Night-blooming cereus, part 2

I almost missed the first bud! Thank goodness for intuition. I woke up at 4:30 this morning thinking it might hail. I got up and put my car in the garage. As my feet were wet from going out, I went into the laundry room to dry them off. Hmm, maybe I should check the cereus...

Yikes! One of the three buds had bloomed!

Here's what it looked like yesterday in the late afternoon:




And here's what it looked like at 4:30, in the rain (and me without my glasses):




There will definitely be another post about this plant.

Home from Choctaw

I keep telling Joe Fish that he wouldn't really want to go with me on these trips, even if I could take him. What would he have done at the Oktoberfest in Choctaw, Oklahoma?

They moved the Kinder Zelt (Children's Tent) from its quiet space of last year to the main thoroughfare as folks came into the festival, just past the booths for food and beer tickets.

Behind the Kinder Zelt was a big field. At one end were bouncy houses and a giant bungee contraption. Closer to the Kinder Zelt was where on Friday they put up a hot air balloon (have you ever heard those burners? LOUD!) and on Saturday they had a classic car show.

The oompah music was only a little louder than last year, nothing like the sound bleed of the Irish Festival last week. Once again, the Kinder Zelt offered crafts, facepainting (I'm not convinced that acrylic paint is appropriate), sack races, egg and spoon races, hula hoop demonstrations. There was a helium tank for the high school students to fill balloons and make funny voices.

Oh, yes, and storytelling. Fortunately, I had some focused listeners, and the sound system provided was good. On Friday, there were two three-year-olds in particular who listened intently for a long time. On Saturday some of the youngest German dancers came to listen between their sets on the main stage. I officiated at most of the competitions, when I was on break from telling stories. I told German stories, along with other European folktales and stories from books.

It was far from an ideal setup for storytelling. I was crabby about it earlier, but after writing this, I remember that some of it was quite fun.

At the end of Saturday, I was wiped out. I dined on smoked bratwurst with spicy mustard, red cabbage and a dark beer while I watched the dancing.

I heard one fellow ask another if he was going to join in the chicken dance. "I can't." Long pause. "I'm not wearing a belt and my pants might fall down." When that dance was over, the band struck up "On the bayou," that classic German ballad. I wish I had pictures of one couple I was watching--they were quite good, well synchronized with lots of fancy moves, but the man looked like he was roping a steer! It wasn't just because he was wearing cowboy boots, either.

If I'd taken Joe Fish, he would have cowered somewhere, maybe in the booth where they sold giant beer steins and tee shirts, or maybe under the strudel booth. And he would have hated the six-hour drive there and back.

Night-blooming cereus

My night-blooming cereus is on the verge of flowering again. Last year I was out of town when it happened. I'm hoping it blooms while I'm here. This is how big the buds were on Saturday:

On Monday:


Wednesday:


Here's the whole plant:


The flowers bloom only for one night. They put out an incredibly strong yet delicate scent that can fill my whole house. Last time I was home for one, at 7:00 p.m., it didn't look like it was going to happen that night. By 9:00 p.m., the blossom had opened completely. It's like watching time-lapse photography in real time!

The key to having these bloom, I've read, is to treat them badly. I've had this plant up on the railing all summer. It has southwestern exposure. I water it occasionally, but mostly just leave it alone. The other NBC I have is a different variety--that's the one from a cutting off my grandmother's plant. I haven't had a blossom on that one in about 12 years.

Festivals again

I performed at the Kansas City Irish Festival last weekend.



Festivals are a mixed bag. My favorites are storytelling festivals, because the sponsors usually understand what the deal is. They realize that storytelling isn't background music. They know that it's counterproductive to have the storytellers next to the petting zoo, or the fountains where children are allowed to play.


At the KCIF, I was facing the main music stage, next to these fountains, with my back to a wall shared by the children's facepainting and crafts. My sound system was good, so the audience could hear me, but the sound bleed from the music stage was so overpowering I could barely hear myself. I'm usually fine with distractions, but in this case I felt like I did a mediocre job. Sigh.

Next weekend I'll be at the Choctaw (Oklahoma) Oktoberfest. No, it's not a Native American festival--the town of Choctaw has a big German festival every year. Last year 35,000 people attended. At this festival, the storytelling stage is also in the children's activity tent, but it's far enough away from the music that all I hear is oompah in the background. I had a great time there last year, except for some car trouble.

I do lots of people watching at festivals. In KC, there were lots of men in utilikilts, children with temporary Celtic tattoos, women wearing "Kiss me, I'm Irish" tee shirts. At the Oktoberfest, I'll see plenty of lederhosen and dirndls, maybe some Tyrolean hats. Both festivals feature beer prominently (not for me, not while I'm working). I had a corned beef sandwich at the Irish festival. I'm sure I'll have bratwurst at the German festival.

At the Smoky Hill River Festival in Salina, I always have an Indian taco. That one is a huge arts fest, not tied to a certain ethnicity, and I always have fun there. Here I am in Salina this past June with my friend Mavis. She's the one on the left.