“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.
Because everything else sucks.
First dahlia blooms of the whole year.
Thank you for reading this SEO-optimized post.
Incidentally, I can’t remember if this is another of @saraclark’s transplants or one my mother gave me.
But it was a nice surprise when I looked outside this morning after getting yet another huge medical bill. I mean, that thing shot up from out of nowhere in no time.
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.
And then the day came,
when the risk
to remain tight
in a bud
was more painful
than the risk
— Anaïs Nin