Yesterday I was called on by the 6 year old next door and her Poppop to minister to an injured butterfly. Big pieces missing from its wings as a result of an unfortunate attempt to usher him out of the car. Cabbage white. The butterfly. The car's a black Honda.
I suggested she lay him on the grass quietly, to rest. I suspected the rest would be permanent, but they just wanted to do something, you know how it is.
Indoors more promising signs. When I finally got around to separating the aloe plant after months of postponement largely because it was so misshapen, I had partial success.
This part has done very well in the kitchen
See the sturdy new shoots, growing well despite their origins. I can cut and discard the original gnarly bits. Very good outcome. I often think plants do very well despite us rather than because of our ministrations.
And did you know frozen blueberries (also seedless grapes if you like grapes) work just like candy with your breakfast pancakes? Just sayin.
Remember Cesar Chavez and his long fight for the vineyard workers against the abuses of big ag in the form of the growers? I joined in the boycott.
It took so long before he and the farmworkers got recognition and improvements in working conditions that by the time the boycott ended, and I'd become educated about the lives of the pickers, I'd lost my taste for grapes.
Handsome Partner loved them and they were one of the foods he could navigate after he lost a lot of use of his hands, so I would buy them for him. Afternoon snack for him with medication was grapes and cheese.
See you never know what tangent I might fly off at in here. Me neither.
