Buddy the Cat

My shingles are almost gone.  However, when it rains it pours.

Buddy, our cat, died the other day. Although he had been really, really ill for a few days and was staying at the vet’s to be rehydrated and treated, it was still unexpected. Death always is for me. It catches me off guard every damn time and never fails to piss me off.

He was his sweet old self one night, begging for treats, waiting for us to get in bed, hissing and growling if T dared to put his arm outside the covers, etc. The next morning he was seriously ill, lying under our bed with the look of death about him. Even with our vet’s best efforts, he never rebounded. Based on his symptoms, it could have been any number of causes.

The night after he died I had a dream about change. First I dreamed I saw his dead body. Then suddenly Buddy the Cat was alive again and with my Mom, his original owner. We took him in 2008 when she went into assisted living where they did not allow pets. I remember we had to pull him out from under her bed and he clawed T’s arm open. Buddy was always a bit anxious and neurotic, as I am. We shared the same mother.

Then, in my dream of change, I was suddenly in my old workplace. There was no one there I knew. All had changed. All was different. I was alone and it was disconcerting. And like dreams always are, I remembered that dreams are about the dreamer. This was a message to me from my self. I had to think about it hard.

Change has always been a trigger for me. Even if I try to ignore my fear of change, my discomfort with loss, they are always there. They do not go away from refusing to feel. I know, I've tried.

Unresolved emotional themes have a life of their own. They come back to haunt us, to try and get our attention in the form of nameless anxiety, depression, and also in archetypal dream figures.

It is odd, this particular fear, since change is the stuff of life. Do we all ultimately fight the same fight? Is it the nature of being human to fear change?  Do I have to become a "*&!@#" zen master to achieve some peace of mind? 'Cause I don't think I have the stamina for it and I certainly do not have the attention span. 

Our lost boy, Buddy the Cat, on our deck in NYS overlooking one of our equally lost perennial beds

Shingles

I have shingles, and I'm not talking about the siding on my house. 

According to the Mayo Clinic:
Shingles is caused by the varicella-zoster virus — the same virus that causes chickenpox. After you've had chickenpox, the virus lies inactive in nerve tissue near your spinal cord and brain. Years later, the virus may reactivate as shingles.

I have a mild case because when I turned 60 my good doctor gave me the shingles vaccine.  That is the magic age healthy people are supposed to get the vaccine.  Getting older seems to be an invitation for the varicella-zoster virus to return.  I wish my body would start consulting with my mind about issuing these age-related invitations. 

My doctor said the vaccine only reduces your chance of getting an outbreak by 50%.  Don't be discouraged though, for those of us who are vaccinated an outbreak isn't nearly as painful or intense as it would be otherwise. I have heard horror stories of how painful a full blown attack of shingles can be, so I am thanking my lucky stars that I got the vaccine.

It usually presents as a small strip of blistered rash on one side of your body.  I know, ick. It often appears on your torso, sometimes on your face. I have it on my right forehead and the top of my scalp. The shingles itch and ache with some nerve pain in my neck just below my ear. FYI it is very bad news if shingles form inside the eye. If you get shingles on your face an eye doctor will examine the eye and apply eye drops that ward off the worst of it. And by the worst of it I mean loss of vision. Scary, especially since my right eye has been swelling up overnight since the outbreak. I wake up each morning looking like a boxer who took it on the eye instead of the chin.

I went to my regular doctor (GP) and then an eye doctor. Helpful tip: if you really need to see a doctor tell the receptionist you think you might have shingles. Both places got me in immediately. The GP said that the shingles medication is only effective if you start taking it within 72 hours of the outbreak. I got in just in the nick of time and I am happily and earnestly taking my medicine 3 times a day for 7 days.

The eye doctor examined my eye and said no shingles in there!  I am so relieved.

He also said because I have shingles now, I only have about a 2.5% chance I will get it again.  I do so like those odds.

An old tree with an extremely odd trunk.  Nature will do what she will.

Tree Houses

Southern live oaks are remarkable trees, the ones you think of when you imagine the Deep South. They are tall, craggy, sprawling trees with Spanish Moss dripping from the sides.

At least one nearby live oak is about 350 years old. It lives where many trees have been cut down recently to make way for a large, upscale housing development just off the bike trail.

Although most of the trees on the land were felled to clear land for houses, developers left this 350 year old tree intact. They put up a sign extolling its virtue. I suppose they want us to think they care about the environment. Sadly, compared to some slash-and-burn developments popping up along the trail, these people actually ARE the environmentally right-on alternative in this area. 

However, unlike the slash-and-burn subdivisions, this development is building big new houses right up to and facing the trail; that is, no privacy fences.

Before you start thinking about how much you hate privacy fences, let me say this. This particular development has a large pond on the property, AND this development is built right alongside Lake Apopka. Considering the number of alligators in that lake and (no doubt) in the pond, I don't think I'd want to live in a house without a protective fence. If you think I'm overreacting, let me just say the Fish and Wildlife people had to move a large alligator off the bike trail in that area just a couple of months ago. For some odd reason alligators are not respectful of private property and think they can go wherever they want... 

AND the developer turned the houses around so the front is facing the trail. The other developments that build along the trail put the back yards up against the trail and then put up fences. Yes, these homeowners can sit on their front porches and watch the bikers ride by a few yards away. Aack!

I miss the shade those felled trees provided. It is super freaking hot and relentlessly sunny down here. I am an overweight oldster huffing and puffing my way up and down the trail. I could use some shade. But I must confess I don't really like people sitting on their porches watching me bike past. I am probably being overly sensitive, but it creeps me out.

I know, I know, as if those people are thinking about me at all! I am not all that interesting unless you enjoy judging chubby older women. Then I can guarantee you I am absolutely fascinating.

I should take that high road and imagine they are cheering me on for biking against the odds. Or, I might consider this an opportunity to practice my retirement goal of not giving a damn what other people think.

Maybe tomorrow. Today I noticed about 5 more houses going up in that development, once again right next to the trail. In a few days the beauty of that parcel of land will be just another memory.

This is the real Florida, not a gated community in sight.  Don't worry, it is at a state park so it can't be developed.  I'm almost sure of it!

Digging Deep: The Blame Game Part II

Today I do not want to read any mean spirited, self-serving, blame the victim, I told you so, I'm better than (you, your country, your religion, your sexuality, your political candidate, your parenting skills) blog or Facebook posts.

Tragedies happen every day. Sometimes they happen because a person runs smack into evil through no fault of their own, sometimes bad things happen simply because a person is in the wrong place at the wrong time, other times tragedy hits because someone made a mistake.

I am no better than anyone else, especially when it comes to making mistakes. I look back at my life and I wish I could go back and be kinder, better, somehow atone for things I did that caused pain to others. Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure I am not perfect and will likely make more mistakes before I die. This makes me more than a little nervous because there seems to be a long line of blamers out there just waiting to kick people when they are down. 

Why is it so important to cast blame when the victims are still reeling from the blow? I wonder if we will ever evolve to the point that our first reaction to tragedy is compassion, and our first action is kindness, regardless of the cause? 

Sometimes you just don't see it coming

Orlando

The massacre at The Pulse nightclub last night took place at a venue about 25 minutes away from where I live.  Am I horrified by how close terrorism has come to my home, my turf, my family?  Yes, I am horrified.  

I am also filled with grief for the beautiful young lives that were lost.  The sorrow I feel for the loss of great potential, and for the pain their loved ones feel this morning is beyond words.  

Am I afraid?  No, I am not afraid.  I am angry. 

Cypress trees on Lake Eola, Downtown Orlando

Accepting Reality?

The month of June ushers in the heat, the humidity, the rains, and hurricane season. It has been very dry for a long, long time, so in some ways I welcome the rainy season. I just hope the pool doesn't overflow...

Last year we lost quite a few new plantings to the summer rains. This spring we took care to plant hardy native plants in the wet areas of the lawn. By the end of the summer we shall see what survives the deluge and what doesn't. I am trying to make peace with Florida, which (when you get away from the housing developments) is a big, beautiful, wild, and altogether primordial place. I am also trying not to become too attached to plants and flowers, knowing that they may not be here for the long term.

As I get older I find myself fine-tuning my attachments to people, too. I dunno, they don't seem to last either.

An old fashioned yellow iris from my gardens up north

The Blame Game

Why is it that when a tragedy occurs the haters circle around the unlucky like vultures, ripping the carcass apart to ascertain blame?  What is wrong with us that we behave in such an unkind way?

Sometimes a tragedy is just a tragedy.  Perhaps we should mind our own business and leave it at that.

The things I saw

Here are some of the old friends I DID manage to see in Upstate New York a few weeks ago.

A proudly magnificent Solomon's Seal

Trillium, with some kind of little bug crawling around the center

Virginia Bluebells, pretty far from Virginia

Lilies of the Valley, you know the Valley I'm talkin' about, the one where you have to walk it by yourself?

Skunk Cabbage (top) and Marsh Marigold (bottom) in the swamp lands

Wild Geraniums, one of my favorite wild flowers

The amazing wild, red Columbine

A debonair Jack in the Pulpit

The Mighty May Apple, as Mother Earth News has referred to her

A pale yellow Primrose, not really all that prim

Peony shoots coming up, always a reassuring sight

The mysterious Hellebore

Freaking Fern Fronds, for cryin' out loud!

And last, but not least, the always hilarious Toad Shade (a variety of Trillium)

Going Back

We made a whirlwind trip to Upstate NY in mid-May. It was the first time we went back since moving to Florida in March 2014. We arrived late Friday and left after lunch on Monday. Absurdly short visit, I know; but T is not a good traveler. I apologize from the heart to those dear friends I was unable to see this time. The guilt and regret I feel is palpable. But this trip had a specific purpose.

Our friend, ShS, died in January and we were unable to go back for her funeral. We specifically planned this May weekend with the old gang to honor her and help her husband process the loss.

Saying goodbye to her was one of the last things we did before leaving NYS over two years ago. She was not sick yet. Still, when I hugged her goodbye at her doorway that cold March day I was overcome with sorrow and didn't want to let go of her. I fought tears as we drove away. It would be an understatement to say I don't usually cry. I am usually steely calm with goodbyes, so Tom asked if I was okay. I told him I had a strong feeling I was never going to see ShS again. It was one of those moments when the future reaches back with fully extended claws to rend your heart with foresight. Spooky.

On a lighter note, while there we went to our favorite Vietnamese restaurant. When I walked in, the waiter immediately remembered me! He also remembered my standard lunch order after all these years. Whatta guy!

His kindness reminded me how we impact everyone we meet. A kind and gracious waiter can make a customer's day. We might remember him/her for the rest of our lives. Relationships take many forms. Make no mistake, we all play a role crafting goodness and light in this world.

Yes, we went to Wegmans. I had a hilarious "moment" with an elderly stranger who was sitting down in the dining area eating an entire Mini Ultimate Chocolate Cake all by her sweet self. As I walked by, I saw the cake and exclaimed "Look, it's one of those cakes!" She heard me and said, "I am just trying to make sure I stay fat." Ha! I'll probably never forget her, either.

Just so you know, we brought a small, empty carry-on suitcase on the plane. Before leaving NYS we filled it up with 3 dozen bagels for our return. The security bag scanner at the airport got a big kick out of it. Six of the bagels were garlic. Now the suitcase will forever smell of garlic. I don't care.

Bagels, ripe for the picking

Heaven on Earth: the produce section at Wegmans

FYI - We are going to be preoccupied with a family wedding this weekend, so I probably won't be checking my or other people's blogs for a few days.  If you send comments I will publish them and respond Monday or Tuesday.  Have a good weekend!

The Big Payoff

It wasn't like I was ever going to have what some people refer to as "a life's work." I spent my adult life working jobs I was only remotely interested in. I made the best of it. I tried to do a good job and I opened myself to the work, whatever that happened to be. Consequently, I also enjoyed myself, probably more than I should have... why not?  I am proud of that, but I knew I was just a cog in that rusty old wheel. It is what it is and it seems the challenge is to accept reality and still find a way to be happy. Or, perhaps the reality is that you have to accept the challenge?

One of the things I appreciate about retirement is that I am able to focus for more than a few seconds on "things." Now if I read a book I can actually think about plot, character development, and nuance. I am once again aware of symbolism. I can even read a poem all the way through and decipher meaning. There were a few stressful years toward the end of my work life when I could not even read the damn newspaper. 

This is what it is like for us regular folks. We endure. We make the best of it for ourselves, our families, our future. We keep our heads above water for as long as we can. Then, if we are lucky, we retire.

A rusted wheel on a bridge overlooking Lake Apopka, still doing its job

Rise and Shine

I have become a morning person. I did not see that coming. In my working years I always woke up early, at 6:10 a.m. to be exact. I did not like getting up early in those days. Perhaps it was because I HAD to get up. I resented having to follow an established schedule. Still, it was the way of the world and I did it for many years. I was happy to have the job, the work, the money, the people who filled my life.

Now I am retired and I still wake up about 6:10 a.m. Now it is my choice to either rise and shine or to turn over and go back to sleep. Rarely do I choose the latter. NEWS FLASH: Early morning is a great pleasure. Who knew?

Sometimes I stay in bed for awhile, awake. When luxuriating in bed is meditative and relaxing it is a lovely way to start the morning. Unfortunately, staying in bed can also become an anxiety fest.  Then it is best to get up and start the day. There are things to do. Buddy the Cat wants to be fed, coffee needs to be made, and the computer wants to be started up. Flowers and vegetable plants must be inspected for overnight growth. More often than not T has already fed the cat and started the coffee. Then I stumble around, looking a sight and trying to find my bearings. No rush, no hurry. I can slowly find my way.

A frog, taking her own sweet time

It's Raining!

After a long, long drought it finally rained yesterday. We were gone this past weekend. We were exhausted when we returned, so we were thrilled not to have to go out in the steaming heat and water our flowers and vegetables. They are well nourished now. After a busy weekend of visiting with old friends, I am well nourished, too. 

When it rains in Florida it REALLY rains. T had to go out about 9:00 p.m. and drain some of the water out of the pool because we were afraid it was going to overflow. This morning it is overcast and the ground is soggy. I imagine it might rain all day.

Walking around in circles

I seem to have a bit of a writer's block.  I sat down to write and spent a good five minutes staring into space.  Oh well.  We are going to be very busy this weekend and I'm trying to relax and organize my thoughts.  FYI, I probably won't have time to check my blog or others until the middle of next week.

T and I have been doing a lot of biking, walking, swimming the past couple weeks.  We've discovered a beautiful walking path surrounding a landscaped pond.  We bike to it and then we walk for at least a mile around and around.  I find that comforting, walking in circles.  I always have.  I'm a daydreamer.  I like to walk fast and think hard.  It is nice not to have to come back down to earth and pay attention to things like stop signs or intersections. 

Walking has been a constant in my life.  I used to walk over my lunch hours when I worked.  I rarely ever stayed in my office or workplace over lunch.  I walked outside in good weather and inside on a large inside track during the bad.  It helped me let go of work-related stress.  Sometimes walking and thinking helped me plan my next move or make sense of the insensible.  It nearly always cleared my head.  

And, of course, you never know what you might see on a walk.  

Here's a photo taken at Leu Gardens in Orlando, Florida.  It is a wonderful, large, urban garden and they often have large scale sculpture exhibitions that change periodically.  I was thrilled to see this on a recent walk:

Spider sculpture on walking path at Leu Gardens

Cute Tomato

Well, if you can believe it I ate our second homegrown tomato of the season this morning. I chopped it up and sprinkled it on a split five grain baguette piece, topped it with sharp cheddar and stuck it in the oven until the bread was toasted and the cheese melted. Yum. It was almost as good as a bagel.

We have a couple of teeny raised beds and we are able to start planting some things in March here in Florida. Since we bought tomato plants instead of starting them from seed, we have a nice head start on the fresh produce.

Our 4 year-old grandson, N, took the actual "first" tomato from the garden earlier this month. He wanted to take it home to Daddy. Unfortunately, his father was unable to eat it because by the time he received it the tomato was mush. It seems N used the tomato as a ball. We live and learn.

Little N is my partner in this year's vegetable gardening adventure. He helped me plant seeds for carrots, beets, snow peas, cilantro, green beans, zucchini, and basil. There was much excitement when the seeds started to grow. He likes to water the beds when he comes over to visit. Then he waters the fence, the shed, the house, and me. He loves the power of the sprayer, but he is still learning to control it. When he holds it in his grubby little hands he becomes a de facto sprinkler system. I love that kid. It is a joy watching him learn new things and make new connections in his little mind. It would be wonderful to have a mind so open and uncluttered again.  

and here is the third tomato of the season, coming right up

Willful Behavior

This morning T and I went to review and sign our wills. Having an appointment outside of the house requires major adjustments to our retirement lifestyle.  Thankfully we live in the Land of Mouse in Central Florida where tourist-casual clothing rules. 

I wore non-denim capris and replaced my usual ratty t-shirt with a black top that enables me to pass as normal.  It is my go-to shirt for trying to pass as normal.  I also wore leather sandals instead of flip-flops.  I put on earrings and a necklace.  I would have worn lipstick but I forgot about the tube that lives in the bottom of my purse. 

Men have it so much easier.  All T had to do was replace his white t-shirt.  In T-land a short sleeved shirt that buttons up the front and has a collar means "dressed-up." 

I would have put my wedding band on, but Florida weather usually makes my fingers swell.  As a result, most days I cannot get my ring on.  Or if I could manage to cram it over my knuckle, I would not be able to get it back off.  Not being able to get my ring off triggers my claustrophobia, so I usually go ring-less.  This morning was no exception.  If the lawyer needs to see a ring on my finger to figure out us two old farts are married, then I guess it will have to be his problem, not mine.

My hair came out of the low, comfortable pony tail I am now used to wearing.  I twisted and pulled it up on the back of my head with a clip.  Now I'll probably go bald from all the pulling and twisting.  It had to be done, though.  Nothing weirds people out like an old woman with long, gray hair.  Ageist crap.  Actually, I might get it all cut off super short this summer.  I don't think I can go through another Florida July or August with long hair.  I would have to find someone trustworthy to cut my hair, though.  You know how that goes.  I'm not sure I am up for the hunt.  Plus, I hate surrendering to bourgeois expectations.  It is a matter of principle.  

Going against the grain

Chocolate Cake

I have been craving the perfect chocolate cake for a couple of months.  I try not to have dessert because I absolutely don't need it, and I also want to eat less sugar.  However, a craving is a craving is a craving.  It seems like the longer I deny myself a pleasure the more I want it.  Something has to be done or I might possibly lose my mind.

The other day I caved and made a cake.  It is good, but it isn't the chocolate cake I wanted.  It just isn't.  It isn't dark or fudgy or dense enough.  It occurred to me that what I really craved was a Wegmans Ultimate Chocolate Cake. 

Wegmans is this amazing grocery chain in the Northeast.  If you've never been to one, you simply cannot imagine. It is so good that when family from the Midwest would come to visit us in Upstate NY we would take them to the State Parks, the gorges, the Finger Lakes, the wineries, the Cornell plantations, AND Wegmans. 

They sell this cake in two different sizes: full size and mini. T and I would buy the mini and it was perfect for two servings for each of us. The problem was it was SO good that my second serving would end up being my breakfast the next morning. The cake I made the other day is not that good. Maybe that's a gauge of excellence for chocolate cake. Do you want to eat it for breakfast?

This morning I searched the internet for the recipe. Turns out it is a secret recipe and not to be found. Probably just as well.

Wegman's Mini Ultimate Chocolate Cake

Cool Jazz and Buddhist Chants

Last night T and I went to hear Wayne Shorter and Herbie Hancock play jazz. In the context of jazz music I am merely trying to be a supportive wife. Imagine my surprise when I found I liked it.

Truthfully, I have always enjoyed listening to contemporary jazz more when it is live versus when it is blasting from our CD player. There is something about our small house being bombarded by disembodied dissonant chords that sets my teeth on edge.

All the music was improvised last night. I was amazed they could sustain a creative dynamic nonstop for almost 90 minutes. In front of an audience of strangers, no less. It made me think they had discipline, confidence, and faith.

Herbie Hancock worked his magic on a grand piano and a synthesizer. It was crazy, the musical noise he made. I lack a musical nomenclature, but I could almost follow what he did because there is something seemingly linear about piano. There is at least the appearance of a beginning and and end with whatever they play. Please don't assume I know what I'm talking about. I am just writing this trying to figure out what I think.

The musician who knocked my socks off was Wayne Shorter. Jazz sax players do NOT seem linear to me. They are explosively expressive and endlessly, belligerently creative. It was nuts how he played around the piano music, how he filled up space with bursts and bleeps. Like I said, I do not have the language to describe it. I certainly don't "understand" what they were playing. I only know these two guys are in touch with some deep creative groove and I enjoyed watching and hearing them settle in to it.

T reminded me that we saw Wayne Shorter perform a million years ago, when he was in the band Weather Report. I have no memory of that performance. It was the early 1970's and believe me, at that time I was way more interested in David Bowie than jazz. I am still more interested in David Bowie than jazz.

Wayne Shorter is a jazz saxophonist, one of the best. He has been referred to as jazz's greatest living composer. He is also a Buddhist, as is Herbie Hancock. They both practice Nichiren Buddhism through an organization called Soka Gakkai International. I knew nothing about this religious discipline before starting this post, so I am absolutely not writing this to promote SGI. I just reference it so I can try to understand what motivates these two guys. Pretty much all I know is what I found on one of the SGI website pages:

"The core Buddhist practice of SGI members is chanting Nam-myoho-renge-kyo and reciting portions of the Lotus Sutra (referred to as gongyo), and sharing the teachings of Buddhism with others in order to help them overcome their problems."

Okay...

When I heard these guys playing I knew they were plugged in to something heady. It must be nice to have a spirituality that encourages you to lose yourself in abstraction and beauty. I kind of envy them that.

Mucky stuff in the lake

I live in hope

I planted caladium under the American sycamore tree out front. We shall see if it grows.  After so many gardening failures I no longer have strong expectations for things I plant.  However, I continue to live in hope.  Why?  Because it is always a visceral thrill when something I planted begins to grow.  In that moment, I feel joy.

As I age I find I have lowered my expectations considerably in nearly every aspect of my life.  I am no longer as excitable or exuberant as I once was.  That's a relief, considering what a big nut I can be.  I am not complaining, I actually think this "adjustment" is a reasonable and welcome change in my life.  I am more able to accept life for what it is instead of what I want it to be.  Who knew I had it in me to be reasonable?

It was fun being young and having unlimited expectations.  I enjoyed the excitement of thinking wonderful things were in store for me at every turn.  So often that turned out to be true. Youth was a great gig.  I think I made the most of it.  I have no regrets. But you have to kiss that joy as it flies. 

For those of us who are lucky enough to survive into our 50's, 60's, 70's, 80's and beyond, one occasionally has to look in the mirror and face facts. There is more of life behind us than there is ahead of us. That is not a tragedy, by the way.  I am not trying to freak you out. Youth and beauty are great, but they fade; they simply do not last. Joy is also momentary and temporary, but it continues.

Maypop, aka purple passionflower, aka Passiflora incarnata - a wild flower in Central Florida

At last!

I did some serious gardening this morning.  Now my lower back is killing me.  I need to bounce back fairly quick, as there is still a lot of digging and planting I need to do.

Last August I wrote, rather pathetically, about the Louisiana irises I planted in a wet area. I have been desperate for color in our small back yard for almost two years. I know most Central Florida people plant hibiscus and crepe myrtle to satisfy their color needs. We have both, but apparently I am a bit of a glutton because they are not enough. I want flowers, dammit! 

The rainy season (aka summer) is really hard on flowers down here, so I have been trying to plant things in the wet areas of our small yard that will survive both the mercilessly hot summer deluge and the drought that torments all growing things for the remaining 8 or 9 months of the year. I am happy to report that the first of the irises started blooming this week. They are fabulous! I will try to name them for those of you who lust after flowers like I do.  I believe this one is called Spicy Cajun Louisiana Iris:

I have also inexplicably fallen in love with canna lilies. There were some red ones in front of the house when we moved in and I just didn't like them. I'm no spring chicken and moving to such a drastically different climate was hard for me.  And when I say hard, I mean mentally hard. I was a huge sulking brat about the whole gardening thing. I thought I needed something familiar. Now I realize I just need something colorful, some flowers for crying out loud. Is that too much to ask? 

I missed the many varieties of flowers that can only be grown up north and resented the cannas for not being day lilies. Does that make me a bad person? Probably not.

Well, all I needed was more time to adjust and a few victories, because now I am in love with these crazy cannas.  I planted a few varieties last summer and they are starting to take off and bloom this year. They are slightly deranged flowers, always a bit out of control. I have discovered that is part of their charm. Each variety seems to have a slightly different personality, yet they are all stark raving mad. In a good way.

The next two are Cleopatra dwarf canna lilies in various stages of bloom.  They are not really all that dwarf: 

 













 

The next one is my favorite.  It is a Louise Cotton dwarf canna, and the color just knocks me out.

And here is a repost of that red canna out front that I didn't used to like.  I don't know what kind it is.  Now I love it.  What a difference a year can make.

And here is a precious flower from the past, Etta James singing "At Last."