October 8--George H. H. Huey, Claret Cup Cactus. The transformation was unbelievable. Rissa stood on the trail staring at what had looked like nothing but rocks and cactus the day before. Fifteen minutes of rain last night, twenty minutes more just before sunrise, and everything had changed. What had been low green blobs with tangles of long yellow needles had blossomed with dark red cups of flowers with fuzzy yellow centers. Bees busied from flower to flower, dusted with golden pollen grains, humming to themselves. Geckos licked up drops of the precious rain and displayed, flaring their orange necks to attract mates.
Cold blew in on the wind yesterday afternoon. It was so cold that I closed all the windows (and I hate to do that) and even got up at 4:30 to turn on the furnace and find another blankie to throw over myself. I put the wool blanket on this morning and plugged Durwood's side in so he can toast himself. We're meeting friends for brunch in an hour so I've got to wrap this up so I can hit "Publish" before I leave. Who knows? We may decide to head out for a road trip instead of coming home later. I'm hoping and praying that Hurricane Matthew decides to turn east away from the NC coast today so my Aunt B's house just gets things blown around it and nothing is damaged. Fingers crossed too.
--Barbara
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