As long as “us” can speak English… or not…
Okay, scratch “Roy Herron for Us!” Let’s go with “Roy Herron: I will fuck up fucking over the most vulnerable members of society!”
Hmm, maybe a little too vulgar.
“Roy Herron: I think WWJD and then I do the opposite!”
No, no, that’s not going to play well.
What about “Roy Herron: A Man You Can Feel Deeply Ambivalent About!”?
Well, at least it’s honest. And it’s shorter than
“Roy Herron, A Man who Lacks Compassion for People who Aren’t just like Him and Votes for What’s Politically Expedient, Even if It Makes No Damn Sense.”
So, what the fuck is this and how did it get in my garden? Was there a mix-up in the black-eyed susan seed packing plant?
Is there still hope for some black-eyed susans later in the summer?
Will this turn out to be cool, so I don’t have to dig it all up?
Edited to add: Mike Byrd on Twitter has convinced me that these are Shasta Daisies. He says it’s strange that they’re on the verge of blooming so early, but that’s what they are. And I believe him. Here’s what’s weird, though. These are grown from seeds that came out of a Rudbeckia packet. They have popped up exactly where I planted the Rudbeckia and, as you know, if you follow this blog, I had been assuming they were Rudbeckia.
I planted both r. golsturm and r. hirta, so I have hope that I may still get some black-eyed susans in July, when they bloom.
But still, it’s weird. I wonder how often mix-ups like that happen.
The other day Brittney Gilbert linked to a post about the hidden rivers of San Francisco. And I’ll admit, it’s been on my mind, in terms of Nashville. There’s the now-underground creek that runs north of the Capitol. Are there others? But more than that, I’m curious about the springs. You see all these signs around town that say “north of here, thirty feet was such-and-such spring.”
Where is the spring now? I honestly don’t get it. Did they all dry up? Did someone plug them up? Pave over them? What? Could they come back? Spring forth from another place?
And who is in charge of maintaining our hidden springs?
Is this under Metro Water’s purview?
I learn nothing profound from gardening. I think gardening makes me stupider. Things go on all the time and you don’t know why, exactly. That plant does this. That plant does that. The tiny lilac remains tiny. You think that thing is dying, but it’s really just about to send something skyward.
Gardening humbles me. I don’t know shit. In the process of learning shit, there’s just more shit I don’t know.
This morning, I was walking through the back yard complaining to myself about how the god damn turkeys don’t come into our yard and eat all the ticks. I mean, what’s the point in having wild turkeys in your neighborhood if they don’t come into the yard and eat your ticks?
And folks, I am not even kidding you, just as I was at the height of my complaining, the dog startled, and I startled, and a huge turkey startled and I screamed and the turkey took off, flying low over the ground, up over Lloyd, and down into the field. Scared the crap out of me. I mean, I honestly didn’t even know that turkeys could fly. I felt lucky he didn’t attack us.
Anyway, here’s what I have learned–some things in your garden smell good. The irises smell like citrus candy and the white ones smell the strongest. And chamomile smells like apples, weirdly enough.
Also, don’t even think bad thoughts about turkeys or they will get you. Holy shit, that’s a lesson I’m not going to soon forget.
The President is supposed to uphold the Constitution. And yet, McCain seems to have given up on the Constitution and switched, instead, to the abuser’s lament–“You made me do this.”
See, Arizona simply had to enact legislation singling people who look too freshly Mexican out for discrimination because Obama didn’t act swiftly enough.
I don’t have a whole lot to say about Arizona. What they’re doing is obviously wrong. I hope it will be swiftly overturned. I think that goes without saying.
But I can’t let the abuser’s lament pass unremarked upon. Folks always tell you who they are, you know?