Tag Archive | apricot tree

Narratology

*Biko enjoys supplemental snacks under the sprinkler this morning.*

I learned this word today, this field of study, watching Three Thousand Years of Longing, a movie recommended awhile ago that just crossed my radar again. In short, narratology is the study of story. The film is a mesmerizing story of story and love starring Tilda Swinton as a narratologist and Iris Elba as a djinn. I watched another movie this afternoon, Marcel the Shell with Shoes On, an utterly charming fictional documentary. If you don’t yet know Marcel the Shell you’d better look him up. Both these stories, at opposite ends of several spectrums, are about the longing for connection. Connection was the value of the day on Thursday, and I’ve been pondering it ever since. I’m grateful for a couple of meaningful conversations about connection and the arc of personal stories. After a rough week, I’m grateful for a day spent wallowing in narratology.

The apricot tree is loaded, and I may start harvesting tomorrow. Though the fruits are still hard, they should ripen well off the tree at this point, and if I wait much longer the birds will begin to demolish them.

Wren and I choose to relax in our different ways.

My way was a new cocktail called Jasmine. I subbed Triple Sec for Cointreau, and Aperol for Campari, and added a vanilla sugar rim. So simple, so delicious.

Jasmine
1½ oz. gin 
¾ oz. lemon juice 
¼ ounce Cointreau 
¼ ounce Campari 
Step 1
Combine all ingredients except the garnish in a cocktail shaker half-filled with ice. Shake until chilled, about 15 seconds. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass.
Step 2
Garnish with the lemon twist.

Gratitude Practice

May2

I love how tulips close up at night, and open with the sun. I was up and out early enough to catch these gorgeous tulips before they opened, and back out later to enjoy their sunny insides. Wish I could remember what variety they are, but maybe I’ll find the receipt for them one day.

*Of all the jonquils I’ve planted only one has bloomed so far.*

I’m grateful for a full day of gratitude practice. For the nice internet repair guy who came and fixed my connection for real, finally; he said there’s still a lot of trouble since the lightning strike more than two weeks ago, but he thinks he got my system squared away. For the kind personnel at the clinic where I spent the early afternoon getting my second shingles shot (for shingles shots), and annual physical. For coming home to a good little dog who leapt and bounced for a few minutes then quickly calmed down. For a hot shower, and a talk and meditation with one of the Dalai Lama’s right hand monks, Thupten Jinpa: Connecting with Purpose & Joy in Everyday Life. For a wonderful zoom with a bunch of women exploring sustainable end-of-life options, hosted by Natural Transitions and featuring Mallory McDuff, author of Our Last Best Act discussing her reasons for and research into alternatives to standard burial.

And I’m grateful for a quiet evening savoring the sky, birdsong, and flowering trees. I got lucky with this shot of the clouds to the north, and this of the apricot sky south beyond the apricot tree.

Citizen Science

Mar16

*Overnight, rain, ice, then a light snow frosted the apricot tree.*

*Life’s simple pleasures: the cheese sandwich*

I’m grateful for the opportunity to participate in a citizen science project with the Michael J. Fox Foundation, by signing up for the Parkinson’s Progression Markers Initiative. There are enough categories that anyone can do it. I registered in ‘a certain age’ group with no symptoms or diagnosis; my brother who’s been recently diagnosed registered in the ‘anyone 18+’ group. He’s doing great with medication. There’s also a category for people diagnosed with Parkinson’s but not yet taking medication. There appears to be a link between loss of smell and certain degenerative brain diseases.

This study involves a ‘smell identification test’ which they mail to you, along with a pencil. You get four booklets with ten scratch n’ sniff patches in each book, use the pencil to scratch the patch, and then identify the smell to the best of your ability. Some of these were easy and a lot of them were hard. Kind of smelled like one thing, kind of like another, sometimes not like any of the options. But you have to fill them all in, so you take your best guess.

It was really fun, but awareness of chemical scent residue lingered in my nose for hours, even after a brisk walk up the driveway in driving wind. I was glad it was trash day, and pitched the booklets in the garbage can once I had entered the data online. It was very thorough, leaving no room for error, going through each page of each booklet one at a time, and then checking your answers at the end of each booklet. It felt good to contribute to this research to try “to learn more about how brain disease starts and changes and how to stop it.”

I won’t ever see the results of my test, so I won’t know whether that one patch was supposed to smell like watermelon or motor oil, cloves or apple. But I do think that my sniffer is in pretty good shape, as almost all of the patches smelled like something that was on the multiple choice list. I encourage you to check it out, have some fun, and contribute to this admirable effort sponsored by an admirable foundation started by an admirable and courageous man.

Good Work

Oct18

Grateful I got the iris beds finished today, enjoying the digging, separating, and replanting as yellow apricot leaves drifted down around me and two little dogs kept good company.

Creative Mind

Aug5

*Another walk to the canyon this morning. She’s getting the hang of it.*

*And then with morning coffee, we all sat out in the shade of the apricot tree…*

After lunch, while the others were resting, I set to work on the drapes in earnest. I chose the macaw panel to start to finish, and pulled out all the appliqués I’ve already cut, and the fabrics I cut them from to cut some more; then sorted them to split frogs and lizards evenly among the remaining panels. I got a few more butterflies and bugs cut out, and will finishing laying out this panel tomorrow, and begin sewing! I’m so grateful to finally have time to dig in to this project. I can’t believe it’s been packed away for so many years, years I thought I always had something more important to do…

This morning I dreamed again about art. Once again I was in a spacious gallery, surrounded by oversized artwork. It was Mary’s gallery, and most of the work was hers. I realized that I was supposed to have my art there to hang in the show that was opening in a couple of hours, but not only had I forgotten to bring it, I wasn’t close to finishing it. As I looked behind the scenes and saw racks and racks and walls full of Mary’s giant art, I insisted that we hang her work instead. Then ensued a couple of hours of frantic and fruitless efforts to select and hang her work, but I never got anything done except to wander in wonder among the beautiful paintings. One of these days I’m going to remember while I’m dreaming to save some of the amazing images that my subconscious conjures. I’m grateful for my creative mind and for all others. Where does creativity come from?

*Closeup of the macaw, who’s been patiently waiting my attention for too long…*

…and of this blue snake. It’s been so long since I made it that I don’t remember exactly which blue snake it is. There are more blue snakes in the world than you would imagine, from pythons to pit vipers, some naturally colored blue and others genetically engineered. Google it and see! My guess is this is a blue tree python, based on the shape of the head, and since I already have an eyelash viper (and this snake clearly lacks the telltale ‘eyelashes.’)

*I’m grateful that the Aji crystal peppers are forming, and most of the other pepper varieties are finally coming on.*

*As I pruned some tomato plants this evening, I gasped in delight to see underneath the dense leaves I was trimming the first ripe tomato!*

*And I’m grateful that I have my work cut out for me tomorrow, cooking and freezing beans, and maybe making and eggplant parmigiana to have for dinner and freeze leftovers for deep winter.*

A Quiet Sunday

Oct31

I’m grateful for a quiet Sunday, as I often am. Life outside the house went on as usual, with the handsome buck who’s been grazing around for a few days visiting the apricot tree, sandhill cranes narrating overhead their migration south, high clouds providing light cover; magpies flocking through the yarden, and thousands of tiny lives being lived under the ground, in bark, in leaves, in trees, in grasses. Late morning Stellar gathered energy and we walked him out to his favorite tree. He lay around for awhile as I gathered seeds from marigolds, lettuce, calendula, fennel, radishes, and more, to save for late winter and spring planting. We both enjoyed time outside. When he was ready, we came back inside and went about our day, he resting and watching as I worked, wrote, laundered, tidied, cleaned, made food for us, napped beside him, did the crossword, read. I’m grateful for adapting to the flow of circumstance, dwelling deeply in the present. I’m grateful for a quiet Sunday much like any other in our years together, now winding down toward bedtime. Simple pleasures, no expectations, no regrets.

*Stellar at noon today, resting under his favorite tree.*

*Stellar at five with his little friend Badger.*

A New Camera

Jul31

Grateful for this beautiful boy, and the new camera that made this lovely portrait.

It arrived yesterday, just an hour too late to capture the newly fledged phoebes. After a busy day, I took it out to play this evening, just fooling around with the zoom, without even learning the thousand and one functions and settings. I’m grateful for the means to purchase this amazing camera, grateful for the technology that allows me to have far more ‘film’ than time so I can shoot to my heart’s content and throw away a thousand images to save one good one. I’m grateful for B&H Photo in NYC for their help and expertise whenever I need new camera gear, and grateful to JT for turning me on to them. Following the gratitude trail, I’m grateful for the countless individuals who designed, experimented, and constructed for many decades to create this camera, and for the materials, and for the countless people who mined and melted and melded those raw materials into this astounding piece of equipment; and for the FedEx lady who delivered it a scant 27 hours after I ordered it, and for all the human ingenuity and labor, and the transportation and infrastructure, that allowed that. It’s an amazing world, despite the tragedies perpetrated by our species.

I bought the camera with a 24-240mm zoom, not the best lens available but at a price I could afford: a pretty decent shot of the mountains at 240, so I’m optimistic about shooting hummingbirds with it tomorrow.

And finally, I’m grateful for the successful fledging yesterday of all four phoebe chicks in the second clutch. The first couple left the nest Thursday and went back in overnight. When I went out Friday morning, all four were snuggled together on the ladder, and by mid-afternoon (an hour before the camera arrived) they had all flown into the woods with their parents. This evening, I heard an adult back out on the east side of the house. I dursn’t hope…

Apricot Tree

Jul14

A resilient survivor, this apricot tree! She suffered the same brutal freeze last October as the almond tree who died, and the peach tree who lost half her limbs, and the desert willow, who has emerged finally this summer like a Dr. Seuss tree. The apricot tree simply curtailed her blossoms and turned her attention to her leaves, filling out beautifully.

And not only her leaves! She did make maybe a tenth of the blossoms as last year, maybe fewer, and now has some nice fat fruits. In the whole canopy, though, this is the densest concentration I found. But most of them are still green, and smaller, so she could surprise me. I doubt I’ll be making jam; and the Raspberry Queen down in Hotchkiss has only harvested a cup or two of berries from her prolific patch. Indeed, the fruit trees and shrubs have suffered this past year, from erratic weather in this new climate of extremes.

Today I’m grateful for the first few apricots, ripening on the resilient tree.

Apricot Tree

Mar24

I’m grateful I got to have this beautiful creature in my life, if only for five years. I still miss him terribly, but pictures bring back the joy of his soft fur under my hands, his cold nose nuzzling my armpit at bedtime, his lively conversation, and his bright presence everywhere at once in the house and yard. Two summers ago the apricot tree was loaded, and last year too. This year, we expect a light crop, if any.

I’m grateful for the Apricot Tree, and for neighbor Fred who has been pruning it every spring for as long as I can remember. I’m grateful for the tender attention he gives this tree, bringing his ladders, loppers, and pruners, and shaping the tree beautifully with his expertise. It took several years after I planted it for the tree to fruit, and for the next few years while I was in charge the most it ever grew was half a dozen apricots. Once Fred took over, fruits increased year after year, finally yielding more than forty pounds each of the past couple of years. After last fall’s sudden killing freeze, I’m grateful that the tree is even alive. We don’t know yet whether any fruit buds survived, and expect only a light crop if any. He checked out and lightly pruned the peach and crabapple trees, too, and they’re both okay. This will surely be a low fruit year in the valley, but the trees are resilient, and we can hope for more good years in the future, if the extremes of climate chaos don’t kill them first. We’ll know more later.

Morning Rounds

let me remember to be grateful every living moment of every day

Tag Archive | apricot tree

Narratology

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Gratitude Practice

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Citizen Science

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Good Work

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Creative Mind

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A Quiet Sunday

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A New Camera

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Apricot Tree

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