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rejectomorph

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Showered [Mar. 31st, 2013|09:10 pm]
rejectomorph
Winter switched its tail and summoned a storm that brought real rain at last. The ground soaked it up, and when the sun returns there will be a great rush of vegetation to greet it. The dogwoods have buds, the first iris has bloomed, and there are even a couple of roses emerging. More impressive are the assorted wild plants that carpet the part of my back yard that has no lawn. I expect them to shoot up a foot or two over the next couple of weeks. Among them are a surprising number of lupines. The lupines have no blossoms yet, but I can recognize them by their leaves. I'm hoping they will crowd out the foxtails.

In fact see very few foxtails so far, and I think it's because I left last years oak leaves lying on that part of the yard where the foxtails usually flourish. The leaf layer appears to discourage foxtails, though may other plants manage to push through it. If this is the case, then I can avoid two jobs each year— raking the leaves each autumn and uprooting the foxtails the next spring. It will make both seasons more enjoyable.

Despite the good soaking the landscape got this morning, I didn't get soaked when I went shopping. The overcast remained until late afternoon, but the clouds are now breaking up. I'll be able to see the moon when it rises, and the night is full of frog music again. There could still be some rain tomorrow, but probably only sprinkles. It's feeling very much like spring now. May it linger into June.




Sunday Verse



Coney Island of the Mind 23


by Lawrence Ferlinghetti


Cast up
the heart flops over
gasping "Love"

a foolish fish which tries to draw
its breath from flesh of air

And no one there to hear its death

among the sad bushes
where the world rushes by
in a blather of asphalt and delay.

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