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meanderings about morning-glories
Wednesday, 4 September 2002 08:20 amChris Isaak, Singing Flying
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The morning-glories are beautiful this year. They didn't do much along the back fence, but out in front they're climbing across the front of the house to wrap around the out-of-control yew on the other side of the sunken driveway. There are some beautiful hybrids--lots of pinks and purples, some Heavenly Blues shot with pink, a magenta I don't remember ever seeing before. There are also some tiny blue ones that I think I got from the alley last year. That was my coping mechanism 9-11-01, I walked down the alley, got my socks and pants legs filled with stickers, and harvested seeds. I needed some life, and nobody was offering me a kitten (which is good; the flowers are all I can handle).
And the other ones, the ones with the tri-leaves, are vining up, but I can't tell if they're blooming. The vines are so entangled, so it's hard to tell what belongs to which, and they don't say. Of course, they don't care, they're all just plants together.
Sometimes I wonder if the peach tree misses the m-g's that used to climb it. Should I write out all the craziness here? Pretend there's someone listening? The climbing, the striving, the ache for the sky makes me cry (Word of the Millennium: Weltsmertz. It means world pain, the weight of the world laying on your body like gravity). I don't know why all His lost hopes and dreams have settled on me, nesting in my hair. Distraction, I suppose.
It's time for more brownies.
-:- -:- -:- -:-
The morning-glories are beautiful this year. They didn't do much along the back fence, but out in front they're climbing across the front of the house to wrap around the out-of-control yew on the other side of the sunken driveway. There are some beautiful hybrids--lots of pinks and purples, some Heavenly Blues shot with pink, a magenta I don't remember ever seeing before. There are also some tiny blue ones that I think I got from the alley last year. That was my coping mechanism 9-11-01, I walked down the alley, got my socks and pants legs filled with stickers, and harvested seeds. I needed some life, and nobody was offering me a kitten (which is good; the flowers are all I can handle).
And the other ones, the ones with the tri-leaves, are vining up, but I can't tell if they're blooming. The vines are so entangled, so it's hard to tell what belongs to which, and they don't say. Of course, they don't care, they're all just plants together.
Sometimes I wonder if the peach tree misses the m-g's that used to climb it. Should I write out all the craziness here? Pretend there's someone listening? The climbing, the striving, the ache for the sky makes me cry (Word of the Millennium: Weltsmertz. It means world pain, the weight of the world laying on your body like gravity). I don't know why all His lost hopes and dreams have settled on me, nesting in my hair. Distraction, I suppose.
It's time for more brownies.