2012 08 05 Non-Conditional

Non-Conditional

Ok, ok, here I come! Grab the kids and get the heck out of the way! Large wandering, poor sighted billy goat with cane smacking tendencies approaching! Hard a port! Starboard side! Battle stations! Battle stations! Dive! Dive! Dive!

I always wanted to type that stuff. Smile.

Some times I feel like a large cargo ship, coming in through the outer banks, or the sounds, or the bay, floating aimlessly, looking for somewhere to port. Looking for a tugboat to tie onto and lead me in through the narrows. Looking for a visual cue that would pin point my exact location, so that I can update my internal mapping system. Some familiar hint of a silhouette, or an outline of a door, or the faint glow of a window, or the dull shimmer of a steel handrail. Anything that would shout out, "Hey! I'm over here!" All I usually need is just one, small, little, miniscule tad of a facsimile of a shard of a clue. That's it. That's all I need. Nothing more, nothing less.

I'm ok around my house. I know where most everything is. I know what to kick, what to bump into, what to knock over, and what to slam into. I feel right at home when I kick the dog ramp, or trip over a dog toy, or hunt for the top step, or search for a door knob. It's all home, and it's all mine. I never use my cane when I'm around the house, inside or outside. My wife wonders why, and for the life of me, I can't really tell her why, because I'm not really sure myself. I suppose it's a male thing. My home! My castle! Really? I mean, really? Typical male stubbornness? Probably.

I guess that when I am around home, and I get into my normal daily routines, I tend to sometimes forget that I can't see to well. Too well? Hell, I can't see too good either. Fact is, I can't see much of anything. But when I am up and about, around the home, I tend to not remember some times that I need to use my cane everywhere else. I tend to forget that without my cane, outside the home, I am pretty much, completely blind. I forget all of that crap, and my cane is a million miles away. Even when I am walking the dog out back, I would rather stop and send up mental flares, or patiently wait for a car to go by to reset my bearings, then use my cane. I would rather stand outside in the rain, hunting for a visual cue of any size or shape that would guide me back to the house, than run around my back yard with a white stick.

A friend of mine, jokingly, said that people of sophistication, call it a cane. They never use the word "stick".

I got your stick, right over here honey! Smile again.

No, really, it is a manifested male ego swell, manufactured out of sheer little boy pride that would, and will, eventually, I am sure, lead me towards a cliff somewhere.

That doesn't matter though. All of the variables and unknowns and around the next corners, just out of sight's, they don't matter when I am home. None of the uncertainties matter, and as a matter of fact, they just seem to clog things up, and get in the way.

I am still trying to convince myself that I do not need a cane, and that I can see just fine. Most times, my memories fill in what I can't see, and I think that they trick me into believing that what I am imagining is actually what I am seeing. A made up reality of past recollections and stored data that takes shape and presents itself in an orderly fashion. For the most part, I actually believe what I am seeing, and use it to the best of my ability. It's turned and bit me on the ass a few times, and I usually end up calling myself a handful of wonderful names, but then I turn right around and pull the reels of film back out and reload the projector.

I always did love a good movie. Especially the ones with a twist to them.

I suppose I will hang on to my manufactured independence around the house as long as I can. I suppose also, that there will come a time when I will be able to totally accept my "condition". Somewhere out there, a lady that I know just read that word, and is cringing, along with calling me a few names of her own. Using the word "condition" slams me into a category that reflects on nothing more than being what the condition states, and nothing else. No relevance. No unchartered waters. No around the next corners. Just me and my condition.

I don't want to be limited to the rules of the condition. I don't want to be hampered with limits and boundaries of the condition. I don't want to be labeled by the name tags of the condition. I am unconditionally, non conditional. Man, that's a mouthful.

My cane, I suppose, represents the "condition", and I am very afraid that I might find myself in the same long line, with all of the other 'Conditionally' inflicted, which would put, for the most part, and end to my typical male independent state of mind.

Man, if there was ever anything I did that was for the better, it would be to finally be able to put my misguided male ego to rest. I think nothing gets in the way, at times, more than that. Over inflated, swelled beyond recognition, over used and totally abused. You women must look at us dude fellas sometimes and just shake your head. Giggling under your breath right now, aren't you? It's ok; you can go ahead and laugh out loud. It ain't gonna matter much, cuz we're just gonna go ahead and do it anyway. Too much damn typical male patterning going on! Is patterning a word?

I need my cane. I don't like my cane. I depend on my cane. I hate my cane. I realized the other day that if we leave the house, and I am in the car, if my cane is on the floor at my feet, I get a comfortable feeling of being able to handle whatever comes down the road. How can I hate something that brings such comfort to me? I don't like to have to rely on it, but I am glad I can. I am in a constant tug of war with this blind thing. I am desperately clinging tightly to what ever I can muster up of my vision with one hand, while I reluctantly clutch my cane with the other. I continue to subconsciously tell myself that I an not blind. I continue to, blah, blah, blah.

Through it all, I continue to be blessed every day. I continue to focus on the things I have in my life. I continue to struggle with it all, but I do manage to keep on continuing.

Well, here I go, off on another tangent that was totally unpredictable. I guess I'll take my tangent, and run with it.

Probably better take my cane with me.

2012 07 13 Fill 'Er Up!

I often wonder if my time here on this big blue spinning marble is going to be considered time well spent. I often wonder just how each day gets filled up by so much, without really even trying. I often feel like I am being judged, like I am being compared to, like I am trying to do just a little better than the next one.

The next what? What am I being compared to? What am I filling my days up with? How do they all just get, filled up?

I woke up at five past five this morning, wide awake, and with the sound of a crow hollering down the road, it was evident that the day had indeed started getting filled up with, things. The sun was still thinking about peeking its head up over the tree tops. All of the things that tend to fill a day up were all lining up, checking their schedules, waiting their turns, whispering to each other as they patiently got ready to take their place, filling up the day.

Where do they come from? Did I buy them on sale and store them in a closet one night while sleepwalking my way through another night? Did I hit the home shopping network one day and buy a life's supply of things? Is this all pre-sorted out, with my name on it all? Was it double coupon day at the local market? How do they just, "appear", like that. Every day, one after the other, one at a time, until another day is filled up again, and night comes around it's like, umm, wicked weird. It's so unexplainable. . I'm telling you, it's just simply incredible.

Its six thirty now. The dogs are walked, watered and fed. The cardinal has made his beautiful six o'clock in the morning call. The guy down the street with the loud truck has already gone by, on his way to work, and here I am once again, sitting in front of my computer, wondering what to write. I feel like I am supposed to write something, so away I go.

You ever feel like their is something you are supposed to be doing? You ever feel like the world isn't spinning quite right until you figure out what it is and get on with it? How do we know what 'it' is? How do we instinctively know where we are supposed to be, and what we are supposed to be doing?  It's pretty amazing that the world isn't full of six billion people, wandering around, bumping into each other, with no clue what to do, where to go, or who to do it with. It's just simply amazing, if you think about it that is.

Listen. Did you hear that? Another car just went by, on its way to, somewhere it's supposed to be. Just simply amazing. All of this stuff, one after the other, One by one. Who sorts out all of this stuff anyways? I mean, just wait a second, and, there it is! Whappo! Whammie! Pow! Some more stuff, right over there, coming this way! Incoming!

Coco the horse dog is right where she is supposed to be. Deena the dainty is right where she is supposed to be. My feet are crossed, under my computer desk, right where they are supposed to be, or' well', maybe I shouldn't have them crossed. There. Better.

Last night, I listened to a song by Arcade Fire before I went to bed; it's the song, "Suburbs" from the album of the same name. I woke up with it playing in my head, and it's still playing, an hour and a half later, just like it's supposed to be? Really? I mean, it's a catchy tune and all, but, really? Is this how one goes about filling their day up? By listening to Arcade Fire? I didn't even know about this band a year ago. How did they just show up this morning, and start filling my day up? Do I have to pay them royalties or something? I hope not, cuz I didn't sign up for them. I mean, I don't heaven have any premium channels with the discounted package plan that I, umm, filled up my day with.

Once again, I seem to find myself off on a tangent, writing about non pertinent information that really has no bearings on much of anything. Maybe I should just hit control, home, then control, shift, end, delete. No. I don't think so.

I think I will continue to be amazed at just how neatly things fill up my days. I will just keep trying to figure it all out, while at the same time, not having a clue how to. I think I will take all of this stuff in stride and be grateful that at the end of the day, I have a place to lay my head, so I can try to unwind and sort out all of the stuff that has filled up the day.

No wonder we dream so much. It's a wonder we can sleep at all with all of the stuff swimming around up there, up here, "tapping my melon". It's a wonder anything ever gets done, with all of this stuff going on. Everywhere you look. It never stops. It just keeps on being, stuffed up with stuff.

There, see? Quarter of seven and the blue jay is banging the seed open on the kitchen window feeder. Just like he's supposed to. Seamlessly, like a well oiled machine, chugging along, very nicely. So goes the day.

What am I going to do next? I mean, this blog post is coming to a screeching halt, and I'll have to save it, then spell check it, just like I'm supposed to. What am I going to do after that? Where will the next stuff come from? What will I do with it? Will I have a choice what I can do, or who I can do it with? Is there an inventory list somewhere containing all of this, stuff?

It's like pulling into a gas station, rolling the window down, and hollering out to the attendant, "Fill 'er up!"

2012 07 09 I Feel Like...

I feel like, umm, I feel as though, err, I feel that I, I feel?

How do I feel? Let me count the ways. How am I supposed to feel?? What is everyone else feeling? What are they feeling about?

I think it's fair to say that feelings pretty much run a good part of my day. I start it off by feeling like I should get up. I usually end the day by feeling like I should go to bed. All of the other feelings during the day get me from point A to point B, with usually no problems, unless I feel like having problems.

I have been bombarded with thirty two thousand seven hundred and ninety three different emotions, yes, you got it, since that wicked weird day that I endured back in early July of 2010. So many different emotions, feelings, psyche swings, scattered nerve ending responses, the whole shebang. Is shebang a word? Hello Mr. Spellchecker!

Most times, I am not aware of my feelings, I just react along with them, seeing as how they go together so well. Isn't it funny how we sometimes trip over one feeling, just to get to another one?

Feelings. A seamless union of mind and matter. What we see, hear, touch, smell, taste, cause reactions which are all twisted up with feelings. Woa-woa-woa feeeeeeeeelings. Stupid song.

Now don't get me wrong. I'm no expert in the subject. Not in the least. I'm trying to figure them out, just like a long list of, everybody else on the face of this big blue spinning marble. A very long list indeed. I don't know if I know what I'm feeling. I don't know if I know what to call the feeling I'm feeling. I don't really know how to feel when I can't pinpoint the feeling that I'm, umm, feeling. I don't know if I should be feeling, or if I should not be feeling. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, but I feel as though I have it pretty well figured out.

The swelling tides of emotions, feelings, come rushing in again and again, no matter how much of a handle we think we have on them. They don't care about common misperceptions, or afflicted ignorance of the subject at hand, they just keep coming, and coming, and coming.  Relentless little buggers, full of spite, and vengeance, and reluctance, and tormented guilt.

On a happier note, lest we forget the happy, the joyous, the innocence, the affectionate tugs at the heart.

Let's focus on these for just a second.

Ok, time's up!

Smile.

Fact is, most of the time, I have no clue how to handle, or react to feelings. I haven't a vague notion which way to turn, only that I need to turn either this way, or that. There I go, being half right again.  What if I wasn't supposed to go left or right at all? What if I was just supposed to stand right here and just, feel? How ironic. I like that word ironic. I don't use it much. Isn't it ironic that I would choose not to use a word that I like so much? How do I feel about that?

I don't know what, or how to feel most of the time, I just take the stupid things, the feelings things, and run with them. I might as well, I mean, I look down, and my feet are moving. Usually that means it's me, taking them, and running with them. What a novel conception. What the heck am I talking about? I feel as though I may have just lost a lot of you. For those of you still strapped in, let us move on.

A lot of the feelings that I, umm, feel, are brought on by this lovely environment. Yes, I know, I am the center of it all, but still, a little help please, and thank you. An ever changing structural co-existence, brought on by an ever increasing need to, umm, co-exist. How cleverly evident, don't you think? Our environment reacts, therefore, we react right along with it. And here they come again, FEELINGS! How convenient.

I have had some unpredictable reactions in the past couple years. I have had some internal environmental developmental changes also, which have sent the feelings meter into a momentous needle meter fluctuation that has sent me cascading up, down, and around a spiral staircase, along side Dorothy, the house, and a tornado, looking down over a field full of poppies.

How did she feel anyway, getting sucked up like a donut crumb through an electro-lux hose? She must have been feeling quite a few different things I would imagine? And her little dog, too!

I realize that I am once again, rambling, but it feels so good. It feels wonderful. It feels like a slice of heaven. It feels as though I am standing beside myself, with tremendous outbursts of internal joy and compounded exuberance which shimmers with radiant illuminations through the pounding chambers of my beating heart. Whew. Had to catch my breath on that one.

I have hit the full spectrum of this emotional wheel of feelings. I have felt them all, dealt with them all, enjoyed some, and despised some more. I am no different than any one else though. These feelings, things, they aren't just mine. They belong to us all. Share and share alike. No need to get greedy with them. No need to hog them all. No need to think that yours are any better, or worse than anyone else's. No need to, feel, like they're all yours.

My sister told me once, of a saying that she uses to bring everything into perspective.

"Stop. Breathe. This is it."

That was it. Did you stop and take a second? Did you pause and take a deep breath? Did you feel the moment pass through your existence? Did you feel it? Did you take it all in? Did you step back and try to grab it before it slipped through your fingers? Did it feel wonderful? Did it feel exhilaratingly electrifying? Did you feel as though something special happened, and you were a part of it? Did it feel great? Did it feel totally awesome? Did you feel angry that you didn't just take the opportunity to grab a clue? Did you feel it at all?

I mean, did you really really feel it?

Did you?

Really?

2012 07 01 "Hello Mr. Hosta!"

"Hello Mr. Hosta. And how are you today?

I know I haven't been out to see you in a while, and I'm sorry. Believe me, it frustrated me probably as much as it did you. As much as it did all of you. And how are all of you anyways? Now, let me drop down to the ground and, "groan", there we go.

Now, let's have a look at you. I can't believe after two years of being neglected by yours truly, it's amazing how well you all are still doing. I know, I know. It's my fault. All of it. I know. I said I was sorry, didn't I? Ok then. Sheeesh. I guess I just wasn't ready to get to you before this, and I know you won't understand. How could you ever understand something as complicated as this anyways, I mean, after all, you're just a clump of plants. Very nice looking plants if I may say so.

Round and round the tree you go. One clump after another. I remember when I planted you little guys, all six of you, around this big maple tree. At first I wondered if you would grow, mainly because every other thing I put around this tree, well, it just never did well.

Oh yes, I was skeptical that you guys would do well, and look at you now! My oh my!

I do love the big leaves of you all green guys, but I think I am partial to the smaller leaved verigated fellows. My spell checker is having a fit with that word. Oh well. You just seem to have more character, and of course, I can see a little hint of the light stripes of your leaves. Yes, I think I like you guys best of all.

Who put all these weeds in here? Boy I'd like to get my hands on the, ha ha. Just kidding. I mean, weeds are people too. I just wish they would stay far, far away from you guys, and from the rest of my flowering friends. Shrubs and bushes too! Leave! Scram! Vamoose!

Is vamoose a word? If it isn't, it should be.

There now, one group done, and five to go. I think I'll have to dig up this circling wall of bricks and reset them. They look like the winters have taken their toll on them.

Round and round the tree we go. Hmm? It seems that one clump is missing. What's this pile of dirt beside where this clump used to be?

Grrrr! I know what it is! It's Charlie the wood chuck! That little! What is it with him and hostas? I mean, it was just two summers ago that he dug a huge hole right in the middle of the hostas in front of the porch! That little! I bet he's the culprit behind this missing clump of hostas.

What is it with him and hostas anyways?

I think I'll have to dig up a small clump from the huge area of hostas in the flower garden this fall and place it where this missing one used to be.

Ok, where was I? Ahh yes, I remember. The bricks. I guess I'll just try and straighten them out as I work around the tree. One brick here, one brick there, and a couple of weeds, weeds, weeds. That's how we pass the time away, in the merry old land of, YEOOWWW! What in heck was? Ouch! Man oh man! Who put one of those pricky bushes in my hostas? Son of a. Medic!

Ok. Easy now. Where's the base of this stupid thing? Ouch! There it is!

I found it! Why am I hollering? I'm the only one out here. Ok, now how smart do I feel? Not very.

Ok, easy now. Grab this stupid thing, and, Ouch! Man oh man, this thing is out to get me.

Change four, plan six. Man over pricky bush. Mental advantage, human, hopefully.

One, two, two and a half, THREE! Hooray! Plant evicted! Stupid thing. I'll just throw you over there, and, back at it again.

Ok then, four clumps done, and one to go. Rut row. Horse Fly! Oh No! Horse Fly! Standard Tactical Defensive Procedure engaged. Stand up, scream like a girl, and start flailing arms wildly, hoping to smack the crap out of him

Ha Ha! Gotcha you little flesh biting, blood sucking Sherman tank with a kickstand! Who's the man! Who's the man! That's right! That's right! Yeooww! Why you little, I thought I got you? Ouch! Right in the back of the calf! Man that hurts! Stupid little bug! I hate you! Do you hear me?

Jeezum crow!

Ok. Focus. Where was I? Oh ya, last clump. Kneel down and, whoops, wrong side of the tree. Hehe. I'll just crawl around and, oww! What the heck is that! Oh cool. How clever am I? I just crawled over the picky bush weed thing that I pulled out and threw to the side. I must be the smartest man on the planet. Holy crap! Medic! I think I'll crawl the other way, and thank you very much.

There now, where's that last clump of hostas? Hello? Yoo hoo? Oh, hi there. And how have you been? Nice to hear. Who, me? Don't ask.

Ok then, pull, pull, straighten, pull, and finally, pull. Cool. All cleaned out. I must say, what a nice job. Not bad for a guy that can't, what the? Oh no! Incoming! Horse fly swarm at ten o'clock! Tango, Alpha, Mango, Foxtrot! That's it! I'm outta here! See you hostas next June, or maybe in six weeks.

Help! They're after me!

Run for the hills!"

2012 06 27 Listen

   Listen

Can you hear the silence?

 I never thought of silence much. I never gave it a second thought, or even part of a third. I know that silence, to me, usually meant quiet time. Time to relax. Time to settle back and enjoy some free time. Silence, to me, always seemed so peaceful. So uninhibited. So, silent.

I surely never thought about being able to hear silence. Who would? What would it mean if you could hear the silence? Surely, they don't go hand in hand, I mean, how can you hear nothing? After all, isn't it rather hard to go around trying to listen to things that don't even make a sound? How can you hear something that by definition, isn't there? Why would anyone in their right mind run around trying to find nothing to listen to? It all sounds simply maddening, and rather void of logic, doesn't it? I mean, really, think of it. Silence is the prelude to, everything. Nothing makes a sound without it.

I have thought about a lot of different things these past twenty three months since I saw, and heard the color green for the last time. I have often wondered about the darkness, and the quieted hush that seemed to follow right behind it. I often have wondered if the things that I could no longer see, have anything to do with the things that I was never able to hear. I also often wonder why I wonder about such things, but who am I to argue?

So many new concepts, and equations, and perceptions have crept inside my muddled, foggy mind. So many ways to think about things. So many different outcomes and conclusions and moments of ponderment. Is ponderment a word? If you don't hear anybody say it. Is it still there?

So many different things to hear. So many different sounds to go along with the things I can not see. So many unusual hums, and chirps, and dings, and rumbles, and clangs, and rattles, and one wonderful noise after another. In a way, I guess they are all surrounded by silence. Is it the same thing that Simon and Garfunkel were singing about? Did they hear it too? Did they know something that we didn't?

Silence has to be the beginning, and the ending of everything that makes a noise. Doesn't it? It is the start, and the finish of noise. All of the noise. As the Grinch said, "The noise, the noise, the noise!" After all, it was silence that he was originally searching for, wasn't he?

Through all of the endless commotion and the constant racket of the thundering day, silence is there. All you have to do is listen for it.

I suppose if you listen closely, you just might be able to hear the silence. It might be that short burst of nothing, in between this noise right here, and that noise, right over there. It might be a lost memory, hidden in the fabric of a quiet moment from a yesterday gone by. It might be peace and tranquility, trying to find its place inside the rolling rumble of today.

Silence is wrapped around just about everything, but how can you tell? I mean who would know, unless you were some silence expert or something? I suppose that if you don't pay attention, you just might never get a chance to hear nothing.

Trying to listen to silence is a contradiction in and of itself, isn't it? I mean, imagine the conversation.

"Did you just hear that?"

"Did I hear what?"

"Nothing?"

Did I hear nothing?"

"Yes, nothing."

"No, I didn't hear anything."

"Exactly! See, I knew you heard it!"

Shades of "Who's on first" or what?

I guess through it all, it will always be there. In all its quieted glory, and hushed praise, it will remain with us to the end.

Listen to that.

Shhhh.

Can you hear it too?

It sounds as perfect as nothing I've ever heard.

2012 06 19 I Think I've Lost My Mind!

I think I have lost my mind. Have you seen it? Did it come screaming through here a few seconds ago? Have you seen something whipping around the room at lightspeed, totally out of control?

Yes, that would be it. In all it's glory, and all it's blinding metaphores and adaptable cliches. That would be it.

I'm sorry, but it is fairly apparent that I can not control it, slow it down, or keep up with it. It goes where it wants, when it wants, as fast as it wants, as often as it wants. It comes to a screaching halt, just to snap your head back as it tears off down the road, once again. I just can't seem to come close to figuring out how to stop it. Listen, can you hear that? Yup! That's it, laughing at me!

I suppose it wouldn't be so bad, but I never know where the stupid thing is going next. I can never tell what to expect, or how to prepare for what's coming around the next corner, and believe me, those corners come at you quick as a jack rabbit.

No warnings, no road signs, no speed limit signs, nothing, just wide open spaces with unlimited data streams and huge amounts of digital storage capacity.

If it would slow down for just a second so that I could, well, there it goes again. Off and running. Turn and burn. Gotta scoot. Catch ya later. And there it was, gone.

It wasn't so bad when I was young, I mean, I could keep up with it for the most part back then. It was usually chugging along, right there beside me, and I could reach out and grab a clue once in a while.

Now? Forget about it. It's a hopeless cause, wrapped around a pitiful attempt at keeping up. Whenever I do manage to finally catch up with it, there it goes again, leaving me behind in a dust cloud of impressive magnitude, exactly like i'm standing still. What up with that anyway? Hello?

Is this a joke? Is this a poor attempt at humor? Is this what I have to look forward to for the duration? Did I really get to the point when I should be carrying around a white towel in myback pocket?

And another thing, how does my mind expect me to remember half of the stuff that it is hurdling me through? I mean, someone, please, a road map would be nice! Tom Tom hell, this thing has it's own GPS software.

Did time and life fly by back then as fast as it does today? Did all of those memories spin through the fabric of my past as fast as the new ones are coming at me now? How can anyone ever hope to keep up with it all? How can anyone really get a moment to relax these days? How can anyone enjoy a slice of life any more, when the whole pie comes tearing at you all at once? Oh, hello there. It's me, a whole pie! Open up now!

There it goes again. Huh? Don't ask me! I don't have a clue where we're going next! No phone call, no email, no text message, just me and my little wandering high speed brain fart.

Pitiful, really, when you realize that I have managed to hang on for this long. It's a wonder I have the time to even tie my shoes with it jumping up and running off at the drop of a hat. Little inconsiderate mind thing.

Oh sure, there you go again, with all your fancy spin moves and high stepping obstacle maneuvers. You actually think I can keep up with, that? Are you crazy? I think you are the one that's lost your mind, oh wait, that's me. Sorry.

See? Focus lost. Pertinent information misplaced. Useable data stream deleted. I hope it's still in the recycle bin.

Nope. Not there. What a surprise! How fitting.

Hey, older than me people, what's it like up ahead there? Do I ever have a chance of catching up with this thing? Is it ever going to slow down? Am I destined to be forever lagging behind? Is a light bulb going to go off some day, and I'll finally have a firm grasp on it?

Hey, younger than me little people dudes and dudettes! Better enjoy it while you think you have a handle on it, cuz you see how good you think it is right now? Ha! It ain't gonna get any better than it is right now kiddies!

I thought I was in control. I thought I had the world by the, umm, ping pong balls. Smile.

I thought I would be just fine.

I can't even manage to catch up with my mind to find out what I am supposed to be finding out about any more.

Look.

Did you see that?

Did you notice that?

There it goes again!

Wait! Am I still writing this blog, or have I started on the next one already? Are we still in today, or has my mind conveniently gone and turned the corner into tomorrow already?

You know, I think I should, umm, I think I might, err, where was I? Hang on a second.

Where did it go running off to this time?

A little help please!

2012 06 12 Digging In The Dirt

Oh, what are these? Irises? Are they blue? No? Purple? I bet they're as pretty as you? Ya, right. I bet they're almost as pretty as you though.

Man, there's a lot of grass growing up around them. Who put the ground so far away? very funny.

Ok then, time to scooch down and, Man, the lawn feels cool and wet on my knees. Umm, how in heck am I gonna get back up? Man, I hate getting old and senile.

Ok then. One clump of grass here, one clump of grass there, and a couple of tra-la-la's. That's how we spend our time away, in the merry old land of, umm, weeds! Stupid weeds.

There. You can see the irises a lot better now, can't you?

What? More irises? More weeds? Let me at em! Ok then. Around the hydrangeas. Careful now, and, there you guys are. These ones are blue? No? Purple , just like the other ones? Very cool.

Ok then, scooch down and, stupid weeds. Stupid grass clumps. The dirt does feel good at my finger tips though. I always did like digging in the dirt. Peter Gabriel. lol. Focus now. Ok then.

There ya go, another patch of clump free irises! Man, I can't believe how much this cluster has spread. There must be around six huge clusters of these pretty little ladies, and all from one small bucket full that I dug up from the side of the road about fifteen years ago. Who'd a thunk? Who knew? Such an amazingly beautiful flower. I can still see just how pretty you are. Some things you just never forget.

Ok then, moving back to the right and my blue hydrangeas. Hello you guys. One little, two little, three little bushies. I wonder why the one on the corner has grown faster than the other two. Such amazing flowers. Clusters the size of cantaloupes, and blue as blue can be. I might have to spread some pine needles down around you guys again this fall.

Stupid grass clumps, and what are these moronic weeds that creep and crawl along the edges of the lawn? I hate these stupid things.

There, three perfectly happy and content hydrangea bushes. I should snap off last years stalks. They're all dead anyways.  Holy crap, there's a lot of them. there.

Ok then, moving over past the first iris patch, and what do we have here? More grass clumps? How lovely. How inconveniently lovely. I'll just reach in behind, along the rock wall, and OUCH! What the? Ahhh yes, I remember. The stalks with the no-see-em prickly things that sting you and creepy crawl under your skin for two days. Man, I hate these things! It's a good thing I can't see you, cuz I'd put a beating on all of ya! Stupid things! What was God thinking when he dreamed up these little buggers? Refund please! And thank you.

Now, moving right along to the right, and, YEOWW! Rose bush! Holy Moly! Careful. Careful. Someone ought to outlaw grass from growing around rose bushes. I mean, really.

There. Clump free roses, just the way they were meant to be.

Oh, I almost forgot, and I can't remember how to spell, rhodedendrom bush. Oh, thank you Mr. Spell Checker. Rhododendron bush. This is Lynne's favorite. It must have huge buds coming along? I knew it did. It's getting a lot bigger too. I remember the one I planted out front on the corner of the porch, years ago. It was doing so well, until the Miklos kid hopped off the step ladder beside it, and snapped it at the base. I almost cried. Oh well. I hope this one gets as big as that one was.

There ya go, weed free, just like when you was a little guy.

Now where to? Back around the other way? ok.

Ahhh yes, the carolinas. I almost forgot. How could I forget you guys though? Fifteen feet long, and four feet wide, and all from two little pots that we bought down the road from the lady that sells the corn. who knew you guys spread so much?

Now then, more grass clumps, and, hello! Yeoww! More of those stupid stinger plants. I really do hate these things, and they are hideous looking to boot. A perfect combination! Stupid things!

Ok, the carolinas are all cleaned out. They look ok? Good. Now then, around this big rock, and, hello blueberry bushes. All alone, out here on the end of the rock wall. How you guys doing? what? More prickly stinger thingies? Grrr. Lots of them, and lots of grass. Ahh yes, I remember this fern growing out of the wall too. Never seems to die, just keeps on ticking. Hello fern. Good bye fern. Hate to do it, but the blueberry bushes come first.

Wow, this bush on the end is getting big! I hope the rest of them get as big as you.

Ok then, finally reached the end of the wall. Sixty feet, all clump free. It's a beautiful thing, right?

How does it look? Really good? Really?

You wouldn't kid me, would you? Really? Aww, shucks. I bet you say that to all the grass clump weeder, puller guys.