I was fascinated by the purple passionflowers (Passiflora incarnata) appearing among the other volunteers in my accidental garden a year ago. The image below, captured last August, illustrates my strong suspicion that Mother Nature dropped acid in her youth.
That section of the garden is dominated this year by a thick stand of willowleaf lettuce (Lactuca saligna). As intrigued as I am with that plant, I’ve been bummed that I wouldn’t see any wacky Peter Max flowers this summer.
My disappointment was erased yesterday morning when I saw this:
Well, I’ll be damned — a purple passionflower vine is using willowleaf lettuce stalks as a trellis, clawing its way six feet up toward the sun. And the closer I looked, the more blooms I saw.
It’s even climbing the sumac seedlings.
I’m not one to attribute meaning to everything I see in Nature, nor am I inclined to invent stories about stuff that’s best appreciated simply for what it is.
That said, recently I discovered a common evening primrose that blooms in the middle of the night. Now a few days later, I’ve come upon a flowering vine that wills its way through tangle, from the ground to the light.
That flower’s name is “passion.”
My current circumstances being what they are, I can’t ignore the floral metaphors.
Friday evening around sunset, Smudge and I sat outside listening to the roar of racing at the track in the valley, two miles away. The sound was comforting in a way, an indication that everything in this world is exactly as it should be.
The sky was beautiful.
I snapped a quick picture of the Heeler, too. Unfortunately, the hulk of the vacant camper was the backdrop.
Later it occurred to me that I had the ability to make it disappear — if not from The Mountain, at least from the photo. Two minutes of digital fiddling produced this:
So that’s what it’ll look like once the fifth-wheel goes away. Miss Smudge and I will be here to see that day, I believe, and to live our best life after.
Saturday was, to put it plainly, a great time to be alive. It might well have been The Perfect Day.
Smudge and I went for walks in the woods, even though ticks and chiggers are still about. The weather was so agreeable that it seemed like the only right thing to do.
When we reached White Rock, my faithful Redneck Malinois jumped into the fire ring and sat down, surveying the nearby woods for movement.
Just my dog and me — these are the best of times.
Volunteer-of-the-Day: Nodding spurge (Euphorbia nutans), also known as eyebane.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable