witchchild

Two pairs of glasses ordered, and special eye vitamins purchased. Walgreen's was again almost deserted.

We've already had the first wildfire in the immediate region—in the east San Jose hills. But except for a blip upwards yesterday, the weather so far this summer has been mild: 70s and 80s. (I'm lazy enough to be glad not to have had to go to every-day hand watering yet.) The Chronicle weatherman, of course, spins this as a crushing disappointment for San Franciscans, but they should be used to fog and morning chill, even afternoon chill, by now. And on my morning walk, I keep seeing people in long sleeves—probably transplants from SoCal, or Mumbai.

The monstera plant is extruding another leaf. It clearly likes living in the front window.

The runner beans in the side yard are something like 6th-generation self-sown or regrown from the root. They are scraggly. I'd been seeing tiny beanpods on one, but suddenly, down near the ground, there was a full-sized pod. So I sliced it up and added it to my pasta.

This evening Monty and Prudence were there again, but on the roof of the neighbours' shed, sitting watching me. When I emerged with the food, Monty had come down to the driveway and was waiting there ... with his back to me. Prudence was on the fence. He started eating as soon as I shut the side door; I suspect she came down soon after.

Yesterday evening I was washing up while cooking my dinner, with the back door open for the breeze, and kept hearing scrabbling sounds from the back porch room. All I could see through the plastic corrugated roof was black bird bodies and feet. It seems the crows were using it as a slide, or a prizefighting arena, or something.

Today, after dumping some water on the plants outside and before dinner, I did a bit of deadheading and moved on to cut back some of the ivy where it was starting to flow into the driveway. Then suddenly there was a grey and cream patch staring at me with two baleful eyes. Mama Violet bedded down in the ivy. Time to stop clipping.

The much abused privet-like bush under the dining room window, which I'm considering trimming, has emitted lots of its little white rose-like flowers. Not all over, in patches.

A few days ago, I was walking and noticed what looked like a clump of oak flowers. I forget what made me turn it over, but it proved to be this girlie:



(Maybe 3" high)

I propped her up against the base of the nearest lamp post. When I next went by that spot, I looked and she'd disappeared, so I figured whatever little girl had lost her, had found her again. But today I was there again and noticed a clump of oak flowers in the ivy next to the pavement/sidewalk ... so second best happy ending, home she came with me.

This is pretty clearly a girl bear. Not only is she very petite, she has two hair ornaments, and one of them, plus the tuning end of her guitar, feature hearts. There's a flower painted around the painted hole in the guitar body. One of the hair ornaments is an ice lolly; the other is an even smaller critter, with a circular body and rabbit-like ears. The guitar and the ice lolly are multiple plastic pieces fitted together: the plate at the base of the guitar strings as well as the tuning block, the white bottom half of the lolly, even the front of its stick is a yellow piece. The hairpiece animal has black painted eye-dots and a raised dot nose; the bear herself has two eyes and a slightly smaller nose, affixed in the traditional manner for small stuffed bears' eyes, but the nose is just a little below the eyes, a snub-nose effect.



Very carefully designed to be irresistably cute, to extract pocket money from little girls—or adult collectors. I suspect she's part of a Japanese line of collectible plushies being sold at Asian malls in the Bay Area. Or maybe she's just a very cannily designed tchotchke produced in such bulk that the detailing doesn't cost too much at all.

Certainly works. Anyone with any nurturing instinct would be drawn to her. But the economic implications make me wince. Remember, she's tiny. (See the book and onions in the background.) She's small enough that she might be meant for a backpack zip or a keychain, but I don't see any sign of a torn-off attachment. And her legs and arms are rudimentary, stiff shapes under the fuzz, probably a plastic frame. This isn't a bear to hug and take to bed, but something to covet, and amass, and leave sitting on a shelf.

She'll go on my shelf now.

We have an electric mower again. For $50, from a hippy/surfer type who works on motorbikes and a disreputable old banger in the street around the corner, and is about to move. Lighter and a bit smaller than the one I wore out, so I was able to get it out of the boot/trunk after he got it stowed in there. I tested it out, spifflicating a strip of the back lawn where there was a lot of foxtail grass.