The end has arrived. It was time to purge the agave before it became rigid and too tough to cut. The blooms hosted bees, honey birds and some butterflies.
When the stalk fell, a mild sweet fragrance filled the air.
Pieces cut to fit the green waste mounded on the ground.
Then each was stabbed with a pitch fork and dropped in the bin.
Smaller pieces were scooped in.
Few pieces wait for next week’s trash collection day.
Check out the close-up bloom. Each of those tiny tennacles were feeding zones for all the flying critters that hovered around the blooms once they opened. After sitting in the sun for several days, there was no fragrance, and no visiting creatures. This piece will join its kin in the bin next week.
I hope you’ve enjoyed this marvel of nature with me.
We’ve yet to determine what will be planted in the agave’s former location. But the next selection will take into consideration the little bridge and mature size of the plant.
Thanks for watching this amazing transition with me. It’s not over yet, but we’re getting closer to the end. I expected the flowers to bloom before the death cycle became evident. So, future photos will have fewer leaves on the bottom, and perhaps there will be yellow flowers. Or not…
Change is coming. Last week I thought this plant looked different. Then decided, maybe not. By Saturday, I knew a bloom was coming. The gardener remembers planting this agave 30 years ago.
I’ve heard the bloom growth is phenomenally fast. The following displays what can happen in only two days.
Besides growing fast, the blooms are supposed to be spectacular. Expect periodic photo updates.
It will be fun to watch, and a wee bit bittersweet. With the bloom, comes death. It will be sad to loose this plant as it is a showcase specimen on the pathway to a patio area. Perhaps it’ll spawn another.
We arrived home yesterday after spending the weekend celebrating the final summer holiday for 2019. Friends, who have an off-grid cabin and host an annual pig roast picnic on their property invited us for the weekend. After enjoying good food with fine companions, we settled in to enjoy a night high in the mountains complete with campfires and great conversation.
We arrived in Galway, checked into our apartment and headed to the store to pick up a few things so we could fix breakfast the next morning. By Irish standards it was a large store. We made our selections and were walking down the produce isle when an elderly man approached me. He was neatly dressed and wearing an old leather hat. He spoke with a heavy brogue and had to repeat himself several times. Tom and I realized at the same time what he was saying. He inquired of me, if he could exchange hats with my husband. Tom wanted to know why I was being asked instead of him. The gentleman replied that he knew Tom would say no, but perhaps I’d be willing to work the exchange. I laughed saying I kinda liked my husband in his hat. We all laughed. As he turned to walk away, he told us he was just making fun.
Between Ireland and England, several people approached Tom and asked about his hat. No one had an offer as good as the gentleman in the grocery store.
We had just stepped off the tube one night and were walking toward the exit. There was a gust of wind. I felt my hat move and grabbed it quickly. I mentioned I almost lost my hat. Tom said he saw that. As we continued walking toward the stairs another train blew through the station on the tracks in the opposite direction and Tom’s hat went flying. We were unsuccessful in rescuing it, before it fell into the tracks. We had nothing long enough to retrieve it. After checking the schedule and seeing we had a couple of minutes before the next train was schedule to arrive, Tom carefully lowered himself down to the walkway at the track level, retrieved his hat and scurried back up to the walk level. I breathed a sign of relief when he was standing beside me again. We were on our way up the stairs when the next train came through the station.