ABOUT 7 P.M. yesterday, I was sitting on a web chair in the yard patio, enjoying life.
I had come home about an hour previously and, after changing the birdbath water, wiping the glass patio table, the chairs too, I took a seat to enjoy the view.
The August air was cool.
I noticed something zooming about the bush just in front of me. It appeared to be the smallest hummingbird in the world, and it was visiting orange blossoms. Could that be a hummingbird? It was so tiny. And it appeared black and white.
I stood for a closer look, but it dashed to the other side of the orange bush and vanished off somewhere. I came inside for internet sleuthing.
It was a hummingbird moth. I had never heard of such a thing. It comes in two varieties, the Clearwing Moth and the White-Lined Sphinx. Mine was the latter. Here is some interesting information. The video, which isn’t mine, is not too clear because they are hard to tape.
Its range is from Central America to Canada, but I’d never seen one. Unlike most moths who are night creatures, hummingbird moths gad about in daylight.
THURSDAY MORNINGS there’s a mercado on the neighborhood plaza just down the way. Mostly, it’s fruits and veggies, but you can also find fresh fish flopping atop a tarp on the sidewalk, and used clothing and deep-fried pigskin from a copper vat.
What you cannot find, at least today, are decent avocados. Prices are really high lately, and one effect of that is that street vendors do not buy them to sell because they don’t sell. You can still find avocados easily in supermarkets, however.
Returning home following my morning exercise walk, I looked about the yard. The rainy season does good things and bad things too. All have to do with rampant growth. The grass gets green (good), and it must be mowed (bad).
Plants that were chillin’ over winter and spring muscle up. Habitual passers-by here at The Unseen Moon will recall that I’ve eliminated quite a few yard plants over the last year or so, to my happiness and my child bride’s dismay.
Some, like the cursed peach tree and monster pear tree, are gone altogether. Here’s a shot from 2015. That’s the peach on the left. The pear is barely visible farther on, right side. Also, you’ll notice the old, stone Jesus Patio.
We now sport a cleaner look.
That big aloe vera in the top photo is whacked back a bit, something I did this morning. I also trimmed the other aloe vera that sits outside our bedroom. I did that a couple of days ago. The cuttings rest in what I call the Garden Patio, below.
Abel the Deadpan Yardman will be here Saturday to mow the grass and weedeat. I’ll have him haul the aloe vera cuttings down the street where he’ll toss them into the ravine.
Remember the colossal bougainvillea I had removed a few months ago? Here’s how she looked then with my child bride providing size perspective.
And then I had her removed, all but the base.
But like an unruly woman, she’s reasserting herself, but I’ve got the upper hand now and will bend her to my considerable will. She’ll learn who’s her Daddy.
In an ideal world, plants with attitude would be eliminated completely from the Hacienda property, and only polite ones would stay put.
In other news, the fellows who installed the shade netting in the renovated upstairs terraza last month will return today or tomorrow to remove the yellow net we chose at first. The reason is that it hangs below the glass domo, trapping bugs which then die there. Due to the light color of the net, the bug graveyard is horribly visible. Creepy.
So the yellow netting will be removed, and a darker, greenish one will be installed atop the glass, not below. This will also add a bit of protection against hail damage.
Never a dull moment. And if you read this far down, a Gold Star and Honorable Mention will be added to your permanent record. Congrats.
Out on the downstairs terraza, that is. I heard nothing when it happened, just noticing it this morning. Around midnight I got out of the king bed to close the windows in case rain was coming in. Normally, the golden datura bush just outside that window blocks most rain, but you can never take it to the bank.
This morning I found a pool on the renovated upstairs terraza, so I swept it out through the inadequate drain hole. The guys are coming tomorrow (they say) to install the final canvas curtain, which will close off three of the four compass directions.
Right now, we remain at 50-50.
After bagels and cream cheese (lite) with black café Americano, we sat a spell, our morning breather, on the scarlet sofa with soft music, and I thought: Well, this sure is fine. One wonders that if life ends well it cancels or justifies the grief of the past.