Orchid Tree, Part 2 (and Red Fish Update)

Our orchid tree is in bloom. Here's a nice close up. The tree, in its totality, is still skinny and not much to look at--if you squint just right it looks like a mass of flowers hanging in the air.

To follow up on an earlier post, this tree is also known as Mountain Ebony (Bauhinia purpurea) and is a less desired and less commonly seen specimen than its cousin, the Hong Kong orchid tree (Bauhinia x blakeana), which has already finished flowering this year.

This year, when the blooms fall off and the pods come in (like huge sugar peas) I will trim back the tree a little to shape it up. Maybe next year the leaves will look better. I'm consulting with my team of scientists at the CIA for a new strategy.

Also, I returned my sick fish to the pond this morning. He seemed better, or maybe he just looked lonely floating around in that garbage can. If he is contagious, you'd think he would have gotten worse by now, right? Oh well, sometimes there's not a good choice to make. I just went to check on him, and he wasn't floating. So far, so good.

Here's the tree, seen from the front yard. It wouldn't win any awards at a plant show, but I think it is a really nice, beautiful tree. I'm glad we have this variety.

Also, I went out again, just now, to try and take a picture of the red fish, and he must be hiding under the lilies. The koi can hear the security alarm beep from our house when we open the back door, and they usually come to the surface to see if I've got some food. They are all hiding today. No one wants to go into the can.

Red Fish, Blue Fish

One of our koi is sick. I've had him quarantined for almost a week in a big galvanized trash can so that he doesn't infect the other fish (per the recommendations of experts on the web).

Apparently he has a problem with his swim bladder, which is inflated, and this causes him to float on his side. Otherwise his eyes are bright and he seems healthy and he can swim upright for short periods. Here he is taking a dive with some indignation (koi are very camera shy). When he is floating (which is 99% of the time) it is a very sad sight.

I refer to him as a male, though I don't really know. I guess if he's going to die, I would feel less emotional about a male fish dying.

The swim bladder problem sometimes is due to temperate changes and. like a bad case of gas, it may go away and the little guy will get better. Sometimes the problem is parasites or bladder disease. Some people recommend medicated food, some recommend frozen peas and many people just recommend leaving him alone.

The problem is: he doesn't want to eat. Yesterday I tried to feed him some peas, but he just ignores them. Just for fun I flipped one of the peas into the air and it popped right into his mouth--like making a basket from the half court line. Cheryl, for some reason, just gave me a funny look when I told her, which was OK because the fish spit out the pea a few seconds later.

I know this is some fuss over a fish, but I've grown to like the little guy. I try to visit a few times a day, but he probably thinks I'm a giant bird and is wondering if life could possibly suck more. At least he gets some exercise. Does he miss being with the other fish? From what I can tell, the fish would just as soon eat each other as spit. When one of them gets sick, the others go to the bottom of the pond and stay there. More later.

Prickly Pear Plots

Today I noticed that the prickly pear cactus (Opuntia ?) in our side yard is just starting to bloom. At this stage they have pretty yellow pistils extending from the end. I watched as this bee (can you see it on the top?) squirmed around in the folds for several minutes. He finally came out, drunk and laughing, and flew into my camera lens before stumbling on to molest another flower. It was pretty disgraceful, but what can you do?

The cactus is about 25 feet tall and maybe 20 feet wide, constantly threatening to consume the two orange trees in its neighborhood. The more I cut it back, the stronger it gets.

Coincidentally, the oranges from both trees are little bitter, and I believe it is a plot by the cactus to trick me into cutting down the trees so that it can complete its conquest of the entire side yard. Orange trees, I've discovered, are not too bright and are easily lead astray.

The trick is this: Prickly pears are very brittle--their arms fall off with little provocation. It's how they start new plants. So this freak is just bating me, just daring me to go out there and start hacking at it. We'll just see. Maybe I won't...

I swear the following is true: I just went outside to take another picture of the cactus, and one of the big arms had fallen off. The arm fell off while I was writing this blog. I swear.

Also, one of our fish is probably dying. It floats on its side for a while, then swims for a while. I feel really bad for it but am hopeful that it may soon recover.

Swamp Hibiscus

Here's Willow inspecting the finished stairway project and wondering how long it will take her to demolish the finish with her witch-like toe nails. She's been passive-aggressive throughout the project, wanting to supervise and wanting to destroy. She is literally drooling at the possibilities.

If only she would wear socks or some slippers...

I know what some of you are thinking. The swamp hibiscus (Hibiscus coccineus) to the right looks like a plant that, if found growing in your yard, could prompt a DEA helicopter firestorm attack and an onslaught of men wearing matching jackets and caps and carrying machine guns and talking into radios and being very serious about it.

Cheryl and I saw first this plant in the everglades. It has a gorgeous scarlet flower, and I am very reluctant to use the word "gorgeous".

We've had this one for about 3 years now. It grows in a pot in the fish pond, dies back in the fall and comes back in January. Last year the dreaded Sri Lankan biobot weevils infested the plant, but this year I have a surprise for them. We'll get some blooms in April or May. Until then, I throw up whenever a helicopter passes overhead.

Firebush

While waiting for the finish to dry on the stairs, I'm working on my military plans for Afghanistan. The president called me again last night, but I told him I wouldn't be ready for a few days--maybe a week, considering how long it's taking for the stairs to dry--so he gave a speech about Iraq without my input. Oh well.

Speaking in front of an audience of marines today at noon, Obama could not have been more well received as he outlined a plan to withdraw troops from Iraq in 18 months. I don't doubt that some people will find fault with the speech and these plans. But watch the speech on C-SPAN if you get a chance, and listen to how the crowd connects with him. I'm beginning to wonder if Obama is actually a genius, or if he only seems so compared to W.

We have this firebush (Hamelia patens, a cousin of my wild coffee plant), in the back yard next to the koi pond. Every year I cut it back hard and it comes back happier than ever. Like many other plants in our backyards, the firebush has medical qualities and a rich history that we don't know anything about. This one is known by people around the world; they eat it, make tea from it, rub it into wounds. Who knew?

I'm also discovering that the situation in Afghanistan is endlessly complicated both politically (with the Russians, Pakistanis and others) and militarily. Developments in Pakistan are pretty remarkable and not well covered in the press. Recently, the Pakistani government ceded control of a large section of the country called Swat to the local tribes, and many of these sympathetic to the Taliban in Afghanistan. And Pakistan has nuclear weapons. Here is a report from CNN:

Stairs and Happiness

I've just finished with the third coat of finish on the stairs. As you can see, I have chairs at the bottom and the top, with ropes hanging between to help Cheryl and Willow remember where not to walk (and I think maybe one of the them has gotten the hang of it).


This project all started when we decided that Willow should not sleep downstairs alone. Poor Thud couldn't walk up the stairs, so he and Willow slept in the sun room downstairs. After Thud passed away we got Willow a princess bed and now she sleeps on the floor on Cheryl's side of the bed (naturally).

But to be honest, we missed having a dog sleep in our room. Willow has a favorite couch downstairs, and she would be perfectly happy to sleep there, but we prefer to believe she is happier staying with us. And possibly she is aware that we prefer to believe she is happier with us, so she actually is happier. Maybe that is true measure of happiness.

If left to her own impulses, Willow will run up and down the stairs at full speed and with all the strength of a world-class athlete and Frisbee master (I'm not bragging--it's a fact), ripping the stair steps with her nails. In the morning we have a new routine. We take one step down, wait 5 or 10 seconds, take another step, and so on, until she almost explodes from frustration. Then at the bottom she laughs and jumps up and down, as if it couldn't be more fun.

After the finish has dried for several days, I'll move the chairs and start on the other side. I probably should have a greater ambition in life but do not.