“I was good at blogging and then sucked at blogging before you were even born!”
This is an actual insult that I am preparing to spit at some youngstuff should I ever need to.
Seriously, people, when did this get so hard? I started two other posts tonight but then hit walls with both where I just realized, “Nope! I don’t have the gumption necessary to hit publish on either topic!” And it’s not like I’m over here rebooting War and Peace or anything. Sad!*
So anyway in lieu of anything actually real, here is a photo of a caladium that I potted and that promptly withered up and wasted away (to return, I hope, once it settles in to its new home).
* Historical footnote, for aliens or archaeologists reading this in the future: At some point in 2016/2017, everyone started punctuating everything with a one-word insult followed by an exclamation point as a way to show our allegiance to our ineloquent overlord, one Donald J. Trump.
… but in reality it’s always a welcome addition to the scorched, dead-earth-looking yard in late summer/early fall.
While hiking up Lookout Mountain last year, Nick Fowler and I for some reason started talking about black-eyed Susans and how they got their name. We pretty much settled on the only possibility that made sense to us at the time: That the black-eyed Susan was a flower insensitively and macabrely named for a domestic violence altercation of yore. That is not true, the internet tells me, and I am quite relieved.
Anyway, I have some sweet black-eyed Susans in the yard this year — another bright spot transplanted from Middle Tennessee to Memphis by @saraclark.
Everyone say hello to the coneflowers that made it all the way from Nashville to Memphis via @saraclark. They are bustin’ out!
Because it’s pretty out there and it’s too grey on this page.
Ahhh, that’s better.
My grandmother potted this for me last year and called it a bleeding heart. But it looks just like a columbine bloom, only it’s clumpy and grows much taller than my purple columbines. And the internet returns something much different when I search for “bleeding heart.” So I’m going to call it a columbine, at the risk of inciting grandmotherly rage.
What else is out there?
Snapdragons, I forget what it’s called.
Creeping phlox, little moonflower weed thingies (they are on their last legs)
azaleas (I’ve got several varieties in pink, hot pink, and white), columbine
tulip (last of the petals just fell), armeria, vinca
verbena, purity candytuft
When the wind kicks up, the big oak in the front yard looooves to let you know about it.