Butte

Red Butte Gardens have been going for 35 years. I don't know when I first visited, but they were a much smaller place then. Perhaps got me in mind to plant a garden one day, low water, native place style, even then, when it seemed I would never have a plot of my own. Got a tour, once. I still remember her talking about the importance of drought tolerant grasses, wild flowers, and leaving rattlesnakes live.

It's very large now, with both mature and still new raw gardens over the hill. A concert and wedding venue, as well as(or as a way to finance) an education in botany and conserve a place that would likely have gone to 'development' otherwise.

Instead, the most gorgeous views. Free for school groups. Employment for students all summer. Art installations. It's quite a place.



And it's giving me ideas about what I want to plant next. We went up yesterday, we had the day off together. Dylan tolerant of my gardening interest, and joins in as he can. He does love what I've done so far.



I still call it Red Butt.

Eternity

Painted the exterior laundry room, up to the height I could reach without a ladder. Looking for a proper house painter. Decided to clean the bedroom window screen, and uncovered crumbling paint and wood. After cleaning it up, it wasn't quite as bad as it looked initially, but the frame needs tlc. Had some wood hardener from the porch project, caulked the window a bit, I'll paint it Wednesday.

Every problem has a solution with a new problem embedded. Because positive feedback loops are dangerous cancers. Everything has a lifetime. We carry the microbes of our own destruction, because how else could this all work? Eternity is an awful idea.

Bowerick Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged is an immortal being who became immortal after an accident with a few rubber bands, a liquid lunch, and a particle accelerator. After a period of total boredom, especially on Sunday afternoons, he decided to insult everyone in the entire universe in alphabetical order.

- D. Adams.

Bitters

Bitter laughter and
Sweet tears. Clenched teeth and
Ease through friendly distraction.


Raining, now. Drenching rain. The garden drinking it all in. Brilliant celeraic specifically. The new raspberries from Dave and Kathy. Plotting to steal a rose cutting from the historic house to be moved. Worried my (now deleted) twitter friend doesn't reach out to me because she thinks... oh, I don't know. She knows where I live. I have no way of contacting her.

Eleanor chirrups beside me, Moby lurks, with thunder about. He's crept under the sofa. Couch. Chesterfield.



(No, ours doesn't look like this.)

An argument, Aunt Evelyn called hers a Chesterfield, and I said no, it's a couch, and I was chided for contradicting her, when they could have educated me. That a sofa and a couch and a chesterfield, were different words for the same thing. Instead I was punished for questioning an adult. I was raised by bastards.


Hail. Recycle bin knocked over.

Dave*

Dave* and Kathy came over last night. We fed them as best we could, with our usual theory of cooking†. They brought me raspberry starts. We talked about Stuff, and left the feelings out of it, although they were still in the subtext. Cats came to visit and be petted, they do seem to enjoy our friends. We walked around the block and told stories. Of fires and fires and drugs. Gave Kathy the insulated copper wire I salvage from work (it would be trashed otherwise) and a few needle counters (same) for her HS engineering class. I will get more, as she uses it.


I hope we gave them some respite, some distraction, for all their trouble getting a sitter and driving what is for me a long way. Not such a drive for them, Dave works near us, but I never assume.

Old friends. We walked by the place Dave* and Kathy's brother, and another friend, took me to eat and have a beer, the night Dylan had his shattered elbow fixed, and he was in the hospital, and I was fine, fine, fine, except I wasn't, and they fed me. I barely knew them, and only as Dylan's friends, that I liked, but...

I will never forget their kindness and thoughtfulness. Ever. An unpayable debt, especially since they keep on taking care of us. So, we keep trying to give back. This is love, when you pour everything into a friendship, and so do they.

Pour it all out, and trust.


*You know, Dave.
†Get good ingredients, don't fuck them up.

Research

I gaze in awe at the beauty of my garden. I sowed love, with effort and intention and persistence, and a lot of research, and up came life. Have to keep reminding myself, as the crocuses and little irises long dropped, and the purple and white showy irises and alliums fade, that there are more poppies to come, and the bergamot and sunflowers are to come, and the lamb's tongue has yet to flower (does this take a few years?) and the Hummingbird Trumpet is for Autumn.

Patience, and acceptance.

Thinking I will need a walkway through the mass of vegetation. A plan for next year, keeping this in mind for the summer yard sale season...

Starting

With care not to expose any protected information. Hi. Getting ready to start my day yesterday.

Windows

The Low Window.



One per cat.

Ladybugs

The colors are so vibrant.



Ladybugs all over.

I think these red wildflowers in the front are what is growing so tall, but not yet blooming, in the back along the fence.






Artful debris. Fennel and chives together.

Places

Moby has been on the sideboard, nose to the window, most of this week. When he isn't on my therappy mat.

Eleanor joins him at the far end.

This morning, she was in the laundry, in the sun. When I go to the back, she watches me. When I'm in front, she watches me.

Blanket

More rain overnight. A good 1/4", maybe more. Barrels filled, as I figured they would be.

Watching a documentary on Ealing Comedies with Richard E. Grant. He really is a bit of an oddball. I've seen many of them, mostly at the DIA about 35 years ago. They did a series. Whiskey Galore, Man in the White Suit, Lavender Hill Mob. The beginning of my film education. I'm not so much a film lover now, seen too many, I've gotten too picky. But I still love a good a good story, such a human trait.

The garden is damp and eager to surge. More coming up every day. The black iris very nearly ready to bloom. One already snapped off by someone, so I put the cage around it. I'm not angry, it's a trade off of living along a fairly busy street with a diverse neighborhood. Kids and crazies and desperate people living chaotic lives. I offer the garden as solace, and some take it a bit too literally. People, earwigs, snails, pill bugs, bears...


The sunflowers will come up in their own time. Mustard making a glowing blanket of bright yellow. Everything possible, although the likely is a smaller set.

Barrel

A short day, so I got home and brought in the bins, for ourselves and our neighbor. Watered the new-planted tomatoes. Found I'd drained the back rain barrel(onto the raspberry and celeraic) accidentally. Spent time weeding and thinking about what else to do. Want to move some more of the logs to the front as sitting stools.

But then the clouds rolled in darkly, thunder rolled along with them, and it's been raining madly the past hour or so. Barrels no doubt refilled nicely. Not checking, since I'm in my sleepy-pants.


Garden is happy, which pleases me.

Weed

Reading The Disobedience of Water, Sena Jeter Naslund.

Spent a lot of time cleaning away the construction and organic debris in the back near the house. And getting up the grass clods pulled up earlier, and into the yard waste bin. I did a small amount of digging the foxtail grass. A volunteer tomato plant came up in back, it may be far enough along to fruit, I suspect it is a Better Boy, given the location, and that the hybrid variety is hardy.


My Southern neighbor got an electric weed whacker, which is much quieter than the gasoline powered version, to deal with his neglected landscaping. In this neighborhood, a weedy yard is not notable.

I've been contemplating weeds. Hardy creatures, with many creative ploys to pioneer any potential crevice. They show up after volcanos, in tilled and ignored places, sidewalks and edges. They are liminal beings that find a place to put down sturdy roots, gather tree litter, elm seeds, dust and leaves, to create soil and spread. They get along with other plants, making it hard to dig them out without digging out more useful neighbors.

I've rather come to admire them, even as I play Unnatural Selection with them. I sweep up the elm seeds, I uproot the foxtail. Adaptable is useful to the adaptable species, but it's not generally appealing to humans, who are very, very, cleverly, adaptable. We, more than any dandelion, magpie, or tree of heaven, are weeds. We are such an invasive species, and we change our environment to suit ourselves, while not making ourselves more palatable to other creatures. The bugges and bacteria will get us eventually.


They asked: How would you like your death?
Blue, like stars pouring from a window.

I took the blue pill, and then
another. It was easy
but still my ghost, here, tethered.
I have been living such a long time
for someone my age.
I have been living in pain, etc. etc.
Yes I have tried
the hard labor of joy. Yes
most days I do not want
to die and too take pleasure
in sparrows, splashed sun.
Sadness has a long tongue and wide mouth and hounds
me wherever I go.
There are women
who hold the door open, beckon.
They are blue and it is blue where I am not.
The thing about stars is they are dead,
or some are and there is no discernable difference.
Do you understand? Something calls my name
like my mother used to.
I am tired
and something is calling, calling.
- Leila Chatti
Explaining the Attempt to the Doctors,
Beginning with Two Lines from Darwish
heteroglossia

Recommence, a repost.

The commencement speech I would have like to have heard.



(Remind them how old you are)

Don't listen to anyone just because they are older than you. This includes this statement. If I've been down the road you are starting out on, I may be able to lend you a map. Chances are, though, you will be on a different path, going in a different direction, and all I'll be doing is confusing you. Not to mention, I was 33 when I graduated, and felt old. I am here now, with no sense of being older. It's all illusion, now is still now.

Age does not grant wisdom. Rather like school, it's only the opportunity for you to teach yourself. More years just means more chances, which many people squander. Just by looking, it's hard to tell which ones. Simple success, the trappings of money, position, acclaim, are no guarantee of comprehension. Luck plays a huge part. Getting older is inevitable, only avoid dying.

But when you get along in your own years, you may well want to share your insights with those younger than yourself as well. Keep it short.

Or just reassure those who are on their second decade that progress often takes longer than expected. There is no script, there are no guarantees, you may have the wrong map. Despite what the student loan letters tell you, the most expensive lessons don't come from them.

They come in that shattered moment when you get a phone call in the middle of the night, or you have to call your spouse to say you've broken yourself, or your child's doctor approaches you with a grim face. There's been a fire, the police are at your door, the universe has upended on you. This is when you find out who you really are, who you love, what really matters. These, not graduations or weddings or celebrations.



(Lower expectation)

You can do better than you fear. You must take what you get, and treasure it. Nothing is certain except that discontented pickiness will ruin your life no matter how well you do. Be grateful for what really matters, food, health, roof, job, friends, love. Really grateful. Take none of it for granted.


(Follow their hearts)

Don't dream a dream, follow your hearts, wish upon stars. Get your hands dirty, do the job in front of you, and wake up. Dream jobs and dream homes and dream loves, will all include nasty bosses, and broken sewer pipes and diarrhea.

This is your life you are working for, and the weeds and scrapes, leaks and stinks, are part of it, not to be avoided. Take pride in how you handle the worst days, that's where we live, that is what counts. The vacation, the smooth water, that's just to give us a chance to gather our wits, breathe for a bit, then off we go again. Enjoy it all.

You will learn far more as you go, from each experience, than you ever have from dreaming or theorizing.

Just, don't cultivate chaos. Drama is for the stage, keep the reality, the one inside, balanced. Take care of the paperwork immediately, never put off the prep work.

(Remind them it’s not easy)

I remember being told these are the best years of your life. And all I could think was, this is as good as it gets? Being a kid, having no say, sucked. For those of you with happy families, this may not ring true. For those of you coming out of less privilege, or just less emotionally functional backgrounds, which I suspect is the majority, get help. Get help now, get help when flotsam surfaces when you are 30 or 50, whenever you find yourself flailing, get help. If you break a bone or rupture a spleen, you get medical help. If your heart has holes from the people who should have loved you, tried and failed to love you, or just failed you, and one day you fall into that hole, get help.

If your parents are still trying to run your life, don't consider this a favor. Do what you need - to be the adult in your own life, it's the only one you get, firmly, politely, kindly, without blame or anger, absolutely live it.

If you are living your authentic life attentively, it should feel wonderful, satisfying, exhausting and vibrant all together. Hard is not the main component, just the struts.

(Tell ‘em a secret)

There is no secret to life, only a lot that has to be lived to be understood, and is impossible to put into words. Although everyone keeps trying.


(Be profound)

Anger and blame are choices, and are always bad ones. Choices like heroin, they feel good in the moment, then take your soul in the end. If you believe nothing else, believe this. Or, don't believe, check out the research, even better.


(Keep them humble)

Some of you need to be reminded you are not perfect, you don't know how much you don't know. Eh, enjoy it, won't happen often. Some of you need to be reminded that you actually know a lot more than you think, and with a little practice, you will be fine. Just remember, stupid people overestimate their intelligence. Smart people underestimate it. Adjust accordingly.

Forward in all directions.

Celeriac

Better than Christmas morning, the Wasatch Community Gardens Plant Sale.

Mod Rain, Fog
46°F
8°C
Humidity 100%
Wind Speed W 7 MPH
Barometer 29.75 in
Dewpoint 46°F (8°C)
Visibility 3.00 mi
Wind Chill 42°F (6°C)
Last update 12 May 9:05 am MDT

Dylan willing, supportive, it's clearly not his thing, but he goes with me because I go to guitar stores with him.

Two kinds of tomatoes†, a bit random because I only wanted Mexico midget tomatoes, and they didn't germinate this year. A different sort of celery*. Two varieties of Hummingbird Trumpetå, one for the raised bed, one as verge groundcover. Got everything in,in moderate rain, and not very warm, each composted and saturated with a bucketful of water. Feeling a bit chilled and stunned, hence the lack of detail as to variety.

Garden is no longer sparse, I had to actually figure out where everything was going. Which is pleasing.

No pink run this year, no idea why, although I'd heard there had been some kind of financial scandal.

Thinking about how what I'd planned after the first gardening class had little to do with what actually happened. I'd measured and planned linear beds, all double dug, with lots of edibles. The back was done first, for vegetables, beets and swiss chard.

Ha.

I had to clear the ivy off the House first, which was many times more difficult and time consuming than I'd imagined. I didn't have any of the right tools to dig, there were rocks and tree roots, the soil came back very high in phosphate, over fertilized, or maybe just dog crap, as well as other more visible trash, and ashes from the fireplace, and building debris. Too many trees to let in enough light even for mint and parsley, no chance for heirloom tomatoes. And the elm seeds in their spring papering fling. At least the chives are still going.

Let's not even talk about Hedge.

My first attempt to dig a trench in the front was too late, the ground baked to hard pan, found out the sod had plastic mesh in it. Even the sunflowers were meagre and sad the first year, only my compost pile worked at all. Tree roots and hedge roots stifled competition, I suspect.


And the verge, full of weeds, got the woodchips when we took down the trees of heaven, some of them. It helped, but then nothing else would grow except different weeds. Spent months digging that up, the buckwheat managed there, but didn't re-seed as much as hoped. The sunflowers did take off the third year, to create a forest. Snails are a continuing issue, as are earwigs and pillbugs.


I knew about planning for various plants to bloom at different times, and kept the thought in the back of my head. Focused instead of perennial, drought tolerant, hardy plants. And what happens? Well, there are a limited number, and they seem to have sorted themselves out to bloom at different times.

Still raining, the Tree is getting very green and leafy. I may go out and snag snails, drop them in vinegar, compost them.


Later.


*Brilliant Celeraic.
†Lucid Gem beefsteak & Oregon Spring early globe.
å Creeping and taller.

Slowing

An other pan with cat.

Slowing down, letting my brain breathe. Settling down.

"awkwardness delayed is awkwardness magnified"

Panorama

Sat out with Eleanor a very long time.

I've created the space for a lovely peace to grow. Amazing.

Damn

Pandora opened the box of evils, but perhaps the worst of all was holding back Hope. It looked like a blessing, but the opposite side of the Hope coin reads, Despair. Throw out both.

Accept miracles, but hope not for them. Be ready, but hope not.


"First!"



So showy.



Pesticide free.




"They're cleaning... "

"Yeah, hang out."

"I hate when they do that."

"Ummm hmmm"





We got each other moving, and cleaned the hell out of the kitchen. A damn fine start. It helps, to have order and bright surfaces cleared of grime and fur.

Crash

We heard the crash, that sickening sound. I threw on clothes and shoes, my first aid kit, and ran to the corner. The woman in the car hit was sitting by the curb, shaken, sore, slightly abraded. I sat by her, and she asked me to stay. So, I sat on the curb with her, her son arrived, and the EMTs, police. Dylan got her a soda, at my request. I didn't do much, but reassure. So many men around, I think she was glad of a woman beside her. So, I stayed.

The woman who hit her had a U clinic uniform on, she admitted she works in the ER, and was distracted, she was so sorry. I'm glad she admitted as much, but felt she could get her comfort from someone other than me.

A while later, another woman in flip-flops requested help, she'd stepped in a pot hole taking photos, and sliced her foot up. I got her over to the bench, and called the EMT back over. He had the gloves and supplies to deal with it, and I was getting tired of stupid women. She kept saying "I feel like I'm making everything worse!" and I silently agreed that yes, she was.

Poor woman, I suggested she take tylenol and ibuprofin, and maybe a glass of wine this evening. And for the next few days, warned her she would be aching. I hope her son will reinforce this.

I was in several crashes as a kid, it's a sound that rattles my soul.

Duty

Last night, I deleted twitter. I will not return. It had soothed my hypervigilance, but went sour. I started to despair. Which is unhelpful.

So, today, I did a lot of crossword puzzles and sudoku. And I have the next five days off work. I miss expressing myself with gifs. Otherwise, planning on reading more books and gardening and painting and cleaning the house.

I must simply do what I can within my reach. Not social enough to shake anything up. I must withdraw or explode. Implode, may be more correct. And I have a duty.


Duty I take very seriously.

Rot

Compost needs turning,
To feed the daily new growth
Rot, and all living.

Indignity

Moby has been out many, many times today. He does get a bit lost and cranky, must come in, hates coming in, must be brought in ohtheindignity! But then he wants to go back out.

Had them both out a while, Eleanor on harness, Moby wandering with Dylan watching.





Elm seeds papering down. The black irises have a couple of buds, I was starting to think they would not bloom this year. A strawberry plant appeared in one of the raised beds, I had none last year, but the year before. Surprize!


Rising Temperatures in the West Causing areas of Dangerous Heat and Snowmelt Flooding

The weather pattern responsible for well above normal temperatures across much of the Great Basin and Plains are producing temperatures in the 100s in the desert southwest and accelerated snowmelt runoff and flooding in the northern Great Basin and Northern Rockies.

It's 84˚F.

Should

I need to clean the house. But I spent all the time I wanted in the garden today. House can wait, my soul needed to dig and pull weeds and plant seeds.

Took Moby out twice, Eleanor once.

Rains

Dreamed two men with hermit beards and hair were camped out in front of our house on the verge, and one took a dump there. And in the back, a man had put up a portable basketball hoop right outside the bedroom window and was shooting hoops in full color gear. Within the dream, this felt so real, I had to check when I got up that none of this had happened.

The homeless are camping out more in this part of town, preferring makeshift tents attached to shopping carts to the overcrowded shelters. It's disturbing, but I blame our culture and government for not taking care of these poor people. They should have a safe place, food, shelter, care. I give them margin, because although I recognize their right to whatever space they can carve out for themselves, I also know they are potentially dangerous. There is no judgement here, only due care of my own safety.

The garden becoming lush and full of greenery. I'm weeding out the grasses with spiky leaves, this is just becoming possible this year because of all the other intentionally planted stuff taking over. I tend it all carefully, which is not work, but love. Like love, it requires attention and effort, which is not quite the same thing as work.

I managed to sleep in this morning, Dylan came in to kiss me before he went out. Eleanor was scrunched up beside me, and chirruped at Dylan. As if to say "Hey, what about me?" So he leaned over and she sniffed his nose, and he kissed the top of her head.

Expecting rain again. The mustard flowers are a rather pretty and bright clear yellow, very tiny. Allium blooming, as are the lighter irises. I don't think the black irises will bloom this year, maybe they only do so in alternating years. The tree is just starting to bud, as usual, it's the last in the spring to do so.