IN MEMORIAM

I don't consider myself a patriotic kind of guy but I do know that I love my country immeasurably and wouldn't want to live anywhere else.  I also know that the blokes who purport to dictate policy and say they're only out to make our lives better would all be better off on a very slow boat to China and it wouldn't hurt much if there was a slow leak in the hull.  We Americans have an inimitable spirit that is daunting to those that don't know us very well.  This has been evidenced by the recent tragedies that have befallen the town of Joplin, (in my own state) and also Tuscaloosa, Alabama.  In Joplin, you see flags standing tall amongst what truly looks like a bomb was dropped there.  You see neighbor helping neighbor, people who don't even know these people coming from all over to assist them rebuild, search for their loved ones, and provide that ever radiant and sweet lullaby of hope.

And so it goes with our American Soldier on this Memorial Day weekend.  We often forget about this lonely 19 yr. old kid (and he truly is a kid) half way across the globe, striding surreptitiously down some God forsaken street, packing his HK416, hoping to God that he doesn't come across an IED.  And it's that IED that has sent so many of his buds home either in a box or without their arms or legs.  Let's face it, he shouldn't be there or we shouldn't be there.  Whether you're in agreement or not with government policy and the assault of the Taliban is our main objective, we often forget about that 19 yr. old hunkered down in some rat infested hole, eating MRE's and trying to clear sand and dust out of his face.  The only place he should be hunkered down is in the backseat of his Mustang trying to get inside the pants of his girlfriend, wondering if he's going to score tonight or not.

So, as I "hunker" down in my BarcaLounger tonight, sipping on a Coors munching on some ribs from Bandana's, I'll think of Private Lopez, praying for his safe return.  God Bless You for keeping me safe!

No "KIT" Tastraphe!! (Hopefully)

My previous post spoke of a mother rabbit and her baby "kits" that had taken up refuge in my back yard for the last several weeks.  And as many young animals they are subject to the perils of ending up as delicacies for wayfaring predators, especially feral cats or red tailed hawks.  I've kept a watchful eye for them and did see them (3) two days ago.  They were actually enjoying a romp through what was much needed to be cut grass with their mother.  She was quite playful with them as they darted about a mixture of rose of sharon bushes, star cherry tree, and ornamental grasses that decorate my yard.  And while I haven't seen any of the local predators, I've not seen the kits since then.  So, I'm hoping that they've moved on maybe to more fervent territories, or are just being quite coy and selfish about showing their furry little faces to me.  I did check out their previous bungalow this evening and while there were remnants of their fur, it appears that they haven't been back for several days.  I will continue to hope that they are around here and will again tell me they're on their way to being just plain "cwazy wabbits".

Since I don't have a pic of the bunnies, their mom will have to do.

"Cwazy Wabbit"

I don't consider this post significantly momentous and it certainly won't make the 3rd, 4th, or even 5th page of the daily newspaper, but maybe what it means to  me is that the cycle of life continues each year whether you're human or animal.  And it's sort of a really touching cycle that occurs usually each spring.  Obviously you see a "wabbit" as Elmer would longingly call out.  Nah...it's not Bugs but maybe Bugs' girlfriend.  It's a Mommy Rabbit and she's carrying, or actually nursing her young.  They're lying beneath her in a clump of grass enjoying their daily sustenance.  I happened to come along them a couple of weeks ago as I was mowing the lawn and saw this clump of dead grass in the middle of the lawn.  As I surveyed the area prior to mowing, looking for rocks or twigs larger than what I lazily would just mow over, I noticed the clump of grass.  As I was about to just pick up the grass and give it the old heave, I just decided to garner a look-see.  And squirming beneath the mound, were tiny baby "kits".  I'm not sure how many there were, but I did see that they didn't have any fur so I guess they were only a few weeks old as they start to fur out about 3-4 weeks.  The mother rabbit is quite diligent as she usually comes about the same time each day to nurse and check on them.

As I checked on them this evening, I can see that they are turning into little "fur balls".  And the fact that they've made it this "fur" (how's that for a pun?) in their very short life is a testament to survival.  My innate desire to protect them goes beyond survival of the fittest even though I know it's nature's way.  There has been a hawk taking up residence in my area over the last few years but I haven't seen it as of late, possibly as the "hunting" has been limited and we certainly have our fair share of cats that are on the prowl.  So, as these little kits strive to adulthood, I hope the cycle of life continues for them and once again I won't be to upset when I see those familiar little chunks taken off my hostas each spring.

Just "Petaling" For You (Mary)

It's the eve of Mother's Day and the images I've selected are a continuation from several days ago of the beginning buds from two of my rose bushes-Black Cherry on the top and the Double Delight on the bottom.  They've now opened and are exposing not just their intoxicating beauty but their bouquet as well.  I've superimposed them on their buds so you can see from whence they've come.  And while this blog, nor this post are meant to be lessons in roses, I did say it's the eve of Mother's Day.  Certainly my thoughts saunter to my Mom now and wander what we would be doing with her this day.  Born in 1910, she'd be 101 yrs. young.  I'd envision picking her up from some living situation whether it would be an assisted living or one of her children's homes.  The thought of having her live somewhere other than with one of us would have been devastating.  But, as the needs of the aged often become more than one can manage, this may have been necessary.  She was a spry 83 when she died and had she lived, her vigor and enthusiasm for life would have been tough to ignore.  As a boy growing up, and even as an adult, to conjure up Mom as some convalescent sitting in a day room staring aimlessly at Alex Trebeck without some mental effort at answering the question, "the best sauce to use with homemade ravioli", "what is marinara" would have been deftly callous.  In spite of her lack of educational knowledge, she was quite schooled in the arena of life.  And while she wasn't one to preach, nor can I really remember her bantering some clever or perceptive adage to me, it was her gently nature and her muted stoicism that has always struck a cord with me. It's not necessary for me to speculate on what she would say to me now, 61 years into my life, for she's here with me each day and she speaks loudly in my ear, " I love you son."  Happy Mother's Day Mom!

"Beginnings"

I love roses and have about 30 of them adorning my front yard.  If you like to garden and hear the word "rose" all sorts of fears, anxieties, and down right misery can be conjured up with idea of how difficult they are to grow.  Aside from a few minor issues of Japanese Beetles, aphids, black spot disease, rust infections, downy mildew, and a few others, they're not that difficult to grow....with a bit of tongue in cheek here.  But seriously, they're not all that bad and aside from my yearly infestation of Japanese beetles, I don't have really any of the other issues mentioned.  These two buds here will bring forth a beautiful flower in the next several days and I will post them when they finally open.  The top image is a Black Cherry and the bottom is a Double Delight.  Both are in the Floribunda class and are deliciously fragrant.

But this post isn't meant to be a lesson in gardening and the care of roses although the significance of the rose is rather unique and I will note a couple of facts about the rose.  The origin of the cultivated rose comes from Northern Persia and the oldest rose fossil is said to have been found in Colorado dating more than 35 million years ago.  And for all you lovelorn people (primarily men) out there, if you were to give your significant other 108 roses, it would mean, "Please Marry Me".  So watch out how many you give!!

But, I'm digressing here.  I've titled this post, "Beginnings" as we're in to Spring here in crazy weather St. Louis.  And while we've been experiencing Seattle like patterns here (and this is not a slight to my very special friend living there in case she checks in) but with all the rain and the growth of my roses, it's telling me another season is about to begin which translates for me as a "beginning" and a cleansing of  my soul so to speak.  For the mental desolation I had been experiencing the last several months is fading.  I've always enjoyed this time of year as I walk amongst my roses garden but for this year it's extra special.  Their "return" to life is just that, after lying dormant through the winter, somewhat denuded of life, covered with either snow or mulch are now springing forth (no pun intended...well maybe just this once),with a display of color, fragrance, and accord.  Death can be that destruction that forbids that dormancy to again rise from the earth.  It is with these new buds that eventually bring forth that harmony and new beginning.