My
clivia is blooming. I’ve included two photos. One shows a close up of the
individual flower that makes up the whole blooming ball. I have four of these
plants in the house and all originated from the first one I obtained. I don’t
remember who provided my start, but besides the ones I’ve grown for myself, I’ve
given other plants to friends and family. The only reason I have four now is
that I was unable to rehome three of them. These plants are relatively easy to
grow. You really don’t have to do much of anything besides provide some water
now and again and fertilizer.
You
would think since one of the four is blooming, the other three would be doing
so as well, but they have given no indication of producing a bloom. One of the
other three is busy producing additional starts. If I take it out of its pot,
by the looks of things, I’d be able to repot it and two babies. I’m not sure if
I’m going to do that. I’ve never just left the clivia to its own devices when
it comes to making babies…maybe it’s time.
Plants
have always been a huge part of my life and they’ve always had a place in my
home. I’m trying to remember if I’ve written about the plants of my life in a
previous blog post, but you know what, I cannot remember. For that matter,
today’s post is #213 which means I only have 152 left to complete the year of
daily postings I said I would do on January 1st. Honestly, does it
seem possible that there’s so few days left in 2020. Seriously, I’ll be more
than happy to say farewell to this year and embark on a new one, but only if
there’s some absolutely, positively hopeful sign that all our lives can return
to normal (whatever that is) in 2021.
I’ll
end the year having completed my mission of a post a day, but it is difficult
these days to think of something new to write about. The whole purpose was to
record my life without John, how I’m doing as a widow, and how my life has
changed because of that. Because of the pandemic, my life isn’t anything like I
imagined it would be, so there’s definitely been no posts about fabulous trips
after the initial February cruise. I’ve been far lonelier without John since I
cannot go places or entertain. And, probably I’ve missed close human skin-to-skin
contact way more than I ever expected to.
That’s
not to say that before the pandemic I planned to rush out as a new widow and
take up with every Tom, Dick and Harry who came my way. In fact, I only know
one Tom and don’t much care for him. The only Dick and Harry I knew are up to
no good with John wherever they are. So, it would have had to be men known by
other names. Still, I’ve always been the kind of woman who has to know the man
before jumping into a relationship…unless there’s great chemistry as there was
with John. And, let’s face it, at my age, great chemistry comes out of a bottle
prescribed by my doctor or brewed in a gin factory somewhere.
I
do have to admit, however, that I haven’t seen a man in person that was over
50, maybe even 35 or 40, who was the least bit attractive to me. I’ve certainly
seen many many younger men with whom I’m sure I’d have great chemistry provided
the horrid number of decades standing between us weren’t in the way.
And,
I don’t know how many women my age can remember growing up and the way the
majority of the boys/men in our lives were rather ho hum compared to the young
men growing up today. I cannot remember a single boy/young man who had muscles,
muscle definition, six-pack abs and could pick me up with their little finger.
Nope, they were all lily-white, smooth skinned without a single muscle showing,
and I might have been able to beat them at arm wrestling because I was such a
tomboy.
Yes,
most of the young men I see today (and okay, I’m not seeing many because I’m
not going anywhere), are buff and attractive. I remember riding in a car with
several friends more than ten years ago. Another car full of handsome young men
pulled alongside at the light. They smiled, acted very friendly and then
zoomed on their way. I said something to the effect I wish I had some of that
date drug that keeps the person from remembering the night before. If I did, I’d
go find myself a young man because I wouldn’t want him to remember the
experience because of my age. Everyone laughed and I hope they all thought my comments were
funny, but to be perfectly honest, it actually sounds like a fine idea. Yep, a
fine idea, but not one that I would have the least idea how to pursue.
Now,
an older man, no matter how much older, can go out and find a much younger
woman and while I might personally find it disgusting, society accepts such
relationships with a problem. But if I or someone my age or older were to go
out and recruit one of those young and buff and handsome men, society would
have a lot to say…look at what happened with poor Demi Moore. I guess the
message here would be to enjoy it while you are younger and have it.
Sheesh,
I have no idea where this all came from. I just began typing and apparently
suffered from diarrhea of the fingers. Hopefully, no one has been scandalized
or offended by my post; but, oh well, if that has happened. Reading it over, I
think what I was trying to do was to point out how times and people have
changed since I was very young. And, just perhaps, engage in a bit of
daydreaming in the process. I have become quite lonely during this pandemic.