Nature’s Geometry: Succulents

It looks like I finally am finished doing the final editing and design layout for Jeff Moore’s fourth book, Spiny Succulents. It only took all of February, March, April, May, and June!

Now that I’m finished, I am endeavoring to write my own book. Originally I was going to title it Nature’s Geometry: Flora. However, after doing a presentation on Nature’s Geometry: Succulents on June 22 for the Palomar Cactus & Succulent Society in Escondido, California, I realized that I actually can make three books out of the Nature’s Geometry subject: Succulents, Flora, and Fauna. I could even exclude people from Fauna and do a fourth book on People & Their Creations.

I have started fifty books previously. Chapter 1 is complete in all of them. I just couldn’t decide where to go with Chapter 2, so I gave up. With Nature’s Geometry: Succulents, I don’t have that problem because my Powerpoint presentation for Palomar C&SS is my outline. So it’s just a matter of writing the text, which was my narration for the Powerpoint presentation, and formatting the text and pictures for an 8½” x 8½” square book.

I already created the cover, which I think will help me go forward. Looks like this:

I also have written the Dedication. Many readers probably know who I am dedicating the book to.

I hope to have this book completed by August 1, which I think is possible since I have the Powerpoint presentation as my outline. I’m letting BookBaby do the publishing and printing because they can do print on demand, which means I don’t have to order many thousands of books with the subsequent shipping charge. I can order 250 softcover books with an ISBN, printing, and shipping, for just $11.76 per copy. The only reason I’m ordering that many is because I already know what my initial demand and my promotional give-away total is. One can order as few as 10 books or so, but the price per copy goes up, of course. This enterprise should keep me busy for a little while.

Of course, Olivia also is keeping me busy, or at least entertained with her photogenic antics.

Opinion—Pets speak, but we have to understand their language (part three)

Read part one and part two.

We got Zoey the Cool Cat (ZCC, but only for our purposes here) on September 21, 2007. Our agreement with the El Cajon Animal Shelter required us to take her to a veterinarian within seven days for a checkup. That was the first time I took her to a vet.

The second time was July 9, 2018 (picture at right).

Jim’s brother had a stroke on
March 19, 2018, relegating him to the hospital. He had a cat named Ninja, and since he lived about 120 miles from us, we went to get Ninja and bring her to live with us until Jim’s brother was out of the hospital.

Ninja was a severely overweight cat and was supposed to be on prescription food, which we did not know about. Nonetheless, Ninja stayed with us until April 12, 2018.

After we had taken Ninja home, ZCC proceeded to put on six pounds in six weeks. I was concerned that, perhaps, Ninja had some sort of virus or disease which ZCC had caught. So off to the vet we went. The results came back as a healthy cat.

I was having my own problems in July, having gone off on a (failed) suicide journey from July 23 to August 1, so ZCC was not at the top of my list of concerns. When I got back, though, I noticed that ZCC was not doing cat things anymore—playing with her strings, jumping up on chairs and beds, and playing fetch. She was just laying around. I chalked it up to her being depressed over me having gone missing for ten days.

It wasn’t until I started volunteering at a cat sanctuary housing about 300 cats that I realized something more serious might be ailing ZCC. I took her to the vet. I wasn’t satisfied with the diagnosis, so I took her to a pet hospital for a second opinion. They wanted to do blood work, urinalysis, and a poop smear. I authorized it. ZCC was not cooperative, though, so all they got was a blood sample and left it up to me to get the other two samples. I have problems getting samples of my own for the doctor, so I wasn’t keen on getting samples from ZCC.

And I didn’t.

Instead, I took her to another pet hospital that a friend recommended. Said friend fosters a few billion dogs each year, so I trusted her about the second pet hospital. They got blood, urine, and fecal samples. That was on August 13. The results came back on August 18. ZCC was “borderline diabetic,” but she was above the borderline. The vet prescribed Hill’s W/D weight control food, and scheduled a follow-up visit for six weeks later.

At the follow-up visit, the prescription diet was working. ZCC had lost 3½ pounds and was safely under the borderline. The vet, however, said to keep her on the prescription diet and bring her back for monthly monitoring.

I was happy with her weight loss and being safely under the borderline, so I didn’t see any reason for monthly monitoring. I did weigh her each week, though.

The prescription food was $45 for 24 cans of wet food and another $45 for a five-pound sack of dry food. As I was buying the food for the first time, I thought to myself, “I could be buying fresh lobster at these prices.”

I continued the Hill’s food and weekly weighing. She got down to 11.6 pounds but she still looked like she weighed 18.6 pounds. I now know why, which I’ll get to shortly. Her weight loss, though, resulted in her becoming a very bony cat. I could feel and see the bones in her back, her legs, everywhere. I thought she was too skinny. Yet she still looked fat. So I started mixing four cans of prescription food with one can of regular food, and four cups of dry prescription food with one cup of regular dry food. I now know that was just one of many significant mistakes I made.

ZCC made one final attempt to jump up on chairs and beds, but after a week, she gave up completely and laid on the kitchen floor in front of the refrigerator. Along with that clue, the way she laid was concerning. No longer did she flop. Instead, it took her about ten seconds to lay down, and her rear legs always were stretched out. No more breadloafing. Still I did nothing, other than pick her up to give her love.

For ZCC to get to the catio, she had to go through a hole cut in a low kitchen window. The step up and down was about eight inches. When she was having problems doing that, I should have taken action. I didn’t.

One day when I was clipping her nails, I noticed a side nail that I had missed for some reason. From the look of the extreme curling growth, I had missed it many times, and I could see that it was digging into her paw. I tried for several days to clip that nail, but I couldn’t get to it. I could tell that it was affecting her, so I took her to Banfield Pet Hospital, located in Petsmart, which was where I bought her prescription food. The vet got the nail clipped and asked me to bring her back in three days to make sure the puncture wound in her paw was not infected.

Meanwhile, ZCC was not squatting anymore to pee or poop. She was walking and squatting on her hind legs instead of her hind paws, which started getting messy when she eliminated. I could see that her paw was not getting infected, but I kept the Banfield appointment to ask about her problem with her hind legs. The vet mentioned possible diabetes and arthritis.

Well, it couldn’t be diabetes because we had that under control. So I went with arthritis.

Since I had gone on a weekend, their specialist vets were not available. So I made another appointment for a week later, the earliest available, to meet with a specialist to determine what we could do for her arthritis. That appointment was for June 23, a Sunday. When I got to Banfield on June 23 at 3:10 p.m., the vet wanted to take the regular blood, pee, and poop samples, but the results would not be available until Thursday. I didn’t want to wait that long. Banfield recommended an emergency vet just a couple of blocks away that has its own lab and could provide immediate results, so that’s where we went. Said emergency vet was closed on Sundays.

I wanted to get help for both me and ZCC. All the vets and pet hospitals I normally go to are closed on Sundays, many on Mondays, too. Finally, on page 2 of a Google search for “emergency vets near me,” I found Pet Emergency & Specialty Center (PESC). I knew exactly where it was since I used to drive by it several times a day for ten years or so.

I called PESC and was told that they did not take appointments, were open 24/7, and could see ZCC. We got to PESC in about five minutes since they were about a mile from where I had parked to do Google searches.

PESC was busy. Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a vet or pet hospital as busy as PESC was. Although they took ZCC from me immediately and had me sign various papers to authorize testing, shots, etc., it was almost three hours before they called me in. During that time, it got even busier. People bringing in dogs, cats, snakes, birds, even a bearded dragon. People walking out without their pets. I now know that many walked out because their pets were left behind for testing, but some walking out because they had to say goodbye to their pets.

The vet I met with, Dr. Dwan, was extraordinarily competent and compassionate. They had given ZCC a pain shot, and a preliminary examination indicated severe problems with her back legs.

Dr. Dwan asked me about her habits, how much she ate, how much she drink, how much she eliminated. Well, ZCC ate a lot, drank a lot, and eliminated a lot. Kind of. Her pee balls were the size of grapefruit, but very little fecal material in her litter box. Dr. Dwan told me the I was describing diabetes. Nope. I had diabetes under control. I mentioned arthritis. He said it was a possibility, but arthritis wouldn’t account for the excessive eating, drinking, and huge pee balls.

I authorized him to do any and all tests, costing $672, that he thought necessary to get ZCC some help. I can afford the $672, but I was still of the mindset from decades earlier, “$672!??? It’s a cat! If it dies, I’ll get another one.”

They allowed me to leave while they did those tests. That’s when I realized that not all the people leaving were leaving because they had to let their pets go.

I went home, since that was only 2.9 miles away, and waited for a call, which came 90 minutes later. It was as Dr. Dwan suspected, diabetes, showing classic diabetes symptoms. Unfortunately, though, I had waited too long, and ZCC was permanently crippled from the diabetes having destroyed the muscles along her spine and back legs. He was surprised that she had any rear movement at all.

Her urinalysis showed a glucose level about four times the normal level. Dr. Dwan said that even with daily insulin injections, ZCC probably would be dead within a couple of weeks. She was too far gone. Additionally, with literally no hope for a full recovery, and with her glucose levels being so high in her urine, if I wanted to go with treatment, ZCC would get two double-dose insulin injections each day, and she would be in their pet hospital for probably seven days. I would not get to take her home until they got her diabetes under control.

Total cost for 7 days of treatment and hospitalization would be about $2,000. I can afford $2,000, but I was thinking more of ZCC not making a full recovery and not having long to live anyway.

I made the decision, without Jim’s input since he was at work, to let ZCC go in dignity rather than try to carry on to satisfy my own ego while knowing that she was suffering. I didn’t want any more pain and suffering for her.

After I made the decision, Dr. Dwan consoled me, had me sign papers, brought ZCC in to allow me to take as much time as I needed in order to say goodbye, and allowed me to hold her in my arms while he administered the three euthanasia drugs. ZCC was alert and active, but when that first drug took effect, ZCC’s head fell into the crook of my arm and her last breath came out as a soft, quiet snort. That was her last movement.

After administering the other two drugs and checking her heart, he softly said, “She has passed.”

He allowed me as much time as I wanted to grieve over my deceased little one. I cried for a couple of minutes, put ZCC down in the pet bed, took a picture of her, covered her with a towel, and left.

The people in the lobby that I had been talking to for several hours all knew that I was leaving without my little one and that I would never see her again.

The total cost for ZCC was $1,126, but $321 of that was for a private cremation with her remains being returned to me. I got word yesterday that her remains will arrive on Monday between 11 and 12:30. I am going to bury her in the side yard where I often sit and read. I’m hoping to put a little memorial stone there as well as some flowers, something like a hibiscus or a crown-of-thorns since they are ever-blooming in our climate.

Here’s the page from her test results showing the extraordinarily high glucose levels:

Additionally alarming were the two x-rays:

If you look closely, you can see balls of fecal matter in her intestines. That’s what was making her look fat. She was unable to eliminate all that because her rear muscles had atrophied so badly. Fecal matter does not weigh as much as bone, fat, fur, and muscle, so even though she weighed only 11.6 pounds, she looked like she weighed much more. A deadly illusion.

So what have I learned from this emotional and trying matter? Well, first and foremost, a cat IS NOT JUST A CAT!

Zoey the Cool Cat was not just a cat. She was a member of our family. She loved us and we loved her. The only thing I can do now is ensure that our new member, Olivia, gets regular checkups at the vet. She has her first visit this coming Wednesday. At PECS. I really liked everything about that place.

Second, although everyone hates to spend money needlessly, spending money on loved ones is not needless. When I look at the $1,600 I spent on vet bills during the past year and divide that by the 12 years Zoey the Cool Cat was with us, $150 or so per year is about the cost of an annual checkup, and the results are much easier to deal with. Olivia will be getting annual checkups at a minimum.

Lastly, pet insurance. We all hate insurance until we need it, and then we love it. Olivia will have pet insurance.

Here is the last video that I took of Zoey the Cool Cat from June 19:

Here is the last picture I took of Zoey the Cool Cat:

Zoey the Cool Cat died at 9:35 p.m. on June 23, 2019. I took that picture at 9:37 p.m.. I held her and cried for two minutes, trying to console myself by telling myself that she was not in pain anymore. I was in tremendous pain, though. Still am.

Thank you, Zoey the Cool Cat, for all your love and antics, for being a part of our lives for twelve years. I’m so sorry that my ignorance, stupidity, and irresponsibility did not allow me to do more for you.

Rest in peace, little girl.

I love you and will always remember you.

This three-part post has been very therapeutic for me, and if you’ve made it all the way through, I thank you. I also did this because I know my blog posts get a lot of love from the search engines, so with appropriate keywords as well, perhaps my experience here can save someone else the same experience.

Opinion—Pets speak, but we have to understand their language (part two)

Read part one.

Although I have had many dozens of pets throughout my life, I never made it a practice to take my pets to the veterinarian for a regular checkup. My attitude was, “It’s a dog!” or “It’s a cat!” or “It’s a bird!” If it gets sick and dies, I’ll get another one.

Even though I loved all of my pets, I never had any one of them long enough to get emotionally attached to them, probably because I was too involved in doing people things— working, traveling, partying, going to concerts, eating out….

It wasn’t until Thanksgiving Day 2006 when something happened.

Jim and I had been together since May 26, 1994, and I had been without a pet of any kind since April 15, 1993, when I left Penney & Sugar behind in Texas and went off to do a little bit of euthanasia on myself.

On November 23, 2006, a stray black cat showed up at our house out in the boondocks. I gave it food and water. It ate, drank, and left. I never expected to see it again, figuring it was just passing through.

On Christmas Eve 2006, it showed up again. I’m thinking, “Hmmmm. A cat that knows human holidays….” I gave it food and water (picture at left). It ate, drank, and stayed….

Jim had grown up with cats. I had cats, but they were outdoor cats, so I would only see them when their hunting expedition had been unsuccessful on any night and they came home for food.

We both got emotionally attached to that little black cat. We named her Sophie and tried to make an indoor cat out of her. When dusk arrived each evening, though, Sophie would howl like a coyote until we let her out.

I think what I liked most about Sophie is that she would follow us around, just like a dog, and I always had been pretty much a dog person. When I was in the gardens, she was right there with me. She would follow us down the street to the mailbox and to the upper part of the lot to pull weeds. She was comfortable in the house…. until the sun went down.

When we decided to move out of the boondocks and into a condominium in an East San Diego County suburb, we took Sophie with us. She used to follow us around on the walkways, and while we were in the hot tub or swimming pool, she was in the trees checking out everything to make sure we were safe.

We had been in our condominium for only five months when I got a phone call at 6:00 on the morning of September 20, 2007. It was a neighbor a street over calling to tell me that she had found Sophie’s body in the street, had moved the body up to a curb, and had placed a towel over the body. I thanked her for her compassion, jumped in the car, and went to get Sophie.

I uncovered Sophie to make sure it was her. I never should have done that—it’s an image that is with me to this day. Her little body, including her head, was smashed flat. I spent a couple of minutes crying before I put her in the car, took her to our old home in the boondocks, which we had not sold yet, and buried her, still crying. I marked her grave with a little cat face and whiskers made out of little stones (picture above).

I cried for several hours, and when Jim got up, I told him what had happened. We hugged each other, and cried together.

I told Jim that I wanted to go to the animal shelter and get a cat, an indoor cat, because I didn’t ever want to see a pet’s body again that had been crushed and killed by a car.

We got Zoey the Cool Cat on September 21, 2007. We saw her on September 20, but she wasn’t available for adoption until September 21, and they would not put her on hold. It was first come, first serve. We got to the animal shelter 15 minutes before they opened on September 21 so that we would first in line and could get Zoey.

Zoey was her name when we adopted her, but after just a few hours in our home, I snapped this picture of her:

She looks a little relaxed, probably happy to be out of that animal shelter. I thought it so cool the way she just took over my office chair. I pictured her daydreaming, “I like this place. It’s cool. I’ll stay.” That was when I added “the Cool Cat” to her name. I always referred to her as Zoey the Cool Cat, never just Zoey. Jim and other people would shorten her name to just Zoey, but never me.

I thought there only was going to be a part 2, but after writing about Sophie and seeing her pictures again, I need to take a break. I have tears in my eyes, heartbroken about how these two cats left us. I’ll finish this tomorrow with part 3 about why Zoey the Cool Cat’s death is completely my fault. She should have been able to live several more years if not for my own ignorance, stupidity, and stubbornness.

Rest in peace my two precious little ones.

Opinion—Pets speak, but we have to understand their language (part one)

I feel very guilty about the death of Zoey the Cool Cat.

Let me explain.

I grew up in Brigham City, Utah, and Kingsville, Texas, both agricultural rural areas then, and now.

Because of their rural nature, I had many “pets” during my youth, everything from ducks, dogs, ponies, and horses in Utah to fish, cats, dogs, guinea pigs, hamsters, rats, mice, opossums, raccoons, birds, cows, pigs, horses, a 7-foot blue indigo snake, and even a monkey. Sadly, though, I never had any of those creatures for longer than a couple of years. It’s the nature of a farm and youth ignorance.

When I went off to college at Texas A&M University, the only pets I had were those at the animal shelter and those belonging to friends. I missed having a companion and promised myself that I would have a pet when I graduated.

I kept that promise. In April 1978, I got two Beagle puppies, Union and Pacific, named after my infatuation with the Union Pacific Railroad. That was the same time that I got the first job that I truly enjoyed, working for Grocer’s Supply International in Houston. My job was to represent the company at national and international food and export conventions. I was going to be doing a lot of traveling, for days and weeks at a time. I gave Union and Pacific to a friend, who promised I would get them back when I “settled down.”

I never settled down.

I thought I had settled down in April 1983 when I moved from Houston back to College Station, hoping to get a job with Texas A&M University. When I finally got that job in June 1984, I was taking weekends off and traveling here and there to concerts. Saw everyone except The Beatles and The Who.

It wasn’t until October 1987, after I had seen all the major groups that I wanted to see (and that were still groups—that’s why I never saw The Beatles and The Who), I got two dogs. One was a rescue dog from the neighbors of friends in Houston. It was a female dachshund named “Puppy Doggy.” Those people in Houston were immigrants from China. They had a momma dachshund and her puppies tied up behind the washer and dryer in the garage. They were planning on eating them for Thanksgiving and Christmas meals.

Eventually the SPCA got involved and took the dogs from them; I got one of them.

Puppy Doggy was only with me for a few short months. Since she was supposed to be a meal, apparently one can fatten up dogs by neutering them way too early, feeding them a lot, and not letting them exercise. Unfortunately, one of the problems with neutering a dog too early is that they can become incontinent. Puppy Doggy became incontinent at about six months of age. It was too much for me to handle, so I donated her to the Texas A&M University Veterinary School so that they could give her the love and care she needed while doing critical but compassionate research on incontinence. I visited Puppy Doggy every month for several years until she died. She was only four years old, but her horrible start in life didn’t bode well for a long life.

Immediately after letting Puppy Doggy go to the vet school, I got two dogs, a long-haired dachshund, Penney, and a chow chow/basenji mix, Sugar.

I had both dogs until April 15, 1993, when I abandoned my life in Texas, intent on going to sleep permanently in Canada by the end of April (see A suicide journey ends in failure). I confided in only one person, Eric. He had been a close friend, roommate, and employee until, searching for his own life, he joined the United States Army. He was stationed at Fort Hood, Texas, just 90 miles away. He came and got Penney and Sugar, promising to find them good homes since he couldn’t have pets on the army base. I found out several years later that his girlfriend took both dogs. He did marry that girlfriend and they had both dogs for many years.

Because my own life was in turmoil, I did not get another pet. I didn’t even consider such until 2003 or so when my life settled down. A big part of that settling was due to my husband, Jim. We have been together since May 26, 1994, but from 1994 to 2003 I was either traveling for work or starting my own companies. Both took too much time from me. Then a stray black cat visited our house on Thanksgiving day in 2006 (see Cats—How it started).

Tomorrow I’ll explain why I feel so guilty about how and why Zoey the Cool Cat died.

Rest in peace, Zoey the Cool Cat. I loved you dearly, and you’ll always be a part of my heart and life. I’m so sorry that I didn’t take better care of you.

New member of the family

With the moving on of our beloved Zoey the Cool Cat, a hole was left in our hearts. That hole never will be completely filled, but we partially filled it yesterday when Olivia joined our family.

Olivia was abandoned in a box at the front door of the El Cajon Animal Shelter the night of June 2-3.

From the looks of her tummy, I believe she just had kittens. I guess the previous owners didn’t understand spaying. They probably sold the kittens and then dumped this little one.

Interestingly, they apparently left a note with Olivia telling her name and how old she was. As of June 11, 2019, she was 1 year 6 months 3 weeks old, so I have pegged her birthday as November 21, 2017.

We got home with her at 11:33 a.m. She proceeded to explore the house for about 20 minutes before finding the one bed that she could crawl under, and there she stayed for about four hours.

I coaxed her out with some wet food, and ever since she’s been running from room to room; exploring all the window sills; grooming; and watching the rabbits (second picture below), ground squirrels, and birds.

She has lots of spring in her back legs, being able to leap a tall building with a single bound, and I do believe she is the fastest cat in the world. It’s about 40 yards from the front door through the living room through the dining room down the hallway and into, her choice, one of the two bedrooms or the office. She does that 40-yard dash in 3.1415926 seconds.

Olivia is a Domestic Short Hair, and judging from her cute little black nose and goatee, and her spikey-looking fur (it’s actually quite soft), I believe she is into goth metal music. That’s not The Beatles….

She has discovered the catio, is eating/peeing/pooping, and generally just a lot of fun to watch, hold, and love.

Her black and white seems to go well with the colors of the bedspread quilt.

Jackson Galaxy (“My Cat From Hell”) says that a grooming cat is a happy and healthy cat. Let’s go with that.

We have two months to get acquainted. After that, we cannot return her to the animal shelter and get our adoption fee back. I hope she decides to stay.

Zoey the Cool Cat — R.I.P.

 

Picture of the Moment—Post-dashcam days

I went by this car on fire before the police, fire trucks, and ambulances got there. There’s no additional information online so I presume everyone involved is okay. In pre-dashcam days I would have stopped to take a picture. I always felt guilty about stopping to take pictures of accidents and such. I like post-dashcam days better.

Picture of the Moment—Flamingo season at the San Diego Zoo

There are 7 flamingo chicks at the San Diego Zoo, and many more on the way. Mommas are momma-ing, daddies are daddy-ing, eggs are lying, and chicks are walking and flapping.

Nature’s Geometry: Flora—Who is Russel Ray?

Since January 28, 2019, I have been doing the final editing and design layout on a 350-page book titled Spiny Succulents: Euphorbias, cacti, and other sculptural succulents, and (mostly) spiny xerophytic plants. I finished it yesterday. It will be on sale in late October or early November, and is the fourth book by the author, Jeff Moore, on cacti and succulents. As with his first three books, there are lots of beautiful pictures, over 1,340 of them.

Seeing how easy it is to publish a book in today’s world—one can even get an ISBN for as low as $4.95—encouraged me to do what I have always wanted to do: write a book. I actually have two books in mind, Nature’s Geometry: Flora and Nature’s Geometry: Fauna. They basically will be picture books, with a little writing thrown in for good measure, and will allow me to combine a lifelong love of photography, nature, writing, and mathematics. My first task, then, was to ask myself, “Who is Russel and why does he get to write these two books?” In other words, “About the Author.” I sat down last night while watching the movie “Silent Hill” and wrote about Russel (that’s me!), a long diatribe that obviously will be edited for brevity for the final book. Following is what I came up with, still in first person:

I was born in 1955 in Kingsville, Texas. After my dad died in 1961, mom moved us to northern Utah where her family was from. It was in Brigham City, Utah, where I became fascinated by nature. Our neighbor next door was Mrs. Larson, my first grade teacher. She had beautiful plants in her yard, and one day she gave me a “heartleaf ivy,” Philodendron cordatum. That started my fascination with plants.

My paternal grandmother adopted me in December 1965 and took me home to Kingsville. In September 1966, the principal of the grade school was going around to home rooms and asking for volunteers to learn photography. The school provided Nikon cameras, a darkroom, supplies for the darkroom, adult supervisors for the darkroom, and, most importantly, free entry to all school events, including football, baseball, basketball, and tennis (my four favorite sports). I was an easy sell, and that was my start in photography.

In September 1968, my first class in eighth grade was botany. My teacher, Mrs. Bajza, presented a slide show of many beautiful plants, all growing in her gardens. When I got home that afternoon, I asked my grandmother if I could have a small garden in her yard. I was expecting a loud and definitive, “NO!”. However, granddad and I had installed central heating and cooling earlier that year, and grandma gave me the 100-ft square section where the cooling condenser was located. If you’re familiar with cooling condensers, nothing had been growing around ours for about six months because of the hot air blowing from that condenser. I was depressed and went over to visit my best friend, Richard. He and his parents listened to me complain and invited me to go with them to the Rio Grande Valley the coming weekend to visit nurseries, which turned out to be specialized cactus and succulent nurseries. I was mesmerized. Richard’s parents allowed me to pick out plants that I liked and they bought them for me. I created a rock wall surrounding the cooling condenser to force the hot air up, allowing me to plant my cacti & succulents on the other side of the rock wall, protected from the hot condenser wind. Eventually the plants grew and bloomed, and that was the start of my fascination with cacti & succulents.

My math addiction came about because I had been good with numbers from a very early age. I was quite adept using a slide rule when I was in first grade.

In twelfth grade, I won a math competition in South Texas for my presentation, “Tips & Tricks To Help You With Math.” That allowed me to go to a statewide competition a few weeks later, where I came in second. First place was taken by a girl in twelfth grade in Dallas for her presentation, “Fibonacci Numbers & Nature.” Her presentation resulted in me combining my three loves of math, nature, and photography.

This book will explore nature’s geometry using math, specifically the golden ratio created by the Fibonacci sequence of numbers, but also the golden angle, the reverse golden angle, the golden rectangle, and the golden spiral, all derived from the Fibonacci number sequence.

Throughout these pages are pictures, most of them my pictures of plants in my collection, showing how the Fibonacci number sequence expressed itself in our cacti & succulents as the number of ribs on a gymnocalycium, the number of spines in a cactus areole, and, of course, the spirals prominently displayed in many species, most notably in the center of the sunflower (Helianthus) and the spiral aloe (Aloe polyphylla).

Meet Mary Agnes

When I came to San Diego in April 1993, two of the first plants I wanted were Agapanthus africanus and Jacaranda mimosifolia. I never had seen them before. They were beautiful!

I was able to get Agapanthus immediately because it’s a perennial with a rhizomatous root.

Jacaranda is a tree growing up to almost 100 feet tall, so I knew it would be awhile before I got one. That “awhile” turned into 25 years and 3 months….

I got my Jacaranda in July 2018 but I have been keeping it as a bush. I laced it today so I could see its first flowers.

Both plants are purple, which was my wise old grandmother’s favorite color.

I have named my Jacaranda “Mary Agnes” in honor of my wise old grandmother, a master gardener before there were master gardeners.