Today’s Daily Garden Photo (DGP) is a tangled mess and I love everything about it.
From the bottom up:
- Baptisia (False Indigo) supporting all that fell on her.
- Sorghastrum nutans ‘Sioux Blue’ (Indian grass) blooms flowing from right to left
- Helianthus salicifolius (Willow-leaved sunflower) blooms that toppled over
- Pennisetum alopecuroides ‘Foxtrot’ (Giant Fountain Grass) flowers popping up amongst the sunflowers, a bit out of focus.
- Backed by Physocarpus opulifolius ‘Amber Jubilee’ (Ninebark)
My version of controlled chaos.
I was going to end it there but something else in the photo above (the owl house in the top left) stirred up a memory that I have to share with you.
It was a late summer afternoon, the kind where the days are still hot and muggy but relief arrives in the evening. The threat of school in the air. My brother-in-law, nephew and I out in the backyard attempting to put up the owl house, a gift from my wife. The only difficult task was to dig the hole for the post. And if you know anything about my soil, it’s wet, clayish and littered with shale. Not an easy dig.
With post hole digger in hand, I killed it. I slammed her down and twisted with reckless abandon. I refused help from my two assistants, determined to see it out myself.
An hour later, task complete. Cement added and we were done. For kicks, we wandered around the woods that border the back of my property. These woods are not deep, with clear views of three homes on the other side. As we neared the end of our stroll, a voice in the distance startled us all.
“What are you doing back here?” It did not carry a friendly vibe.
“I live here”, my response.
“No you don’t.”
Um, what. “I sure do, that’s my house right there.” Finger pointed at my house.
“I don’t believe you.” The man picking up the pace as he walked towards us.
“Are you serious?” I honestly thought it was a joke.
“I am.”
“How can I prove it to you?” Now I’m angry.
“Oh okay, good to meet you.” Just like that he flipped over to believing me. Weird.
We all chatted for a few minutes, neighbors getting a chance to know each other.
I haven’t see him since. I wouldn’t recognize him if I saw him again. I have no clue if he still lives there. Such is life out in the country where neighboring homes aren’t so close.
But that’s not the memory that was sparked by the photo. Just me rambling before getting to my point. Post owl house installation and a much deserved shower, the family headed out to the Bridgewater Commons. After some shopping and a quick dinner, we returned to the car and my wife instinctively handed me hand sanitizer. This was pre-pandemic. We were on that shit early.
After starting the car, I dropped a few drops on my hands
And screamed.
My blister covered hands pulsating as the alcohol spread to every inch of available raw skin. I’m not proud, but what I yelled out next has been added to the family lore:
“Holy f’n shit that hurts like a mutha f’er.”
And yes, they all laughed at my misery.
