Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Walk #334: Mustard Blooming?

Napa Valley Mustard blooming on November 30th?

And the red, red leaves of a grape vine...

November 30th, and this is the earliest I have ever seen Mustard blooming. Calistoga has a week long event (The Mustard Festival) which is held in March. Joni tells me that early January is early for the Mustard plant. But November?!

Climate change?

After work, down to the library and a walk around my favorite (in town) vineyard. I stopped off at the optical store to 1. try and fix a broken pair of glasses (no, they don't weld itsy bitsy frames); and 2. to get my eternally crooked glasses straightened.

One of my imperfections is a set of ears that aren't symmetrical. One of these ears (and they seem to be getting bigger--and less effective--as I get older) is lower on my head than the other. It makes for some tricky fitting in the glasses department.

So why not get contacts? Because I will never, ever touch my eyes. Too clumsy to put the buggers in. And secondly, I like wearing glasses. I feel bookish. It adds an ornament to my face. I can hide behind them.

As for laser surgery? No way!

3 comments:

Jacqueline Donnelly said...

I wonder if that mustard is LATE blooming, rather than early? I have seen it in bloom now around here in upstate NY, too. Some plants bloom again when the autumn day-length is the same as when they first bloomed in the spring. Dandelions do this, too.

greentangle said...

Consider yourself in good company--you've got owl ears! Though actually, it makes them hear better.

Allan Stellar said...

Woods,

I have no clue on the mustard...other than it seems to bloom earlier and earlier every year. I doubt it is a late bloomer, due to having gone through the usual five months without rain. I think I'll give Al Gore a call...

Green:

If it makes me hear better, I'd hate to think what my hearing would be like without lopsided ears. Too many years cooped up in small seclusion rooms with screaming clients...

Or maybe it was the rock and roll of my youth (and middle age---and?)

allan