, more commonly known as Purple Heart… and since I always post the first Crinum lily of the season… lily with Bree in the background. In people years the old girl is 83.
You can’t kill crinums. I pulled the entire bed up after Irma… about 60 of them… and threw the ones I wanted to keep in another bed. Not planted. They lay there dormant, looking door-nail dead, until I planted them again this Spring. Miraculous.
Alberto has been dumping massive amounts of water on us, but guess what? It’s monsoon season anyway. For two weeks before Al got here we were inundated every day. Fortunately we live on a sandbar.
Still working on the yard; this time one of the front beds. Looks crazy messy, but it was worse before I tackled it…
Since the plumeria and graviola are a memory I figured ‘wot the hell, Archie?’ and undertook a full sweep. Zero fucks given.
The lilies are to be dug up and relocated where they aren’t so close together (Crinum hari-kari).
Those idiots behind me are probably regretting cutting my beautiful ivy down now… heh…
Lots still to do, obviously…
Roughly half my hopes for survival rested on this lovely front I’d named George.
And then he occluded.
We’re in the Fort Lauderdale area and have prepared as best we can… and are still working… but how do you really prepare for a Cat 4/5 storm?
Sure, we have brand new impact windows… but I’m worried about the old doors. I’m worried about the roof. I’m worried that the whole damn house will go. I saw it, after Andrew. It just took my roof and most of my stuff, but down in Homestead, entire communities were wiped from the face of the earth as though they’d never existed.
I know, just like Galveston. And every other place… And all I can see when I close my eyes is the Andrew devastation.
If you’re in this, know that I’m praying for you.