Blurred Nasturtium

Rather than blurred, I think this nasturtium looks a bit impressionistic, does anyone agree? I'm not sure exactly what the camera focused on; doesn't really matter. I love this plant and the flowers it produces. They are edible and a beautiful garnish on a salad plate. I know, I've seen them in pictures. Okay, once in a while I do put them on a salad plate here at home and then have to put-up with Mr. Fun's joking around.

Nasturtium doesn't really cause me to think of salad, it causes me to think of the beach and to think of Grammie Teele; she lived at the beach. Almost every beach city in southern California has a blanket of Nasturtium clinging to a sandy knoll near the water's edge. The sight of it always brings good feelings. Not as good as a macaroon in the Laguna Beach bakery, but none-the-less, good. Maybe because when I was a little girl and I would spend hours at Grammie Teele's house, which was a lovely combo of country and beach; she had an acre of land in a neighborhood surrounded by other people's acres of land and most of them were growing avocado trees or citrus and all of their properties had a undergarment of nasturtium plants that seemed to always have flowers.

Grammie Teele's home was like comfort food. My life at home, while I don't ever remember it being hostile or dysfunctional, must have had a strong scent of insecurity; Mom and Dad divorced when I was so young that I don't remember them ever living together. Grammie's place just seemed to bring a comfort so subtle but so nourishing that today, many years later, every thought of Grammie's house is lovely.

She and Grandpa slept in separate bedrooms, which seemed a little strange (even back then) (I can't imagine living in a separate bedroom from Mr. Fun, well maybe when he is being a real brat). Anyway, Grammie and Grandpa always had separate bedrooms and Grammie's bedroom was the most special place. She had beautiful twin beds that we loved to sleep in and a vanity that had a mirror with two side mirrors that we could reposition so we could see ourselves from many angles. She had wonderful cosmetics, I was especially fascinated by her facial powder that she would apply with a brush.

Mornings in the kitchen, we were greeted with Grammie and Grandpa having their ritual glass of very warm water with fresh squeezed lemon. Occasionally she made one for me and my sister, and then we felt very special. If breakfast included just myself, my sis, and the two of them, she would make porridge and we got to use fresh honey from a Mason jar to sweeten it. If my mom and stepdad were spending the weekend or my dad and stepmom, then Grammie would cook bacon, eggs, potatoes, homemade biscuits, and a plate of fresh fruit. Mornings at "the Ranch" as my dad called the place, are huge in my memory.

Once the day started, wandering through the undergrowth of the avocado trees, building forts, and stomping down tall weeds to carve paths, were the routine fun, and we were surrounded in the growth of wild nasturtium.

Nasturtium grows here at Funville until the heat of summer blazes. Then the plant withers and dies. It prefers the cooler climate near the ocean.

Good night from Southern California.
Rosie (& Mr. Fun), aka Carol

P.S. Tomorrow the new storage sheds get stuffed. I had planned to show their insides for my blip today and then this nasturtium stole the show. So maybe I'll blip the insides first thing in the morning, before we baptize them with boxes of stuff.