I Ask You: Where Are My Toad Lilies? Hmmm?

October 1, 2015October 1, 2015 / Ally Bean / 20 Comments

• I allowed myself to hope.

When it comes to gardening, I’m usually more cerebral than heartfelt.

I don’t assume that just because I plant something, it’ll thrive. Instead, I focus on those plants that get with the program and grow.

Like this cute little tree in the concrete urn that I can see out the window from our study.

• But there’s something missing from this photo.

Around the base of this cute little tree there are supposed to be 5 toad lilies, which I bought last spring for an outrageous amount of money from an allegedly honest garden nursery catalogue [which I’m not linking to here because I don’t want to advertise for the company].

• I know that toad lilies can grow here.

Years ago, before the front planting beds were re-landscaped, there was a thriving toad lily in this exact location.

That’s why I planted them, right there, uniformly around the base of the concrete urn, anticipating autumnal beauty whilst gazing out my window.

• But do you, gentle readers, see any thriving toad lilies?

Or do you, like me, see one scraggly looking wisp of a plant, barely hanging onto life?

That, my friends, is what $60.00 will get you when you dare to believe the copy in a catalogue. A catalogue that should be named: A Sucker Is Born Every Minute Garden & Nursery Store Catalogue For The Easily Gullible.

Because, really, that’s what the catalogue is all about.

Or so it would seem to me, Ms. Gullible.

We Didn’t Fit In, But We Had A Good Time: Go Bucks!

September 29, 2015July 1, 2025 / Ally Bean / 21 Comments

If you go to OSU, the only red that counts is SCARLET.

On Saturday afternoon we joined our closest 105,000 “friends” and went to a Ohio State football game. The game was in Ohio Stadium, aka The Shoe, which is on the National Registry of Historic Places. It is located on The Ohio State University main campus, which is in Columbus, OH.

The Shoe was packed.

After exiting from the highway, getting to our parking place, which was beside The Shoe, was an adventure in dodging ~~drunk~~ psyched fans, driving hither & yon on surface streets– and highlighted by a bomb squad checkpoint.

We passed.

~ ~ • ~ ~

Gray, however, is GRAY regardless of your OSU allegiance.

Then getting to our seats on a box level, accessible via huge dual-door elevators, turned into a lark. Fortunately the arena’s staff kept us laughing all along the way, as we two confused outsiders tried to find our box.

Very pleasant people.

The OSU marching band, aka The Best Damn Band in the Land, did script Ohio, which I maintain is the real reason anyone goes to these football games. And the home team won. So all was good.

Yay football.

~ ~ • ~ ~

Here’s my takeaway:

Every person who attended this event, except us, was wearing team colors, scarlet & gray. I MEAN EVERYONE. And though no one dissed us for not having any team merchandise on our bodies, I felt odd about it.

I’m not one to wear showy clothes, nor have I ever felt comfortable in team apparel, so despite wanting to be part of the group, I couldn’t bring myself to spend monies on any of the ~~over-priced~~ shirts, hats, shorts, sweatshirts, scarves, et cetera, that were available for purchase.

This wasn’t a problem, but it’s an observation that marketing has taken over the game. Meaning that looking the part of a fan is now as important as, if not more important than, being a fan.

This reality made for a visually weird overly enthusiastic-looking crowd of people wearing, what they hoped was scarlet but in actuality was multiple shades of red, emblazoned with the iconic Block O.

Fans? Perhaps. Followers? Definitely.

~ ~ • ~ ~

When Good Grapefruit Has Bad Marketing

September 24, 2015January 28, 2021 / Ally Bean / 35 Comments

To your left you will see a photo of half a grapefruit, on a pretty white bread & butter plate, plus the label off the sturdy red mesh bag it came in.

This grapefruit, purchased at the local K. Roger, is not as humongous as many of the grapefruits available, nor is it as intensely pink in color as most of the individually sold grapefruits.

It was tasty. Easy to section. Juicy, but not overly so. With just the right amount of sweetness.

# # #

But here’s the weird thing about this grapefruit. Just like Proust’s madeleines, this grapefruit stimulated long-lost memories from my childhood.

It reminded me of being an elementary school-age girl. Sitting at home in my parents’ warm kitchen while eating breakfast at the old, slightly wobbly, wooden drop-leaf table. Listening to the local AM radio “Quickie Quiz” show. Wondering what I’d be doing at recess later in the morning.

So considering the effect that this grapefruit had on me, I’m left wondering what marketing genius came up with the idea to name this product:

NOT your MOTHER’S Grapefruit.

# # #

Putting aside the stupid inconsistent capitalization of the letters of the product’s name, if there was ever a fruit whose essence reminded me positively of my past, it would be these grapefruits.

And considering that grapefruits are pretty much the same old fruit now that they were 40 years ago, I’m irritated with the somewhat passive aggressive marketing message that I’ll be an old fuddy duddy if I don’t buy these particular grapefruits.

I understand that times change, but I gotta wonder how it could be that bad-mouthing grapefruit is the key to more sales. Does that even make sense?

As Autumn Arrives A Legend Returns: Hello Fuzzy The Squirrel!

September 22, 2015September 22, 2015 / Ally Bean / 27 Comments

• The squirrels have been scarce around our yard all summer, allowing me to grow pots of petunias, and now pansies, unbothered on our deck.

• So imagine my surprise yesterday afternoon when I saw Fuzzy the Squirrel on our deck for the first time in months. I’d begun to wonder if he was still around.

• Naturally he was causing trouble, indulging his appetite for destruction in the right-hand pot, while prudently avoiding my new cute jack-o-lantern decorative spike thingie.

• To his credit, once he realized that I spied him, he tried to hide from me behind one of the pots, while pretending that nothing untoward had happened to my petunia.

• Then taking a different approach to destruction, our friend, Fuzzy the Squirrel, began digging into the left-hand pot while I watched.

• However, I’m happy to say that he quickly became bored with the whole idea of ruining my pretty Halloween tableau.

• He jumped up onto the deck railing where he purveyed our forested backyard… where he should be, imho.

• Then turning my way for one last photo, he posed so that I might snap him next to my new cute jack-o-lantern decorative spike thingie… which he better not damage. Or else.

~ THE END ~