The Frost is in the Llama

I don’t know why we said it or where the expression came from, but when the weather turned and we saw the frost on the grass, we used to say, “The frost is on the pumpkin.” That’s what I thought when I looked outside this morning and saw Zephie cushed in the emerging morning sun. Her ears are up because she’s focusing on the sounds of yipping coyotes. The dogs are the other sound you can’t see – they’re frantically and authoritatively barking, demanding the offenders leave. The coyotes don’t care – they’re on the other side of the fence. It’s all about jurisdiction.

Two days ago it was still an Indian Summer. This morning it is definitely Fall. The llamas are in their element. The evil hot days of summer are passed. They were doing the air spitting thing just before I rushed in to get ready for work. I always rush to get ready for work.

Inside the house, the Christmas cactus is kinda pushing the season, doncha think? I’ve had this plant since I moved to Reno from Sacramento in 1975. It has been larger at times but it has suffered animal trauma on numerous occasions. My mother started it in a teacup, the spring propped up with a salad fork. At the time it seemed like no big deal, but she loved her houseplants and I’m so pleased to still have this part of a plant that she cultivated.

This is such an unusual color. The starter came from our elderly neighbor and I’m also pleased to have this part of her in our home. She was one of the first to move out to our valley, going on 30 years ago. We held an open house just three weeks after we moved into the house – we were so excited to be here. Our neighbor came and brought us photos of the valley and our parcel, pictures she had taken when she first moved out here. The photos are upstairs in an album, but I get to see her plant everyday and I'm honored.