Reset

I roam wide and far online. Some places involve conversations. Some "merely" input programming, or some paragraphs of data.  And of course there's shopping, especially the advance grocery orders so we can avoid entering a store. Eventually it starts to catch up with you, particularly when some sites both quote something and for verification, add a link to the source.

I started having trouble loading stuff I wanted to read. I love a quick perusal of a site and lining up several articles to be read in depth along my search bar to pick later, waiting for me before I can forget them from that initial look. I started getting blank pages when I tried opening them.  Add in a few other issues, and it was time to clear out some stuff.

Of course I did it wrong. But my laptop, in the interest of speed, offers me a chance to clear great big everythings at once. After all, how would I know, one by one, what's sitting there months later and not completely cleared, or worse, connected to three dozen other unknown sources - for better or worse. I mean, if it's email, I can clear by category or individual message, quite easily. I just need to remember to check SPAM because sometimes my computer is really stupid on how it assigns things there. If you are a good friend with a long list of people you send good jokes to, it decides on its own that I didn't really want to hear from you. But it's incapable of figuring out that all the messages from a good friend who died three years ago are attempts at corrupting my system. Not only had she died but she is no longer sending photos to anybody... unless I'm really wrong about what happens after cremation! Just to make it a teensy bit more challenging, I also get supposed photos from one of my kids, which still have to be sent to spam unopened. He never takes photos, much less sends them. Those were a surprise the first time, but a totally weird-ass origin tipped me off before I opened what I supposedly needed to in order to view the "photos".

Once my laptop stopped letting me have good access to a favorite few sites, it was time to clear stuff off. My laptop gave me a quick three choices: history, cookies, or cache. You know what happens when you try to call the sure-fire person who could tell me which to delete and which to rethink before doing so, and they don't answer the phone? A couple moments thought later, and I clicked "yes" on all three. 

It worked! 

There was one little catch, however. Places where I needed to log in refused to recognize me. Oops.... was that the Cookies? Cache? Or History? Luckily the financial sites (where I needed to keep regular track of balances) I'd had set to require a full log-in every time. I remembered those from daily use, though some days better than others. But others, less financially sensitive, I relied on to just be there when I clicked. A third category, like various kinds of weather reports, needed no special access, just open and navigate. The whole of one site shows fire smoke for the continent, for one example, and just zoom around. Same with the lightening map. My road map site only asks for a location to display, whether a full state or some building, not caring who I am or why I need to know.

Lucky for me, I've been writing down my log-ins over the years, especially when they change. I'd gotten a bit coy with some of them, like making references to stuff I was sure I'd remember that nobody else could figure out. After ten-plus years and changes in passwords, you know what happens, right? Ever reference "dog's name" and wonder looking back which dog it was at that time? Some of those rescue dogs had fairly short lives, a big reason they were still waiting for homes.  Just note, however, if you try to figure out my passwords, that none of them were ever dogs' names. Just giving an example of how to confuse oneself. Good thing I never tried cat's names, since some of those I can't recall myself despite a clear image of the face/fur patttern, while I'm still pretty good with the dogs many years later. 

Earlier this week I was ordering something online, and was going to use PayPal. Usually when I open the link they send me a notice that they recognize my computer. Oops. Uhhhh..... what was that again? Oh, I got cutsey with that one? Fine, I'll switch directly to one of my cards instead. 

I wanted to add a couple shows to the YouTube TV lineup. We're on a family member's plan. When it got installed, I wrote down everything! All 4 lines of "everything"! Now I have a call in to that person asking which of those four lines I need in order to get back on. I haven't even gotten to BritBox yet, and that's a different person. I'll wait till after the Olympics, I guess.  Besides, Steve handles the cable for the TV. I've gotten as far, on occasion, as pulling out the plug, counting to 5, and replugging.  More than that, it's his problem.

Sick Of Winter Yet? #6

If you're reading these in numerical order, you might be waiting for the story behind why we stopped one blue agave from blooming. This is it.

Agaves, as already noted, have a well-earned reputation for keeping you at a distance, even worse than cacti, except for cholla. If there is one exception, it is the octopus agave. The leaves are smooth, and aside from the very tip of each leaf, don't stab you. They're even easier to deal with if, like me, you take an ordinary garden clippers and trim off the last half inch of each leaf spike. It won't grow back, and even if you bump into it after that, you'll barely get the meerest scratch, and then only if you work hard at it. 

I decided I had to plant one, and placed it at the front corner of the house, close to the wall. It thrived there, since even under the eave, there was no gutter to defer the rare rain, so whatever fell watered it well. It was a beauty.  In a short time it started its own flowering stalk.

 

 

An unfortunate effect of its location was the stalk grew up into the eaves, trying to shoot through them.

This started a week's tug of war with the top of the stalk: pull, check for movement, check for progress, check for house damage. Repeat. Repeat again. Still again. But don't! break! the stalk !

Once freed from under the roof, it thrived, kept growing, and started loading up in tiny flowers.

 In turn, the flowers attracted the local bees, who loaded up on pollen.

Lots and lots of bees,  for several days. That corner of the house was humming!

We had been expecting seed pods. Once the flower petals dropped, baby plants replaced them instead.

The plants grew, filled in, and suddenly we realized we had some work ahead of us! We had plants needing homes! LOTS OF HOMES! My son Rich put an ad for us in a neighborhood online location where one can sell, trade, even give away whatever. We used it previously to divest of a bunch of X-mas tree stuff we no longer wanted, free to a good home, or an organization who'd find it all good homes. In this case, we invited people to pluck off their own plants as wanted, free. We also invited anybody with ambition (and probably a business) to come over and cut the entire stalk and remove all of them. We had several phone calls for more info, some asking for care tips, easily given.

I had already plucked a couple dozen babies off the stalk, setting them on a wide window ledge in plastic 3 ounce cups of water. They quickly grew roots, went into potting soil in peat pots, in turn got  set into thin aluminum baking pans converted for the purpose, where they could go back outside in sun and be evenly watered from the bottom. Some of those I shared with friends for their yards, depending on their own green or brown thumbs. Some I planted in our yard after they were well rooted.

 One day I stepped out front and noticed somebody had come by quietly and taken us at our word that they were welcome to the stalk and contents. I wished them the best of luck in growing them. We'd had fun.

Being busy with the new "octo-babies", the remains of the old plant were ignored for a few weeks. As predicted, stalk and leaves died . We finally made plans to dig the remainder out, asking Rich for the favor of doing the work. Instead he called me out, having news. There was new growth in the bottom! A few fresh green leaves were poking out beneath the dead leaves.  We still had a nice octopus agave, or would very soon, once the dead was removed. Instructions changed, and the new growth thrived, The babies which were planted got ignored during our snowbirding northern vacation, despite promises before we left for regular watering. By the time we sold the house, we had "only" four new healthy ones in the back yard, still a good result for a favorite plant after a minimum of work.

Note the fat plant behind the octopus agave along the house is one of our large blue agaves I showed in the last episode. After photos of where this octopus ended up and knowing what was required to do in order to avoid damage to the house, but the next time with a real stabber of a plant, I hope you'll understand better why we cut that flowering stalk. Besides, I was informed it produced seeds, not plants, and those really are a lot of work!

Sick Of Winter yet? #5

It's time to talk agaves. There were some interesting ones in both our yard and the general neighborhood. Shapes can be spread out or a tight ball of leaves, but agaves are defined by sharply pointed leaf tips. Some  have sharply jagged leaf edges that rip the unwary, others are more well behaved. Colors for leaves mostly are either green, or blue. Flowers appear from a stalk coming up from the plant's center, and can cover a single pole or be on pads that branch out in ascending tiers to the top. Flowering usually marks the death of the plant. With each variety, what you think you know offers exceptions, except for that sharp tip. With all the possible variety, coupled with tolerance for desert conditions, they are a very popular landscaping plant. Other people farm specific ones to produce tequila.

The one I first fell in love with was across the street. It started as a large bunch of pointy green and sharp leaves near their driveway, about 3 feet out in every direction. One day it started sending up a stalk. It grew higher. Then higher. Perhaps ten feet up the stalk started branching, each branch horizontal, growing its own flat pad of blossom buds at the end.

The thing was, every bud was brilliant red!

It was so spectacular, and so rare, we had traffic stopping just to take pictures of it. I actually had to be careful of them when I went across the street to take my own pictures! The effrontery!

As blooming progressed, buds started to open, starting from the bottom branches up to the top by the end of a couple weeks. Red gave way to yellow.

 A careful look to the left side of the blooming stalk may look dusty, but it shows some of the thousands of tiny flying bugs swarming the open petals. I had to enlarge this photo enough that the other side of the picture didn't fit the formatted space and needed to be cropped.

It took about a month for all the excitement to die down. The owners had the whole plant dug out and removed. As far as I could tell, no care was taken to allow seed formation so more of these could be produced. I never saw another like this in the years we were down there.

It is a common flowering form for agaves. Only once did I see one like this that only sent a flowering stalk up about 6 feet.

Note how straight and green the leaves are that this short one springs out of.

Compare that to this one in our yard. Its leaf shape is broader, with totally nasty red curved barbs along the edges and viciously long and sharp  tips on blue leaves. A normally self-respecting person does not get too friendly with this fellow, popular as it is in landscaping for its large size and very blue leaves. Each leaf leaves it's imprint on its neighbor as they grow, separate, and spread out, adding interest to the plants.

When this one decided to send up its stalk, it was very thick and sturdy, and abandoned its blue for a more interesting palette, even as it maintained long sharp defenses. We didn't allow this one to bloom. It turned out it was planted too close to the house and would have run into the roof eaves. Our discovery of what happens then is another story.

Sick Of Winter Yet? #4

 There are a lot of tree varieties in the Arizona desert, whether natives or imports. Probably the most well known is the saguaro, now protected due both to its long slow life cycle, and its unique shape from arms. There are a lot visible in the Phoenix greater metro area. Some were likely "stolen" from surrounding desert before protection (for the most part?), and others permitted for movement when a river was damned to allow the creation of Lake Pleasant. Flooding would have killed all cacti in the area, so people were allowed to go in and remove them for replanting. Back when my parents were snowbirds down there, it was happening, so we drove out to the site to see what was up. Nothing appealed to them for digging up. Now, driving around the metro, many are still visible and healthy in the urban landscape, along with many other cacti varieties.

They bloom in the heat of summer, blossoms emerging from the top, with birds often taking advantage of a less prickly perch from the height. Others can carve out a hole in the side of the main trunk for nesting.The plant then fortifies the area around that incursion, behind the green covering,  making a solid chamber holding the nest secure. Water continues flowing through the green.

 In recent years the increasing heat is taking a toll even on them. Down at the west corner of our block we were surprised by one having toppled overnight. So, no doubt, was the homeowner whose car was trapped in his garage for nearly a month. The saguaros are tremendously heavy, as well as thoroughly spiny, and  it takes a special crew to remove a toppled one. You don't just drive over or around it. I would guess one might look for somebody who values the downed plant and it's unique skeleton ribs who might take it off your hands at less or no cost. Or maybe it's difficult finding the right crew... and price.

A couple years later, on the other end of our block, some new resident "required" different landscaping. They cleared off the site, which required a crew of four to topple this old saguaro. Of course half of the street was blocked for hours. Maybe the arms weren't weird enough to please them. Perhaps they really really "needed"  a low patch of prickly pear on that corner with the fine spines that worm their way into your skin and hang out for days before you can figure out how to shed them. The new look is boring and bland. I don't think I have forgiven these owners for the destruction yet.

Sick Of Winter Yet? #3

 There are a lot of photo files to sort through, over 4,000 currently in my laptop library, more on various thumb drives. Thumbnails need to be sorted for themes, and by the time 50 or so wind up on working desktop space, even once I change the name from a number, it's a jumble. So these will keep coming as time and patience allow.  (Sure, now I warn you!)

This funny faced blossom is not what one usually sees with this plant. It's such a tiny bit of a vine which quickly covers an entire fence and blooms off and on through the year.

This mass of color is what usually catches the eye. The white parts are subtle and need a close up, which then enable you to see the other fertile parts of you are willing to pay attention. This was a gift from the neighbor, rooted on their side of the fence, pruned into submission on ours.

Eventually the bouganvilla goes into full blooming mode and looks like this... before starting over again. I never tired of the colors or the work encouraging them.

There are many less tender plants around Phoenix with interesting colors. One from the front yard which I planted early after we moved in is called the red yucca. The name is a misnomer, as the leaves are not spine tipped, nor red, and is from the asparagus family. No, I wouldn't try eating it.

Most of the year it looks like this, often sporting old seed pods that nobody cleaned off.  Yawwnnnnn.

It sends up tall blossoming stems, often over two dozen flowering stalks a season. Pink buds open into yellow flowers, tiny enough that trying to capture the whole negates all the details.

Each fertilized blossom creates a hard seed pod with enough combined weight to bend the long stems, the way this one leans out over the driveway. Eventually the pods dry, open, and drop a multitude of hard black seeds all over. I never see new plants from those locations, so they must need something from either the processes of weather that the Arizona desert lacks, or traveling through something's digestive system to spread to new locations.

Lots of plants down there there produce hard round pods. This one is a tree, with blossoms better described as beige lace. We were usually north at blooming time, or without a convenient camera, when this bloomed in the neighbor's front yard. This is an unidentified variety of palm tree, about 12 feet tall when this was taken, but I've never seen anything remotely edible looking  emerge from it. They did have a yard maintenance company clean up while they returned to Canada, so they had no clue either. Typical palm tree care involved cutting the tops way back. I only ever saw one blooming or fruiting the year we stayed south for covid. I'm only guessing these were hard, since I'm not that tall.

Sick Of Winter Yet? #2

 Perhaps you're tired of white upon white upon white. Sure, it can be spectacular. But for months on end? Trapping you in a world of blaahhh, waiting for even a glimpse of color. It's especially dull after living where color is always present.

Every sunset seems full of color. This is a typical shot. If you are up and peek out early enough, you can even see gorgeous sunrises, but one of the joys of retirement is sleeping in, if that suits you. It did us.

Inside the back fence, skies take a backseat to a Mexican Bird of Paradise. Properly pruned, it gets bushier and more brilliant every year.

If you wish more variety, a similar but larger plant is a local favorite. It's called a bird of paradise, but isn't. I tried for one of these, above, looked it up, went to garden centers, and found a lot of blank faces. The formerly reliable place insisted what they gave me was  what  asked for, but the blah yellow with sparse petals didn't appeal.

Another common flower, the lantana has variations from yellow through pink through lavender, often on the same plant. This is a neighbor's. We removed one when we moved in, due to location and thorns, but later discovered a volunteer in a more out-of-the-way spot and started tending it.

Trees can be spectacular too. This is one of the first of those I planted, after noting the back hard had 3 citrus trees removed before we even saw the place. It was a bank repo, and they chose not to water thirsty plants.  This is a desert willow, and while needing water its first year, it shoots down deep roots and thrives with minimal attention. It also provides great shade in a few years. Note the abundance of buds waiting their turn to bloom, then picture covering the whole tree with these clumps.

If you like purple, this tree gives a show in the spring. I never did manage to name it, which probably means it's an import, like many other landscaping plants. It seems to be something one person plants, the next sees it a few years later and puts their own in, and three more repeat that in a few more years. Then you can go miles without seeing one. The bloom is brief, and mostly after the snowbirds head north. It's worth finding a parking spot to shoot.

The logistics of that are simple, spelled $$$. Most snowbirds have their primary residence in a northern state, and deal with homeowners rates on their property tax. They have to spend the majority of their time up north in order to get a discount. w\Wherever they live in the south, they either rent, or own something much less expensive.  this means they miss half the year in the Phoenix area, and probably have never seen a thermometer registering 123 degrees F. On the other hand, we sold the northern house, bought something less expensive in the south for our primary residence, and spent 9 months there for our property tax discount. Summers in Minnesota were a great time to see the grand kids while they were out of school. Also, of course, a great time not to air condition the AZ house.

Sick Of Winter Yet? #1

 I don't know about the rest of you. Perhaps you love to ski or skate or go ice fishing. Maybe you just hate the heat. I mean, I can get that. This thermometer was accurate when we were in Sun City, and I was impressed enough to immortalize it, right before heading back into the air conditioning!.

But after all, we did spend our winters down there to get out of the cold. And we've had more than enough snow and ice and cold this winter to bring on a bout of nostalgia for those good old days. This was one of the best!

                                

We went down as a committed couple. Covid came along, we reexamined our priorities, and held an official, legal wedding, covid-safe, in our carport, social distancing and all for the 5 people there. This is the "after" shot, both of us holding a Maricopa County wedding license, shot by one of our witnesses and a best friend, Joan Kroll. Our anniversary comes up in a few days.

The spots of orange behind us is a plant called Orange Bells. When we moved in, one of our projects was to remove the water -thirsty plant in that desert yard, and replace them with more heat and drought tolerant ones.

This is a close up shot of a branch.

We weren't the only ones who appreciated the blooms. Hummers were all over the place, so long as a steady supply of food was available.

This little one was a bit too optimistic. The cage it hovered over did have a plant in it, but no blossoms yet.

In contrast, the Phoenix Botanical Gardens had a year-round supply of food for them.