Don't know if you've ever seen these -- they're called Mexican Bird of Paradise. I'd never encountered them until I came here, to Tucson. They're indigenous. They just come up everywhere. And if you cut them back during the winter, they grow even bigger and more beautiful. You don't have to feed them. You don't even have to water them.

The garden has been a comfort, these past few days. The garden, and Bao. Things I can rely on, life forms I can trust. Not like people.

No good deed goes unpunished -- an Australian friend of mine likes to say that.

Someone I trusted -- a young woman for whom I've done quite a lot -- used my credit card number without my permission while I was away this summer. That was bad enough. But when I found out, she abused me. I expected an apology (or at least, an explanation) and what I got was an outburst of rage and hatred that left me wobbly. It isn't the money. I got most of it back. It's her attitude that blew me away.

Of course, friends have been quick to gather round and tell me they could see it coming, that it's my own fault for being a gullible old woman and I'm lucky it wasn't worse. I dunno. I thought I was helping someone get her life together. Instead, she was helping herself.

Next time I'm feeling generous, I'll give money to a charity. An animal charity. Or maybe, a botanical garden.