THE COLOR OF WEEDS

Rather than fight them, I've learned to accept them: these rambling acres of defiantly obstinate, rampantly multiplying weeds.

I sprayed, I cut, I whacked - - I destroyed what's left of my crippled back in a herculean effort to eradicate the weeds, but to no avail. The daily torrential rains have consistently thwarted my efforts - by nourishing my enemies and encouraging them to breed and flourish.

Some of the weeds are now as high as my neck. I'm not a munchkin. I'm 6'1". 6"2' in boots.
Places where I used to walk are now impassable. I feel as isolated, bewildered, and threatened as the narrator in The Willows by Algernon Blackwood - eternally trapped in that hostile, surrealistic region of wilderness along the Austria-Hungarian banks of the Danube.

Sorry. My imagination has gone rampant, like the weeds. So I'm a drama queen. Shoot me.

I've learned to overlook the insurmountable obstacles  and search for the positives and pleasures. Copious amounts of beer tend to aid in my optimistic approach. Yes, the weeds offer sporadic splashes of color - which somehow softens the sadistic harshness of their presence.

I wandered outside early this morning, after the fog lifted, and admired the purple and yellow highlights among the weeds. 

In the distance, a huge spider web glistened with dew in the morning sunlight (rare sunlight between rainstorms).

Most intriguing was the little butterfly that sat on my left forefinger and stayed there contentedly for several minutes. I wish I would have had my camera for that. I suddenly felt like Snow White in a glorious Technicolor Disney movie.

Does a friendly butterfly signify good luck - or am I going to get pulverized by a runaway logging truck?


There was a horrendous thunderstorm last night - - and it rained today all afternoon. If nothing else, Tennessee is wet and weedy. And humid. And buggy.
But, alas, I'm dispelling the enchantment.

All of the letters have worn off my computer keyboard and I keep making mistakes. This fact has nothing to do with weeds, of course.

I never planned on doing a post about weeds. It's boring and mundane. Fortunately, I have a knack for making boring things interesting. At least I think so.

I was going to write a review of the Rio Olympics, but I didn't want to horrify and offend any of my sensitive readers. After all, they're still recovering from my review of the Democratic Convention.

Weeds are neutral and non-threatening. If you don't live with them.

Actually, I get a thrill out of offending and horrifying my hyper-sensitive readers. It's one of the few pleasures I have left.

I was brushing my cat Scratch (Kitzee) this morning, when she suddenly jumped up and did a double-take at the window. A deer was looking in at us! No lie. Unfortunately he disappeared by the time I got my camera. The only photo I could take was one of Scratch. Rolling.

 I should explain that my house (shack) is built on a slope. The front is very high up - in fact, the front porch is like a balcony. The back of the house is on ground level. That's where the deer was looking in.

Does that make any sense? Well, anyway, here's a picture of my grandfather clock. I know this will excite and enthrall you.
My cat Bosco knocked that lamp over and the shade has never been right since.

 Tomorrow (Tuesday) I think I'm going to have to make the dreaded drive into town. Again. I have to buy tile for the two bathroom floors. And some plumbing supplies.

Insomnia will accompany me all night.

Here's a photo of the moon I took a few nights ago.
  

 What? You didn't see my art collection?? Check out my two previous posts!

also

Civil War Soldiers
Cabinet of Curious Treasures 

(this is a sorry example of shameless self-promotion)