The end of an era

My minivan has met the end of its useful life in our family. It was a sad decision; I loved that car. My children went from car seats to ipods in it; we went around town and across the country in that van.

Part of me wishes that the childhoods it saw could go on forever; part of me knows that it's time to move on to the next phase in our lives. With our youngest approaching 18, my days of driving a van full of kids is over. No more daily trips to Karate, play dates, drama, music, or sports; it's been awhile, actually, but the minivan and I remember what it feels like to have kids kicking the seat backs.

It was a good car; it was a good part of my life. But it's important to know when it's time to move forward, and it is most definitely time. A brand new Hyundai Elantra is sitting in our garage; we picked it up yesterday in a town about 100 miles north of us, and I drove it home. It's a dark blue sedan; it's small and cute, and, compared to a minivan, it's a little bit sporty. It turns on a dime, has pretty good acceleration for its size, and goes a long way on a little bit of gas.

I think I'm going to like this next phase of my life.

For the record

I just ate half a pomegranate.

Some people can't stand fiddly foods; and pomegranates are probably one of the fiddliest. Even if you can coerce someone else into peeling it and separating the juice-covered seeds for you, you still have to suck the juice off and spit out the seeds yourself. Pomegranates are definitely not for people who want to take big bites out of life, chew it up quickly and swallow it.

Nope, pomegranates are for those of us who like fiddly work. Non-fiddly people may enjoy pomegranate juice, jam or cookies; but you can bet that they will lose interest in the fruit itself very quickly.

I also love artichokes.

Yup, I'm definitely a fiddly-food person.

The last of the Terra

As y'all know, I love lampwork beads. Perhaps it would be closer to the truth to say that I am obsessed with them; I have passed well beyond being a collector, and have joined the ranks of hoarders. I could probably use a 10-step program, but this is an addiction that I don't want to break.

If you had been a fly on the wall for the past couple of years, you would notice a pattern in my bead acquisitions; you would see that I have done my level best to buy up every bead featuring Terra Glass that came from the flame of Melissa Vess.

Go ahead, click on her name and go to her shop; you won't see any beads made with Terra in there. It's all gone. I bought the last of them a few weeks ago, and I've just made them up into a bracelet and a pendant set. It's not the last of my Terra stash, you understand; it's the last of hers. I still have quite a few in my collection.

But these are special.

When love needs neglect

It's a hard concept; I'm used to caring for things. But I've just bought some new plants, California natives all, and all the research I've done says that they must not be put on the drip irrigation system. As any gardener knows, watering a plant is considered crucial. It's how we plant-mothers show our love; our babies are never allowed to dry out. They might shrivel up and die, and we'd feel horrible about that.

Enter the irrigation system; I love my irrigation system. It remembers, even when I forget. It doesn't get all caught up in something else and wake up, days later, to realize that there is no milk in the refrigerator and the plants haven't been watered; nope, it turns itself on and off, and all I have to do is check on things every now and again, adjusting times and making repairs when called for.

But now these plants are gumming up the works. They're not supposed to get supplemental watering; and, in particular, they are said to hate being dripped upon. It makes sense; they grow naturally here, and we only get rain in the winter. No one goes up in the hills with a hosepipe in the summer to attend to their needs; obviously, they have come to terms with the concept of not getting any water for months on end.

I, sadly, have not. I feel terrible about not providing them with a drip. I will watch them carefully, at least when I remember to do so; I can't promise that I won't wave a hose at them occasionally, at least during their first year in my garden. It's one thing to read something; it's quite another to accept it as true.

It's who I am

Most of the people who know me would say roses when asked to think of my gardens; and yes, roses have always been plentiful, even in New York, in a shady garden where they didn't want to grow.

But for me, it's daffodils that define my gardens; I put down roots with every bulb I plant. I have planted several thousand bulbs over the years that I have gardened; in each one, I have planted at least a hundred every year, until there are daffodils in every spot that they will grow. 

This is my first daffodil-planting season in this garden; we moved too late last year to put in even a few, they were completely gone from the stores. I'm making up for it this year; I planted 40 daffodil bulbs today, and have 100 more for next week. When those are gone, I might just pick up a few more on clearance.

But daffodils aren't the only spring color; I've also planted an already forgotten number of tulips, freesia and ranunculus in the raised bed under the living room windows. I will have a colorful spring.

Even though they bloom only once a year, and don't last but a few weeks, daffodils mark my years. I can't imagine my world without them.

You know you're old when . . .

. . . Your idea of a booty call is popping over to Trader Joe's for Mediterranean Hummus and Tortilla Chips with an Identity Crisis.

Yup, my hubby is out of town today, and I'm partying down with chick peas.

Pretty scary, eh?

Ho ho ho

Yup, it's time for crafters to start thinking about the holidays! I've added a holiday treat in my Etsy store; anyone who buys five tutorials will get a sixth one for free. Pop on over to my Etsy Store for details.

I've been working on developing a snowflake bracelet; I think it's getting me in a winter frame of mind, although it's still very warm outside. We won't see snow here in Central California, but I do remember it! We had many snowy winters when we lived in New York.

Wherever you are, and whatever you do for the holidays, I wish you all the best.