Cacti Corey

You see this campsite?

This is one of the most awesome campsites in the history of the universe, in Westport California, right on the edge of the North American continent. This was in 2007, but Mistah and I stayed at this particular campsite time after time, year after year, because, well, because it's one of the most awesome campsites in the history of the universe.

 This is the view looking at the other direction.

Oh, look, Julie! The table and chair that you ran over!

But, actually, the view of neither the campsite nor the view is important right now.

What *is* important is that little cactus on the table.

You see it? In its little half-a-dixie cup pot?

That little cactus, which we nicknamed Cacti (naturally), traveled with us in the Westy for ages. We got it for free at a little cactus-and-tchotchke shop in Gila Bend, Arizona, and we transported it in our shoe bucket -- a milk crate we traveled around with that held our extra pairs of sneakers, sandals, flip-flops -- which we promptly stored in Jacquie and Bill's garage when we arrived in San Diego and forgot all about.

Whoopsie. Sorry, Cacti.

When we remembered about our poor ol' friend a month later, we fished it out, dusted it off, and put it into one of the drink-holder-depressions in our big green cooler -- nicknamed Big Green (naturally) -- where we hoped it caught the sun's rays as we drove the Westy across the Blue Highways of America.

Of course, Blue Highways are often bumpy roads, and poor ol' Cacti fell off Big Green and onto the Westy floor more times than I'd like to admit, its sand and gravel pooled around it like the train of a wedding gown. Except not as glamorous.

Poor Cacti. But hey, life on the road isn't always easy; nobody ever said it was going to be. Just look at Westy's rust. And our wrinkles.

When we landed in New London, Mistah transplanted Cacti into a proper terra cotta bucket, and Cacti thrived. Summers on the deck, winters in the kitchen, and life was comfortable, and easy, and good.

What more could a transplanted Arizona cactus possibly want, we thought, than grow quietly and happily older with us, in its East Coast home?

But then suddenly, after four years in Connecticut, look what Cacti did last weekend:

That's right. Cacti threw out a couple of weird growths . . .

. . . gorgeously weird growths.

. . . and we wondered, Could it be? . . .

. . . Is it even possible? . . .

Well, yes. Yes it could be, and it is possible.

Here was Cacti on the morning of July 5th, Sailfest Friday:

And here was Cacti later that afternoon . . .

Ta-Da!

Just look at you, Cacti! Look at how beautiful you are!

MB and The Dowd were with us for SailFest, so they got to witness Cacti's gorgeous miracle with us.

In the meantime, Cacti's buddy out there on the deck is our friend Harry:

Jennie gave us Harry for Christmas last year . . .

Oh my Word in Heaven Above 

would you look at what a wee tiny tot Harry was back then?!

Harry was wonderful present, is an awesome succulent, and has been a delightful addition to our family. On SailFest weekend, The Dowd happened to ask what Harry's last name is.

"Corey" I replied, not missing a beat.

Jennie therefore also started calling Cacti, Cacti Corey. Naturally.

Mark asked if Cacti was a boy or a girl.

"A girl!" MB exclaimed. "She's a Corey!"

Cacti Corey bloomed for three days. Friday, Saturday and Sunday of Sailfest weekend. A Sailfest Miracle.

But what, you ask, about that second gorgeously weird growth Cacti sported?

Well, the very following Friday, look what Cacti birthed.

A second flower, just as fantastic as the first.

She blows them out on Friday, when the sun is high and hot . . .

. . . and she blooms for three days, to coincide with our human weekends.

From her humble beginnings buried under shoes in a dark garage, to blowing out the most spectacularly beautiful flowers in the history of Cactaceae, she is a cacti for the ages.

Oh, Cacti Corey. How we love you.