The hardy gardenia bushes that were planted by the home's builder remain unscathed, leading me to suspect them of really being weeds. But that sad thing at the far end, planted by Mr. Lucky, used to be two proud hibiscus bushes that bloomed bright red and yellow flowers. I loved how tall it grew. I still have hope for it, as the branches closest to the house remain green.
Meanwhile, the Mexican petunias went totally south. And then there's my beloved allamanda:
I loved it when Mr. Lucky planted it near the front door. It bloomed with hundreds of sunny yellow flowers all trumpeting good cheer anytime we came up the front walk.
Our once lush St. Augustine lawn, like all the lawns in our subdivision, has turned yellow.
On the upside, our jasmine tree in the backyard is doing just fine. It doesn't get as much sunlight as the front flowerbed and I wonder if that played a role. (Or if it, too, is really a very sophisticated weed of the world.)
I spent the week wearing old sweaters from the 1980's (haven't had much need to buy new ones since then), while the static electricity gave me the same big hair from that decade. I can't say as it made me feel as young as I was back then.
In the sixteen years we've lived in Florida, that week must have been the first time we ran the heat non-stop. Usually when the weather gets cold, we only have to run it in the mornings.
Since I'm originally from the north, I really don't mind the cold weather. I like wearing sweaters and there's something cozy about a house when the heat is on.
But I really mind what it did to my hibiscus and allamanda. Mr. Lucky, on the other hand, is always looking for ways to change around that flowerbed (the battle over the brick border continues to rage), so it's a certainty that while I've lost my golden flowers, he's gained a golden opportunity.