Sunday, July 20, 2008


Notes from a Truant

I can't offer any excuses for my month-long absence. I guess I'm ambivalent about going on with the blog. Most assuredly I am obsessed with the garden. I am accustomed to reading much better stuff than my own elsewhere, and it pains me to perpetuate mediocrity. My blog has been something of an indulgence, a getting out of the ya-yas (no relation to the sisterhood). Lately it doesn't seem to be enough. I don't know.

It's been raining for the last several days, and I've been down with some bug, to boot. No energy for the garden, and now just sopping tropical weather with thunderstorms that scare the pee from the doglet.

Still, I can't resist a comment or two...

On 'That' Cover--What a bomb. (Not as in 'Da Bomb')... it's all our fears rolled into one, turned inside out. We don't worry that our presumptive nominee is this kind of guy; we worry that we have opened the arsenal to assholes like Limbaugh. This cover (of a magazine I've subscribed to and adored for many years) is the flash point for all our anxiety about the upcoming election. It's not that the cover couldn't be drawn; it was just a way stupid choice, satire or no satire. And it isn't satire, either. Not really. (You can thumb through the Handbook to Literature on your own.)

Why We Need to Vote These Rascals Out--The current crop of Republicans is limited to its limited playbooks. You can only propose what you are when you lack vision. Dubya and Dickie are oilmen, so they offer oilmen's solutions. Gas prices out of control? Drill off the coast. It won't solve anything, but hey--it says we're doing something. McCain is a soldier. The war in Iraq was a fuckin' mistake? Plunk our soldiers in that unfortunate country for years to come, because fightin' and killin' is what I know how to do. I haven't mastered anything else--don't even know the difference between Sunnis and Shiites, but that doesn't matter when what you are is At War. God. What a complete absence of knowledge and imagination.

Other than these less than fresh observations, I haven't much to say. That's the nice thing about the garden. The plants are perfectly content if all you do is free up their roots and give 'em a little snack. They don't need your wisdom. They need to know that you're aware of their requirements.

I don't think I'm capable of much more.

A brilliant take on the New Yorker cover.
I mentioned over at my crib that a lot of white taverns, barbershops and blue collar businesses will be taping to their walls their first New Yorker cover ever.
It's enough to be racist and xenopobic; the cretins among us do not need the MFA's in the art department at the New Yorker to design their next T-shirt graphic for them.
Glad to hear you are enjoying your garden! I was lucky to get 10 artichokes from one plant. . .so delicate in flavor. The last two I've left to flower and the purple is brilliant. Tried potatoes and onions for the first time. Raised beds with drip irrigation to keep them out of the water table - full of neighborhood pesticides.

Nothing quite like having your hands in the earth. . .now if I could get a better solution for hand picking the nematodes out of the strawberries I'd be happier. . .any solutions?

(Hey, this could be a gardening blog and that might reengage you! Great greenhouse!)

A Garden is the most healing place to be....and good for you on so many levels...

sometimes Blogging does seem I don't know I do understand...

debi suggested a gardening blog ;-)

About the Cover you and Zip really nailed it- New Yorker just gave the Idiots their Tshirt for the Convention....
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