alone in the bee-loud glade

Greetings and salutations, everyone; yes, once again it is I, your popular host, Mani the purebred border collie, here today because, well, because. You may remember me from such posts as “Not Quite Like Me”, among so many, many others.

Here I am in a characteristic pose. It was the camera that was slanted, not me. Well, the guy I live with felt kind of odd about showing a bunch of pictures with snow in them in the last post, and so here’s a post with no snow at all.

And also, this is like super-weird, the Outlook program that we use for email was getting a lot of spam, so the guy I live with created some rules, as they say, and so all the spam went into the trash, but now, all the comments from WordPress are going into the trash too, so he has to look for them, instead of them just being there, if you know what I mean.

Not much happened today.  The garden isn’t very green, but it never really is ultra-green by anyone else’s standards.The one thing that is happening, though, and it’s pretty noticeable, is what I might call an invasion of bees. Honeybees. The back yard is alive with them; you can hear them buzzing when you walk around. There are hundreds of bees. I sometimes like to snack on them but there are so many.
They’re mostly interested in the puschkinias. There are a lot of puschkinias.
And on the tulips, too. There are lots of corydalises in flower too. The guy I live with says it’s corydalis. (Really “corydales”. Nobody says that.)
Corydalis angustifolia has seeded all over the garden. It smells like vanilla cake. I’ve never had vanilla cake but the guy I live with says that’s a good way to describe it. Then there’s Corydalis ruksansii. This picture isn’t in focus, but the guy I live with couldn’t bend down to take the picture.One of many different forms of Corydalis glaucescens. It’s pinker than the picture shows, but really is growing at a slant like that. It’s on a slope. Well, maybe sort of. The guy I live with has been trying to get pictures of these and none have turned out.  Some of the forms are already done flowering. Corydalis schanginii subsp. schanginii has just started.Some other pictures. This is Colchicum hungaricum ‘Valentine’, flowering in one of the frames. The flowers are pinker than they look. I’m not sure what the issue with pink is.  This could really be more in focus but the guy I live with hasn’t mastered focusing with the phone. Sometimes he thinks everything is absolutely focused and then he finds out it isn’t. That’s another one of those metaphors we could do without.
The white form of Crocus tommasinianus in one of the shadiest spots in the yard.Fuzzy pulsatillas. There used to be a lot more pulsatillas in the garden than there are now. After the guy I live with’s wife died, a lot of plants weren’t taken care of like they should have been. It does make him sad to think of all the plants that used to be here; gentians, androsaces, pulsatillas, and so on. Thinking about the way things were. But we both still like the garden.Fritillaria pallidiflora coming up through leaves of Cyclamen cilicium. Oh. I was about to let you go, but then I realized that I hadn’t even talked about one of the most important things here. Pretty major, really.
You may recall a post I made just last October called “A Discovery”, well, you might like to know that we have a pretty good supply of microwave popcorn now. Both Newman’s Own and Orville Redenbacher’s. (There’s even more in a box downstairs.)
Flowers are okay and stuff, but there’s no comparison to having a plentiful supply of popcorn. I don’t think I get my fair share, but the guy I live with says that I do.
I guess you can tell that things are not totally terrible here.

The guy I live with has been watching The Simpsons, starting at the third season, and it hasn’t been all that easy for him, but he’s also been enjoying the episodes. He said he remembered when he and Cindy first saw each episode and that’s been bittersweet. He went downstairs to the studio to get the DVDs of the seventh season, which had been sitting there since she died. That was a bit of a peculiar feeling.
And he also realized that Troy McClure said “You might remember me” and wondered how he could have gotten that wrong, but it’s too late to go back and change every single post. Or even this one. Maybe you didn’t realize that that was an homage to The Simpsons, and to his wife who loved the show so much.

So whatever. That’s our motto. We have popcorn. And things are weird. 


Until next time, then.









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37 Responses to alone in the bee-loud glade

  1. barbk52 says:

    Popcorn and The Simpsons. Not so bad. And then you can step out and look at flowers and bees. Not so bad. I am interested in the vanilla cake Corydalis Angustiflolia but didn’t see a source although I didn’t look very hard. It’s easier to ask you. You look pleased with yourself in the top photo, Mani.

    • paridevita says:

      It was a pretty nice day yesterday so I was pretty pleased just being me.
      The corydalis was a gift, many years ago. It has seeded everywhere, even worse than Corydalis solida.
      We have both Newman’s Own and Orville Redenbacher. I don’t have a preference, though the latter is butterier. (I think that’s not a word.) The guy I live with said that that Mr. Redenbacher didn’t invent popcorn like some people think but he did a lot of hybridizing so he was a kind of gardener, I guess.

  2. ceci says:

    Your garden pictures are a refreshment to the spirit, as are you of course. And how fortunate to have so many bees; I have been watching for them here but no luck so far, except for the delightful carpenter bees who are as big around as my thumb and bumble around eating the wooden trim on the house. I’m so glad we didn’t get treated wood!

    Our dog is on a no vanilla cake regimen too.


    • paridevita says:

      Thanks; there aren’t any bees today because it’s 21 degrees and everything is frozen. “So much for spring”, I heard someone say.
      It’s supposed to warm up again in a couple of days but it really is too cold here much too often.
      It was misting this morning. We have mist here maybe once every five years but this time the temperature kept dropping so everything is coated with a fine film of ice. Brr.

  3. christine says:

    You have popcorn and your boon companion and the beauty that surrounds you. And knowing that we are all in this together. Peace.

    • paridevita says:

      Thanks; the guy I live with says that we are all connected and even though that sounded like “just a thing” to me it really is true.

  4. tonytomeo says:

    Are Puschkinias from Oz? Didn’t they instruct Dorothy to follow the Yellow Brick Road?

  5. Anybody with a jar of Lao Gan Ma Chili Crisp Sauce in their pantry has to be good people! Lovely flowers too!

  6. Lisa says:

    Things look lovely in your garden, Mani. Your title is a line from my father’s favorite poem, and it brings back memories for me! When I was 13 we traveled to Ireland and may have seen the island mentioned, or at least my father said we’d say it was! The poem always make me so sad, not just because my father is no longer with me, but because he really would have liked to love “alone in the bee-loud glade,” but life happens. Just like now.
    The Simpsons early episodes are gems! Not so much the past years.
    Keep well, both of you.

    • paridevita says:

      Thanks, though as I mentioned in another comment everything is frozen now.
      It is strange how life happens. The guy I live with sometimes talks to his wife, you know, and tells her that he feels like he’s now out in the middle of this huge field, with me, and it’s the year 2020, and there’s a global pandemic, and that if there were sirens going off everywhere it would seem like a really bad science fiction movie from the 1950s or 60s.
      The guy I live with purchased some of the later seasons of The Simpsons, digital versions, and they’re nice, but nothing like say seasons three through ten.
      I just heard “I hate every ape I see, from chimpan A to chimpan Z; They’ll never make a monkey out of me” on the tv, the Planet of the Apes one, and I could tell how that affected him, tears, remembering when he and his wife first watched that episode, laughing and laughing. But he’s enjoying them too.

  7. Mew mew mew now wee understand ’bout THE ‘bee-loud’ garden Mani!!! That sure iss alot Beess! An such purrty flowress all over yore garden; iss a purrydise!
    Wee saw those ‘pushykin flowerss’ on another frendss post….furry kewl.
    An LadyMew slapped her forehead an said That’ss where mee herd THAT frase bee-fore!” THE you mite reememburr mee from such postss…do not change it Mani’ iss purrfect tHE way it iss!
    Thanx fore yore cheery bloggie post an keepin our spiritss up!
    ***purrss*** BellaDharma

    • paridevita says:

      Thanks. It snowed yesterday so things aren’t all that cheery.
      The guy I live with said that when Troy McClure married Aunt Selma he said “You may remember me” a lot. The guy I live with’s wife was from Minnesota and she would end sentences with “then” so you can see I do another little homage right at the end, even though it wasn’t my idea; the guy I live with said to do it.
      You can get puschkinias anywhere but they are pretty much totally out of control here. In maybe a good way.

  8. Love the first two garden photos, and all the flowers that follow. You must too, dear Mani, because you look close to ecstasy in your characteristic portrait. And, oh! that cupboard contains most every condiment recommended by my on-line foodie sites. I’m envious. Of course, we ourselves keep the Hatch chilies and popcorn. Orville retired here to a condo tower by the sea and became a man about town. Drove a huge luxury car and was a menace in the supermarket parking lot. Saw him a lot, always smiling, and he made us smile. Never caught real-life sight of Mr. Newman. I hope the guy you live with is receiving his food intake from somewhere if he himself is not cooking. I know he is vigilant about feeding you, you are such a happy creature. Both of you stay healthy.

    • paridevita says:

      Thanks. I guess I would have to say, personally, you know, and not totally objectively or anything, that I like Orville Redenbacher’s the best. It’s so…buttery. I like butter. A lot. It was something I didn’t know before this. The guy I live with says it comes from “cows”, whatever that means. He said he might take me to see some “cows” some time.
      He’s not doing much cooking at all. There’s this place called “Tamale Kitchen” that he gets food from. It’s not too far away. I hear that all of this food ordered and delivering from stores is kind of expensive, because the guy I live with insists on tipping kind of hugely. He says that we’re here, just here, but that there are people who can’t just sit at home, and so they deserve some recognition, you might say.
      Things are weird. That’s our motto.

  9. What a thing to find out that quotation was a little bit misquoted!
    I only have one blue corydalis, maybe Pere David. I wonder if it is fragrant? I hope I remember to check tomorrow.

    • paridevita says:

      Well it turns out that it was both “you may” and “you might”.
      The guy I live with says that when people think of corydalis they generally think of the woodland ones, which these are definitely not.
      There are some woodland ones here but they’ve just started flowering and from what I hear they might be totally wrecked by the 16F lows we’re expecting this weekend. (I bet you can imagine the moaning and groaning here.)

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