The amaryllis story continues—and a bit of cabin fever

 

My amaryllis today
on my messy desk

My amaryllis is glorious today and a great source of cheer during this snap of winter in Texas, although today was sunny and bright. Subie’s amaryllis story is not so happy, although I understand she has a second plant. Jordan and I gave her one for Christmas (she is hard because her birthday is just before Christmas, and I am sometimes stretched to choose two imaginative gifts). So we saw amaryllis on sale in November, and I thought it was perfect for one or the other of those occasions.

Subie's amaryllis

Recently she told me when she opened it, it had already bloomed—in the box. There were stubs at the stalk where the blooms had been and died. I was embarrassed to say the least, but she saw the bright side—the plant was growing a new plant. She plans to leave it in the pot and see what it does. I’ve never heard of one doing that before.

And on the subject of plants, the orchid Subie brought me went into the house today to what I consider Christian’s orchid hospital. He has a remarkable record of getting them to bloom a second and third time. This one had a lovely striated cream-colored petal with a dark purple center. The thing is I sometimes have to remind him that a certain plant that is reblooming needs to come back to the cottage. The main house has two west-facing greenhouse windows in the kitchen, and orchids love it there.

Cabin fever got me yesterday. These are the things I did not do: write my daily quota on my work-in-progress; get dressed; make my bed; cook my supper; do my exercises. These are the things I did do: spent the day in the clothes I slept in (Jordan would frown); took a long nap; reheated frozen leftovers for my supper; spent way too much time on Facebook; started reading a new mystery, the eighteenth Coffee House Mystery by the husband/wife team who write as Cleo Coyle. (Reading for an author can always be justified as continuing education.)

Today is a much better day. As twilight sets in, I have gotten dressed and made my bed, fixed a good lunch, and planned dinner for all of us—we’re still quarantining, so we’ll transport part of it from cottage to the house. I’ve written a bit more than my thousand words for the day and am writing my blog earlier than usual, and I’ve put away clean linen and done some other household chores, including watering my plants.

The world outside this evening reminds me of Chicago or Missouri—the snow is melting, so what’s left is dirty, gray, sparse. My patio looks like a swamp, awash with dirty water. But because we are north-facing my front steps are still iced, and there’s a patch of ice on the driveway and snow outside my desk window. My mom used to complain long and loud about the gray snow in Chicago, because when I was young so many households, including ours, heated with coal. And it’s true—clean white snow was dirty gray almost as soon as it fell.

I remember the same when I was in school in northeast Missouri. I was in a relatively small town, Kirksville (12,000 population not counting students at the two colleges in town). Most people heated with coal, and snow stayed on the ground forever. They don’t call that northeast corner of the state an icebox for no reason. I remember getting up morning after morning and seeing a dirty gray world. And I drove a VW bug which didn’t fit the ruts in the roads, so getting to and from school and work was an adventure. I really longed for spring. The nice thing about Texas (except last year) is that we are pretty sure the snow will disappear in a day or two.

A friend said to me today she doesn’t understand how I can stay in the cottage day after day, because she was stir-crazy being in for two days. I think one reason is that, with my walker and because I no longer drive, getting out is a bit more complicated. And when Covid was new and a much bigger threat, I got used to staying in. In fact, I kind of liked it, and most days I still do. I have lots to do and a comfortable pattern to my days. When it’s six and I pour myself a glass of wine, I think, “Well, there goes another day.” That’s a bit of a mixed bag, because at my age I don’t want to wish the days away, but on the other hand it’s good to come to the end of a day and feel satisfied about it. Can you tell I’m feeling a bit defensive?

Chronicle of an amaryllis

 

My amaryllis this morning
Note the metal ring holding the second stalk
Ignore the junky desk--at least it's near a window

Because of Christmas in Austin and then, on return, covid and quarantine and who knows what else, I was late in starting the Christmas amaryllis I was given. But once I started it, it took off bigtime. Last night, Subie and Phil were here, and I was bemoaning my need for another dowel road since the plant is growing so fast. Today Subie brought me one that is a metal rod with a loop to gently hold the blooming stalk. I swear the plant has burst out more this evening than this morning, but I couldn’t capture the growth on camera.

Coincidentally, Jordan and I had given Subie an amaryllis for Christmas. True confession: it was one we happened on early in the shopping season. To my embarrassment, she said last night that when she opened it, it had already bloomed without growing a stalk. I wish she had taken a picture, but she said there was a cluster of blooms at the base. And now it has sprouted on entirely new plant, which she is nursing along.

I found the almost-blooming amaryllis a cheerful portent on this partly cloudy day with the threat of all of winter’s worst weapons hanging over us. But my day was compromised again by computer stuff. This morning, after one or two false starts, the Wi-Fi connection held all morning, so I put off calling AT&T so I could work while I had the connection. But this afternoon, it went on, off, on, off—as fast as I could blink. So I called. Had to call the automated man who three times told me he could fix it, and all I had to do was subscribe to something for seven more dollars a month. He would say just go to this website, and I ended up screaming, “I can’t, because I don’t have a connection.” I also screamed, “Talk to a person.”

Finally in a brief moment of connectivity I found a different 800 number and called. Best call I’ve ever had with AT&T, a company that generally raises my blood pressure fifteen notches. A young lady in whatever country—I had to ask her to speak up and slowly—said if I would be patient, she could clear the connection, whatever that means. And that’s where I was, being patient, when Mary came for happy hour.

The first fix the young lady tried didn’t work but the second seemed to, and so far I have Wi-Fi. So happy. It’s really impossible to do almost anything without it.

Mary and I had a good visit with lots of talk about cooking and plentiful advice from her about using my new air fryer. I’m about ready to try the marinated chicken drumettes I have in the freezer. She also watered the poinsettia that’s in a corner by the couch where I can’t get to it and found two books on my shelves that she wants to read.

And another piece of good news today—my car came home! I looked out this afternoon, and there it was in the driveway. Made me sad and nostalgic for a moment. It has been at a repair shop Christian uses for months—I got really suspicious. Was the guy driving it? Selling it for parts? What could possibly be taking that long? And how much would it cost me? Christian tried to reassure me, but I was a nag about it. So today, it’s home, the bill is reasonable, and Jordan wants to drive it from time to time. I thought we were going to sell it, but if she needs it—her car too is old and not always reliable—that’s okay. At least I have it where I can see it.

In a day of good omens, I reached the 20K mark on my novel-in-progress. Well, okay, it’s really 19, 967 so I am thirty-three words short, but, hey! I‘ll make those up tomorrow. The big deal to me is that I now have one-third of a novel. Still plugging along, wondering where it is going to take me next, what Irene has up her sleeve.

So, it’s been a good day. I’m afraid my feelings of optimist may get beaten down by rain, ice, sleet, and snow, but I hope to stay cozy in the cottage and keep on keeping on. I have lots of food—and Jordan will do a curbside pickup tomorrow. We have menus planned for the next few days, and we’ll be fine. I have a novel to write and lots of good books to read.

Y’all stay safe and warm. Take care of animals, and plants, and yourselves. Watch out for the elderly in your neighborhood. Arctic storms are one of those times when we all need to look out for each other.