It started out as an ambitious day. I had to get up and out early for another (fasting) blood draw to see how the recently changed doses of meds were doing: too much? too little? Or a Goldilocks version of just right?
Of course, when I started the car, the low tire light came on. They weren't that flat, and I'd just been through putting more air in them, so I resolved to look for a tire store on the way home. WalMart has closed all its automotive work departments (covid), so I needed to get actual new tires at a likely not-so-welcome price. I already knew they needed to be replaced, but had been putting it off due to property taxes, car license renewal, new dog, etc. I actually passed a tires place on my way to the doctor, but by the time I got out of there, the line for tires was about 8 cars long. I told myself this particular errand could wait till tomorrow.
After finally being allowed to eat, now that the blood draw was done, I had breakfast and returned home to plant some more of the baby octopus agaves. Much of what was newly planted already or being rescued from this summer's baking needed watering, so that got done as well. But the process reminded me that I had promised myself I was going to get a yellow version of what is called down here a Mexican bird of paradise. Caesalpinia mexicana if you want to look it up. I have the orange one - it came with the house - but the yellow is showier. And October is a great planting month if you want to spend a summer away and leave plants pretty well accustomed to the desert by then. That gives them 8 months.
A local nursery - Moon Valley - has a branch also on my route to and from the doctor's office. I looked them up from home, called, and asked whether they had my plant in a small size for a modest price. Yep. Off I went. It turned into my kind of a nightmare. The site is huge, no indication of what is where, and I didn't even know what the foliage of my plant looked like. There were helpers around, and I spied one at a cash register, ringing one customer up, with another couple in line. I decided to make myself #3. That's when the cash register guy vanished, informing me he'd be right back in two minutes, after arranging assistance for the couple ahead of me. He never returned. (I looked for a deep sinkhole in the parking lot as I was leaving, wanting to be sure I didn't also vanish into one, but didn't find any.) There was no place to sit, the sun was hot, my legs had already been used enough, and I watched as a plethora of new customers walked in and immediately received the attention of other staff while I was completely ignored.
After a full twenty minutes of that, I said "To heck with this!" - literally - and returned to my car, where I called the nursery I was now sitting outside of, got passed from unanswered phone to unanswered phone while a recording asked me to be patient each time, finally asking me to leave a message. Boy, did I! In case they care, they now know exactly why they lost a customer who knew exactly what she was going to buy, and was now going to buy it elsewhere.
I have fond memories of another garden center, not quite so local, where I've shopped before, those few times we didn't get plants at the Desert Botanical Gardens semi-annual plant sales. It's called Summerwinds, and is a ways east on Bell Road. However, they have a large lot, and their entrance is organized so that you go in past the cash register where they have three cashiers assisting customers speedily through their purchases. By the time I walked up to them, all were available to be asked how I could get help. Immediately a young man was flagged down, we got a flatbed type cart, and he took me to the exact spot where my bird of paradise was waiting. He even picked out of the lineup the one with the best shape. By then I remembered I had wanted some aloe vera plants which bloom with orange blossoms rather than what my yard is already full of, the yellow flowering ones. He knew exactly where those were also, though the exact variety I wanted was harder to find. While he looked in one direction, I found two packed-full pots on the next table. Their version is a variety called Safari Rose Aloe. The tag informs me I can text #----- to ----- for more information. If I texted, of course. Luckily, it's an aloe. I'm going to treat it like ... an aloe. They like me. And rabbits hate them! Win-win.
They are no longer in the store.
He stuck around until I had paid for them, then assisted me in getting them into the car, for which I thanked him sincerely. During our walk to each of the plants' locations, we'd had a chat about my earlier experience at Moon Valley. He agreed that they were terrible. Not only was the service nonexistent, but it turned out that the bird of paradise here at Summerwinds was $10 cheaper!
Tomorrow I'm getting up early and doing some more planting. Likely Saturday as well. You have to soak the ground in order to get anything through it, from a stake to a shovel, and it advances in about 3" depth increments. That's fine for the little pots of agave babies, but now we're talking dirt by the gallons!
I had just enough energy this afternoon, once I sat for a good while, to cut chicken wire cages removed from well established plants, now needing more room for growth and past the yummy-for-rabbits stage, into half sizes for the short plants remaining to be planted, with one tall and wide cage left for the bird of paradise. The number of cages and plants needing them now match exactly!
So, where's the ibuprofin?
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