"Rinse and Repeat"

 

Front garden   

            February in San Antonio plays out in a pattern of freezes followed by temperatures nudging close to 80°. Today’s clear day will top out at 83°. Annually, I use President’s Day to mark the first round of fertilizer on the gardens and yards.
            This morning, I’ll check the bin outside that houses the sprayer to see if it contains enough Miracle Grow to cover everything. If I enough, today’s “exercise” will focus on thoroughly watering all the beds with added nourishment. For tomorrow, another projected day of warmth, I’ll determine the best way for me to clear leaves from the front yard as my right knee still pings warnings if I overuse it. I may simply sit in place and use an old, broken rake to clear the areas needing the most work.

On this week's agenda

          The other part of my spring cycle entails checking the nighttime lows for consecutive 60° or above temperatures. Once the warmer nights hit, the plants being green housed inside will move back outside where I’ll assess their need for larger pots. This annual routine signals the return of spring.
         I love the repetition of life as I move from one season to the next. The reprise becomes my ritual now etched into my daily habits.  Rinse and repeat, year after year, brings comfort to me.

 

Waiting for warm nights

Copyright 2023 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

I use my love of gardening with its hard work and rituals to handle Life's stresses. I also use music!

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“Schrödinger's Cat”

My Schrödinger's cat moment plays out in real time. 

Under the frost cloth out back sits perfect and healthy Aloe Vera. Their spiky leaves reach skyward with expectant dignity. The cluster of pups surrounding the larger mama eagerly await  new spots in pots for this spring. They hold all of the promise of words like “future, growth, optimism, hope”. 

Or . . . they don’t. 

Once I lift their protective cover, I could find the bitter cold of these past few days has turned them into mush and slime. All of my plans and optimism destroyed by nature’s cruelty. 

So I’ve decided to leave the protective cover in place and not take a peek under it. What I don’t definitely know can’t hurt me, right? 

This ability to hope for the best while I prepare for the worst sums up how I live life not just my gardens, but in other crucial decisions and relationships. At the moment, I can live with a frost cover on some friendships as I grapple with their continued silence. If I don’t contact them, I cannot know for certain if they condone this lawless cruelty. They are Schrödinger’s cat.

Copyright 2026 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

I think I'm swimming in doubt. Thought I'd share IOUNIO's "Swimming" with today's post. 

“Outside In”

In anticipation of today’s empty the greenhouse project, I woke up before my alarm. Shifting a few small pieces of furniture in the living room and strategizing the best way to protect a bathroom shelf, I patted myself on the back for picking up heavy duty aluminum foil last night. It took a few minutes to wrap the wood with wax paper and foil to provide a surface secure from any water spillage. 

The next problem, bringing in the huge ferns, was solved by a strong back and wheelbarrow power. Eight mother-in-law tongues took up more of the front room while our bathroom added some hanging baskets and a shelf of Jade. It didn’t take me too long to bring in various pots into the living room. 

The greenhouse received spider plants and purple hearts, both hardy enough to handle more than a single day of freezing temperatures. I threw in the cushions from our lounge chairs and some outdoor pillows to help retain some warmth in the small structure. 

We will leave the frost cloths off of everything until this evening. At the moment, light rain saturates everything. I’m taking advantage of it, and the current temperature of 67° to let everything  soak and breathe before the freeze hits. 

Copyright 2026 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Cold Front— 2026”

Our first major cold front looms in the immediate future. Although we’ve had a few nights with temperatures ducking down into the 30s, they’ve been followed immediately by warm enough nights and days for me to leave our outside plants alone. Some days I’ve pulled back the frost covers to water or allow rain to nourish my large collection of Aloe Veras and newly planted gardens in both yards. Our little greenhouse tucked in the back holds more sensitive plants that can survive a dip now and then, but the little structure can’t handle the stack of cold weather days forecasted for the rest of this week. 

The last few winters, we’ve experienced back-to-back freezing rain, ice, or even snow. I’ve run the scenario through my head on what comes in and where it goes. Yesterday, I shifted furniture around to accommodate our large ferns first. We will pack other plants around them in the front room next to the best source of natural light in that room. The family room, already adorned with inside greenery will crowd in about four or five more plants. I emptied our bathroom, too, to prepare for the smaller pots. 

As we’ll have warmer temperatures with rain for the next two days, I’ll leave the gardens uncovered to take advantage of tomorrow’s promised rain before securing their protective cloths over them before the first cold front of 2026 whips into Texas. 

Copyright 2026 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Music to listen to as you read today!

"Frostbite"

 

 

            Cold weather blasts into central Texas so infrequently that waking up to a morning with frost dusting any surface provides a spectacular photography opportunity. When I ventured outside this morning with the dogs, frost coated the top of our hot tub. Its sparkle drew my eyes, and I rushed back inside to grab my camera to capture a few shots before the morning sunlight heats the cover and melts away our evidence of last night’s freeze.

 

           



I know many of you sit frozen into place by mountains of snow, and you’ll probably look at these jewels and think, “No big deal.” However, I like pausing in the daily grind just long enough to celebrate Nature’s subtleties.

 

Copyright 2014 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Blessing in Disguise"

 

New couch with new floors!

            Before my dad died, he installed off-white carpet throughout their home to offset the richly dark paneling that walled their home, a typical decorating style in the late 1970s. Only three adults lived in the house, and he figured the more expensive Berber carpet would last for many years.  After he died, Mom moved to an apartment in San Antonio, leaving my brother alone in the home. My brother tended to enter his house through the garage, which meant the area next to that door became an eyesore.

White painted cabinets we did!

            We spent many visits with my brother fixing and refreshing odds-n-ends around his home. Sometimes we focused on yardwork out back. We spent many days with paint brushes in hand when Mom talked my sister and me into painting the dark kitchen cabinets white. I tackled the first round of decluttering the garage, and my brother helped me paint his bedroom a soft blue. We bought a carpet cleaner, but it never seemed to handle the trail that tracked Charles’s footsteps from garage to his bedroom.

            We debated ripping up just the carpet in the hallway, the highest traffic area. After tiling our entire home in San Antonio, we toyed with the idea of taking a couple of weeks off to rip out the off-white nightmare to install tile floors into every room of Charles’s home. This labor intensive project, once we ran the numbers, proved too expensive as a gift for my brother. We shoved the ugly carpet out of our minds and focused on funding his property taxes and car repairs instead.

            Around this time in 2021, a huge ice storm devastated Texas homes and businesses. My brother spent a huge part of the crisis staying at work and in a hotel room his boss rented for employees who had freeze damage. One pipe burst in the master bathroom that flooded Charles’s entire home. When he finally entered his home, it was to find water in the garage and every room of the hideous carpet sopping wet. He entered a nightmare of the scope he’d never handled alone. My sister found a wonderful, reliable general contractor who understood my brother’s limitations. She ripped out the carpet within hours, oversaw the plumber as he repaired the burst pipes, and with her camera documented damage for the insurance claim.

            As the entire state competed for supplies, it took months for the floors Charles selected to arrive. Sheetrock, something usually stacked several feet high at hardware stores, didn’t become available until June in his area. Bit-by-bit, the contractor moved from room to room installing the new floors Charles selected. He wanted tile, not wood. Another flood hitting his home won’t translate into floor damage!

            This month, we passed the anniversary of that terrible storm. Although the experience almost stressed my brother to his limits, he speaks of how much he loves the new floors. As he lived through the disaster, he felt overwhelmed. Now, though, he speaks of it as a blessing in disguise. His home became his haven.

Spare bedroom with new floors!

Copyright 2023 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Happy Call”

            When my phone rang early on Saturday morning, and I saw it was my brother, I hesitated before answering. The first thought hitting my brain went straight to, “What’s wrong now?” That dread roots itself in a rough year of catastrophe.

            I tried to coach my voice into a neutral, “Hi” because I try to protect Charles from the anxiety his calls often trigger.

            “What’s up?” he asked.

            “Me!” I quipped back as soon as I registered his tone of voice.

          “I’m treating myself to breakfast—an omelet. Then I’m going shopping.” His voice sounded upbeat for a change. We chatted back and forth for about half an hour about the new kitchen plates he picked up last week and his planned visit to my sister’s house next weekend. We talked about the ice that froze San Antonio a few days before and his relief that the frozen snap didn’t impact his newly insulated plumbing down in League City.

            Everything we talked about was light, bright and breezy. Getting a happy call is so rare that I found myself writing about it today. But . . . maybe this will be what 2022 brings to our family.

 

Stressed at Christmas 2021

Happy Charles 2014

Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman             

“Ice”

 

            Grabbed my camera yesterday to document yesterday’s rare weather event—ICE! My friends and family living in northern regions experience winter’s wonders with nonchalance, but for those of us in the south, we pause to marvel at the beauty of frost, snow or ice.

Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman