by dishpantheism

been in the throes of flu for about a week now. to my great relief it’s finally waning. to the great relief of others i still have not fully recovered my voice. i sound like the world’s most ineffectual tea kettle every time i say something emphatic and my voice attempts to rise above a phlegmy croak. it’s pretty crummy. on the upside we’re having a wee bit more rain today. my borage will be pleased. ferdinand cat will not be.

i soaked some peat pots in warm water and poked in some seeds last night. i don’t typically have to bother with the planting of seeds because almost everything i intentionally plant comes back from year to year of its own accord. though generally not in designated plots. i still have to plant eggplant indoors and some of the weirder solanum. in the past i’ve grown topiro and naranjilla and solanum pyracanthum (for its ornamental value). but this go i’ll stick with naranjilla because topiro doesn’t taste like much. i planted a few peppers and amaranth and huazontle. and some marigolds i’d brought back from mexico. they are huge and ridiculously pretty not like the things you see in garden centers all stunted in their sixes.

during one of the last walks i took along the railroad tracks (before i was incapacitated with the creeping crud)  i found a goat’s head. it made my heart go skippity. but unfortunately the coyotes had been at it and ruined the skull. there were colonies of mullein with their leaves rolled around them like silver turbans. defensive posture. they curl up in a drought and then unfurl magnificently when rain comes. i saw something sparkling in a hollow oak: cellophane. a man rolled by on a unicycle. a stumpy-legged toddler in yellow wellington boots chased a pony down the trail.

i’ve been making walking sticks. i don’t know why. i wonder who is this army i’m going to furnish with sticks? once i get on a jag i cannot be stopped. i’ll just have to continue making the things until i lose interest. though i told myself the same thing about knitting socks and that bug has yet to find its remedy.

the garden is heavily mulched. i laid it on thick in anticipation of the heat and the dearth of water. things are already sprouting. old-fashioned nasturtiums. cosmos. bee balm. buckwheat. sunflowers and hollyhock. clarkia. calendula. poppies. bird’s eye gilia. red chard. rhubarb. the artichokes are at my waist. i think time passes too swiftly.