Curse of bougainvillea

New Image

THE ABOVE SHOWS just a small portion of the fallen bougainvillea leaves I must remove on a regular basis. My patience is running short.

More than 15 years back I planted many things in our yard that I have grown mightily to regret. The nopal tree, now gone. Two pear trees, gone. Peach tree, gone. There are only two major nuisances left, the bougainvillea and a very large loquat.

Just this week, I noticed that a freaking, nasty pigeon is nesting deep in the bougainvillea, no doubt producing more of those large pests. I would remove the nest if I could see it or reach it, but the plant is so thick, that’s next to impossible.

I see her dive in there and disappear. Then there are maternal clucking sounds! If  I’m walking along our sidewalk, and she’s gliding toward the hidden nest, she abruptly detours on spotting me. She thinks I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m sharper than a pigeon.

The damnable pigeon occasionally sits and craps atop the steel superstructure where our upstairs terraza dome will be installed. (Glass is en route, by the way.) Pigeons are a relatively new element in my hardscrabble barrio. I only noticed the first one about a year ago, and now they’re making themselves at home.

If I only possessed a shotgun!

The large plaza downtown is overrun with pigeons now, and people feed them! Welcome! They roost in the attics of the old Colonial buildings surrounding the plaza, making a horrible mess. We wrote a letter to the mayor a few years back, suggesting he put signs on the plaza forbidding the feeding of pigeons.

He ignored us, and the pigeon population continues to swell.

On a positive note, the days now consist of blue skies and cool-enough temperatures. Not only are bougainvillea blooming all over town, but spectacular jacaranda trees too.

And the first flower of our golden datura appeared by the Alamo Wall this week.

Other current events: At this moment, just after High Noon, the folks who live in the hovel out back are blaring music to one and all. Luckily, that side of the Hacienda has no windows save a small one in the upstairs bathroom, so the noise is not a problem.

This afternoon we’ll be lunching at a health-food joint by the docks. Haven’t been there in many a month. Should arrive about 2 p.m. Come join us if you like. Dutch Treat, of course. We’re fixed-income pensioners.

Then later we’ll drive downtown for a stroll around the Semana Santa market that covers the plaza. Some interesting things on sale, but the Day of the Dead market is superior.

* * * *

Note: The horror story I mentioned about a week ago likely will appear here on Saturday. I’ve emerged from the grim tale intact. Stay tuned, as they say.

A sunny Sunday

New Image
Photo by Paul Whalen.

DAWN DEBUTED sunny today, and it is cool and nice.

Cool being the weather, not the overused adjective.

Hauling my body from the king bed at 7, I looked out the window and saw a black-vented oriole in the bottle-brush tree. Approaching spring brings new birds hereabouts.

After getting a glass of water and a piece of toast from the kitchen, I came upstairs, where I now sit, fired up the H-P All-in-One at my desk to begin the news day. There is a bank of windows in the wall where I face, one being directly behind the H-P All-in-One.

The view has been cleaned up since a technician came a few days ago and removed an unsightly WiFi antenna that disrupted my sight of the mountains.

So Sunday, vista-wise and other wises too, is getting off to a great start, certainly better than what happened yesterday with the dead bat in a pot.

Odds & Ends south of the border

LIFE CONSISTS of details strung together, some good, some bad.

We live next door to a hot-springs motel that was constructed over a decade ago in what was an empty lot where a lonely cow lived. The motel has not provided us with as many interesting moments as we had imagined.

The traffic there is fairly constant. It’s a nice, well-maintained place.

Recently, the owner installed an automatic gate opener in the exit lane. It makes a whirring sound every time it’s activated as satiated customers depart.

We hear the whirring in the Hacienda, and we call it the Sound of Satisfaction.

* * * *

Credit card fraud, etc.

We’ll be going downtown early this morning to the bank. If you get there at 8:30, the wait isn’t bad before you can talk with one of the officers.

We have a number of issues to resolve. My child bride’s debit card is about to expire. The electricity bill for the Hacienda was not paid automatically from our checking account last time, as it’s done for years. And I need a new credit card because we had to cancel one last week due to hefty fraudulent charges.

odds&endsI only use credit cards online, never out in the real world. How do crooks put charges on it? This is not the first time it’s happened, but this week’s bogus charges are considerably higher than ever before. Good thing I keep a sharp eye on card movements.

Due to such perils, I consider four a minimum number of cards. All of my credit cards are issued by our Mexican bank. I had American credit cards when I moved south, but they’ve fallen by the wayside.

Anyway, if you live in Mexico you should have Mexican credit cards.

If you don’t care if your name is engraved on the card, and I don’t, you can pick up another credit card immediately at the bank. Ditto for the debit cards.

Our bank is BBVA Bancomer, the best bank in Mexico.

The worst bank is HSBC.

* * * *

Sonogram of my insides

More has happened on the health front. Recently, I got a colonoscopy, which I wrote about here, Getting a hose up my butt, and then a few days later I wrote a companion piece, An inkling of death.

The gastroenterologist who put the hose up my butt, due to some blood work he found suspicious, recommended I get a sonogram of my liver. I did that yesterday, and the doctor said everything looked okay.

The doctors keep trying to kill me, but I defy them.

The sonogram, done by a doctor not a technician in a high-tech lab in the state capital, cost the peso equivalent of $27.

Beats the devil out of ObamaCare.

* * * *

Nasty little birds

New ImageI’m battling birds. Some years, but not all, I have to fight off swallows around this time who want to build their wretched mud/spit nests on the roof beams along the edge of the Hacienda’s exterior.

They stick muddy spit up there, and I scrape it off from below with a hoe. They try it again. I scrape again, and so on. This has been going on for a week. Some years they bypass us entirely. Most years, actually.

But they are stubborn this year. Some people say it’s bad luck to remove their nests, but I don’t care. They’re nasty.

* * * *

Cheese and chairs

Within two blocks of the lab in the state capital, we found a cheese shop, so we bought some superlative cheese off a huge wheel. We also found a specialty workshop that we’ll be using. It’s a guy who renovates old office chairs.

At this moment, I’m sitting in an elegant office chair that I bought about three months ago at Office Depot. It was a replacement for the previous elegant office chair I had used for many years.

Alas, the old one is in bad shape, even sporting tape on one arm.

How fortunate to have found a shop that renovates old office chairs. When we return next week to pick up the official results of my sonogram, I’ll be dropping off the old office chair. Perhaps it has many more years ahead of it, supporting my butt because I prefer the older one.

Mexicans do everything.

We’ll likely cross the street for more cheese too. It was wonderful cheese.

 

Strolling the yard

bones
Señora Bones scares intruders from the Hacienda. Well, that’s the idea.
corner
Renovated bathroom window. And the beams over both windows are newly varnished.

IT’S SUNDAY, our day of rest.

Saturday is our busiest day due to the weekly pastry sale my child bride offers out of her big basket that’s shaped like a sombrero. We do that downtown on the main plaza.

After the endless hubbub of Saturday, we kick back on Sunday. After watching a strange movie on Netflix this morning — Joe, starring Nicholas Cage — I took a stroll around the yard while my child bride began the lengthy, female process of bathing and dressing before we head out to a restaurant.

I photographed some stuff.

It was a nice morning, mild and sunny. There was la señora Bones, whom I’ve not shown here in a fair spell. She stands next to the Alamo Wall. Then there was a corner of the house, bath window on left, bedroom on right. We recently had work done on the bathroom window, new varnish, new screen.

The plant in the middle is the golden datura tree, which I whack back to a nub for winter. It’s starting to sprout again and will be full of big, gold blooms and a fine smell that drifts into the bedroom on summer nights.

Yesterday, I was sitting in a web chair, lazy style, watering with a garden hose when a goldfinch joined me for a bath. He sat himself on the sidewalk on the outer edge of my spraying and turned himself this way and that, fluffing up his feathers, giving himself a very nice shower. And it was fun for me too. He was only about three feet away.

Though we’re still in the dead of winter, calendar-wise, the pear tree thinks it’s springtime. That’s it below sprouting blooms. The weather has been so mild for a few weeks that the pear has lost touch with reality.

It’s good to live in agreeable surroundings.

She’s hollering up from downstairs now that she’s ready to go eat.

pears
Pear tree thinks it’s springtime.