This time a yellow bromelia
This time a yellow bromelia
Another one of my old stories.
All she had to do was answer a few questions, about roses of course. Myrtle was a hobby gardener and just loved roses. She had all sorts: pink, yellow, orange and of course red, but so did the neighbours. She then saw an advertisement in the “Gardeners Weekly”.
“Are you a rose expert? Name the various rose sorts shown below in the photos and if you are lucky you will win our exclusive new rose “Black Death”. “
Or course Myrtle wanted to own a Black Death rose. Ok, it was not a pretty rose, but it would be something no-one else had and so she spent the evening ploughing through her collection of Rose books and filled out the competition slip answering the questions.
“That was easy” she thought “nothing difficult there, and most of them I knew without looking in my book”. The next day she sent her competition entry off to Dark Rose Developments, Cemetery Lane, Vulcania Town, Carpathia. She noticed that the address was in another country, but the post office had no problems. A week later a parcel arrived from Carpathia with an accompanying letter and certificate.
“Congratulations, you are now the proud possessor of our newest rose “Black Death”. We have also enclosed a bottle of our special fertiliser and would advise only to use this to ensure that the rose remains unique, as well as our certificate of Authenticity which can be displayed next to this unique rose.”
This was beyond Myrtle’s dreams of success. She had visions of people stopping by her garden and admiring her unique rose. She would definitely win a prize at the next horticultural show in town. She unfolded the certificate and read “We confirm that this is a first edition of a new and individual rose sort, created in the Dark Rose Development Institute in Carpathia and that Myrtle Ramsbottom has been registered as a unique owner of such a rose.”. It was printed in large red letters on black background and looked very important. Myrtle fixed it to the stem of the rose bush when she planted it in the garden.
“Ouch” she said as it seemed one of the thorns on the rose had decided to prick her finger. She even had to put a plaster on her finger to stop the bleeding. She then examined the black flask containing the fertiliser, also with red letters stating “Black Death Rose Fertiliser, to be applied daily”.
Myrtle poured a little of the fertiliser, a red liquid, into her watering can and diluted it with some water as was instructed in the leaflet accompanying the fertiliser. She found the liquid had a very penetrant smell with a sort of iron aroma, but decided that Black Death roses were something special and needed a special fertiliser.
The next morning she went to the garden to see how her rose was developing and surprise, two more buds had opened showing the glossy black petals. She was a little sad however. It seems that a bird had flown to close to the rose bush and had injured itself on the thorns. The bird was now dead and so Myrtle removed it. She did not want the neighbours to see. That week she daily removed dead birds and mice from the surroundings of the bush. She was a little worried about the neighbour’s cat, knowing that curiosity killed the cat. Actually the bush did not kill the cat, but it seemed that Tiddles was not longer the cuddly little black fur ball he was, but his teeth grew longer and he even tried to kill the dog. Luckily the dog escaped, being a greyhound.
And so the rose bush grew and grew and grew and there was silence in Myrtle’s garden. No longer were there chirping birds and the only animal that visited the garden was Tiddles, who became a good friend to Myrtle, her only friend. And the injury on her finger from the thorn eventually healed although Myrtle found herself having to remove a few drops of blood now and again. Eventually people began to talk about Myrtle. She was very rarely seen during day, only in the evening when she often took a walk through the surroundIing forest accompanied by Tiddles the black cat who no longer meowed but howled. People began to avoid her, especially on full moon nights. Yes that was a prickly exam she took, but she won the Black Death rose and had something in the garden that no-one else had.
The police, your friend and helper, as the saying goes. Not at all acerbic, if you are not acerbic. Today I had a meeting by chance with them, something I have wanted for some time.
As some may know, I can get quite acerbic against people that park on the places reserved for the handicapped at the store. I have a permit and the others just find it quite handy to park there and so I am often forced to park on a field which is private.
So today I arrived at the parking spaces for the handicapped, and there were only two occupied out of seven, no problem of course. Then I saw two men dressed in their smart blue shirts with the word “Polizei” emblazoned everywhere and they were talking to one of the ladies in the supermarket from the customer service desk. I gathered that an irate customer got so acerbic he called the police to fine someone that was parked without permission. I say good luck to him, but it is not something I would do.
I heard the lady from customer service say “there is just nothing we can do, we cannot go absent from our desk and chase them away from the parking spaces, but some of the customers get very annoyed”.
That was my cue to say a few words “yes, it is very annoying when the parking spaces are occupied by visitors without a handicap, we depend on this extra large spaces next to the entrance” and one of the policemen made a mistake, he answered me and that was my cue to continue. The poor man had to listen to my complaints about Christmas holidays and Easter when there were no places left for those entitled to these special parking fields. I told him I am one of the customers that often complains, and the customer service lady nodded as we have known each other for many years.
It was a pleasant conversation, and I at last got some satisfaction in having my say. I was not acidic at all, how could you be when you have two nice guys looking good in their uniform, it was something like a TV film. Their blue shirts were really quite sexy and they even had their name badge on the shirt. I suppose they must have had their gun somewhere, but I was too interested in my conversation to notice.
This morning the sun is rising with a glare: no clouds to be seen and a blue sky, so it looks like it will be a good day. It is week-end shopping day, and I have not even made a list up to now. No. 1 son is off to Zürich tomorrow for an outing and so it will be just Mr. Swiss and I for lunch, meaning I can get what I like, as he no longer eats so much. How the human can change when it reaches the later years.
And yesterday afternoon I decided to venture into the unknown again. It has been at least two weeks since I went on a wheelie in my chair, but I have been so busy with other chores, I was just feeling too tired. I decided to stay in the area to see what has changed. I noticed the corn was now ripening and many fields had been cleared to the pleasure of the crows.
The season for farming is slowly approaching its end and soon Autumn will be upon us. It has been a fast summer this year, probably because my life no longer runs as smooth as it did. How I miss the walks in the country with Mr. Swiss, visits to town for a drink, but he can no more and is more or less confined to the home. Now and again he takes a walk around our village: not very far or long, but at least he can get out with his walker.
I seem to spend my time organising life for both of us: keeping the home tidy, making beds, laundering and cooking. I am also no longer as mobile but have noticed the more I make an effort to move, the better I feel. I am now no longer using my walker so much at home. Although there is a risk, with my MS, that I might fall, I am managing quite well at the moment and more movement seems to strengthen the muscles. Of course I rely on the car for shopping and my electric wheelchair for excursions in the area, but at home I am managing quite well.
I visited the local stables and farm yesterday. The egg producing hens have now been shifted to another part which is difficult for me to visit in my wheelchair, too many stones on the rough path. However, they have a special breed of chicken that wander around the grounds of the farmhouse which are quite amusing to see.
They have amusing feathers and I think they are known as Silkies. I am not sure how they are with the egg prouction, but I did see a rooster walking amongst them. He disappeared when I wanted to take a photo.
There are still a few horses at the farm and I often see people having a ride. I think they look after the horses that belong to other people.
I wheeled up to the hill with the castle and was rewarded with a wonderful view from the top.
I also got a view over the town. There were some interesting clouds floating by.
And now to move on, I have some planning to do for the afternoon shopping tour and a little bit of cleaning at home, although not so much. There are also a few items to be ironed from yesterdays wash. Another week has come and gone and I get a little concerned sometimes about how time flies. Have a good day, enjoy. See you all later. I will leave you with a view of our castle taken from the main road with the Jura mountains in the background,
Je gratte, donc je suis
In 2016, aged 48, I suffered a stroke. Now I'm coming through the other side.
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