern California is not the most suitable habitat. Violets prefer damp, well-drained ground and the sun-dappled protection of woodlands, none of which I have.
I was reminded of a special time with my mom. Every spring we’d bring willow baskets with handles and go to the stone bridge at Palmer Park in Detroit and fill them with purple and white violets.
When we returned home, my mom and I would fill every vase and glass we could find with the fragrance of these beauties. Sometimes I’d press a few in a book to find at a later date when it was dried and papery but still evoked the faintest perfume.
Since there’s no rational explanation, I’ll just thank my mom for her visit to guide my happy memories of those lovely times we shared.
Ambedo – n. a kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details-raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee.
Or while you pick weeds under the loquat tree and look up to see sugar peas in a pod backlit by the sun.
The pea plants decided to have a life of their own and the tendrils became entwined in the branches of the tree because I didn’t stake them good enough.
I became lost in time, entranced by the simple green perfection. I l subsequently discovered there’s a word for that: ambedo.
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 