A Rose for Oliver

I went out this morning, coffee in hand, to the patio and found that the yellow rose, in bud for weeks, finally bloomed.  And right after that heard that Oliver Sacks died this morning.

A world famous figure, neurologist, writer, all around brilliant man, but also a perennial learner who wasn't above corresponding with the likes of me on a subject he touched on in his book Musicophilia.  When the paperback edition came out, he asked if he could quote me in there, did so, acknowledged me along with much more famous people, and sent me a copy.

What a privilege to be able to touch even briefly on such a life.  I owe him personally, because he took up arms against the notion that people with synaesthesia are in some way lacking, when in fact they are among the super blessed.  Some of my own observations of that phenomenon are what we discussed, and he was among the very few people who did not dismiss them out of hand.

So this rose

and the drawing I made from it today, are for you, Oliver and the work you did, right up to the moment you left us.

Late summer flourish of petunias

I seized the day and went to the garden center to see if there were any petunias to rescue, late in the season, I know, but I tend to have this urge to prolong the flowers.  The petunias I brought home a couple of weeks ago have been very happy, but their neighbors left behind at the center a bit sad looking. I picked out the best looking ones, and got a deal on it, late season.  

And brought them home, stripped off their withered foliage, planted them in new potting soil and they're in place on top of the fence, at least some of them are not yet, since I ran out of steam after a bit.  The established petunias I brought in from the outdoor place, figuring it was time I got to enjoy them, too.  I moved a pot of marigolds and lavender out there instead.

Extreme light contrast defeated my tablet's abilities, but you get the gist. The marigolds and other plants on top of the fence are looking tired and a bit ragged, so I put them down on the ground in honorable retirement, and now the fence looks cheerful again.

 
I got the natural version of a standing o as I worked on this - while I was still potting up the new petunias, a hummingbird clearwing moth started work busily on them, then once in place on the fence,  a pair of Carolina wrens, a monarch butterfly, a cabbage white and Mrs. Cardinal showed up to play among them.  My nature preserve seems to be doing well.

Since I was on a roll, the antibiotics are kicking in, feeling better, I dashed off a little drawing of the end pot of pink petunias, pilot pen oh, alliteration, on Bristol, and at that point sanity overtook me and I came indoors.
 
The heat index was nearly 100F.  so it was time to stop and come in to brag about what I did. And to remember that I'm still getting well, not totally there yet, and I should sit and read a good mystery.

My genius handyman artist friend is going to come over later and as he put it, "see what's up" with my shower faucet, meaning probably fix it in about 30 seconds.

Signs of life returning

I was felled a few days ago with what turns out to be two things at once, I got lucky, a tmj flareup, first I ever had, and strep throat, again first I ever had. Both of these things cause wild pain in your throat and jaw.  I will draw a veil over the last couple of days, the impossibility of sleeping at all with that level of pain in your throat, gah, and the higher pain level that happens when you try to swallow.  And since I am now safely onto antibiotics and various other things my doctor rxed, I'm hoping for better days.  

I'm glad I insisted that I thought I had strep (having studied on the internet at 4 a.m.) despite the nurse and doctor and assistant all assuring me it was unlikely in adults.  But Dr V. swabbed my throat anyway, and did a rapid test.  Called me back half an hour later to say, well, I got a surprise, you do have strep.  

At this point things is a bit better, still wobbly, but that's okay, it's moving in the right direction.

To prove it, I got back into doing a little drawing for #drawingaugust, namely the little native cherry sapling I planted in the spring for the wildlife, and to succeed my old cherry when she finally falls down.  Glad my hand has stopped wobbling enough to do this! click to see better.

But alas, I'm infectious, so I have to postpone being around people for a few days, out of social responsibility. That includes asking my friend next door to help me with the shower faucet.

This is one of those simple if you can manage it things:  I noticed that the shower was only going to lukewarm, wondered if my water heater was giving out, but the other shower and various places for water were all heating nicely.  

So I got brave and popped off the front plate of the faucet, unscrewed the handle, praying water wouldn't gush out, and found that the inside of it was broken, the piece lying in there.  No wonder it wasn't turning.  Sent away for a replacement, and yesterday attempted to install it.  Well, when you're running a fever, and generally well under the weather, it's probably not a good time to do this.

So I installed it once, and when I pulled it out to start the water, it came right off in my hand. Oh.  Did it again, and now it worked lovely, changing temps just as needed, and when I went to push it back in to turn off the water, it wouldn't turn off.  Removed the tap and went in search of a tool to bang on the stem to turn it off.  Which worked, but isn't a good method for daily use.

At this point I think I've reached my level of 1. patience and 2. ability to do a simple task.  So when I feel better I'll ask G. to fix it, which he will do in thirty seconds, laughing the whole time.  Anyway, I do have another shower to use. 

And that's the big dramatic news chez Liz this morning.