7 thoughts on ““Deranged Dragon Fly”

    • I have a struggling small but brancy-and-over-leafed Southern Magnolia struggling to come out-from-under the tall White Oak at the yard’s northeastern corner, within paces of the garden, in which I perch a hammock or a garden chair of plastic to read, sip, sup and watch the ongoings. In Fall, Winter and Spring I keep tabs on school kids and their scofflaw parents bringing into their afternoon lives more wonderful examples of privilege, entitlement and atrocious driving marred by mind-my-courtesylessness if you please. In just Summer, to steal and modify from Edward Estlin (e.e.) Cummings, I drink sun tea spiked with potato squeezin’s or jaimiaca – a caribbean/mexican tea of dehydrated and reconsitituted hibiscus leaves, and ambush those who think my little patch of veg is just another aisle in their shopping world. If they ‘pologize and stay I show them around and offer to give seeds and sets to help them the coming Fall. Sadly, too few take me up. Shame, I think. For getting caught? I suspect.

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      • Well, it’s their loss. I would take you up and stop in. Oh and I have a magnolia in our garden. How it survived at all, crouching under the forest of other trees, plants and the fence that had fallen in on them all, I don’t know. I left it bent. In fact all the shrubs in that corner are cos of these years of neglect but it’s quite Japanese looking that corner and while I ain’t a gardener as such I’m quite pleased with the way it looks. It’s a lovely tree.

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  1. That and a brisk North(ish) wind. I prefer my Bonsai outside and bent by nature and as dirt allows. Nothing worse than an old tire suspended from a tree by a chain that after decades has been subsumed into the limb, like a slowly strangled person. I called my old home a “frontyard jungle” wherein my hammock and I were near invisible as I read, sipped and reclined and watched a Summer slowly bake into submission just a few yards from my post where jaybirds would flit overhead on their way to a constantly refilled bird bar and bath saloon. One of my revolving banners is of the hammock and archaic yellow shrimp plants and another I believe involves said jay bird taking a sip from the margarita glass broiling pan actually-shaped bird bar and bath. Two black snakes mated but five feet from my tootsies one Summer mid-morning beside the hammock. Alas, no rabbits volunteering for a nice Belgian stew – and the squirrels as well as wabbits are too ridden by year-round parasites between skin-and-flesh (it never gets cold for sustained periods enough to make consuming said animal flesh smart – but I do fondly recall the rabbit stew dad made on camping trips in mid-winter Newfoundland as he escorted a series of senior Navy brass and congressional critters. Locally we have farm-raised and readied-for-cooking quail, rabbits and venison, but, alack and alas, no squirrel. Southerners in states with real winter make a vicious stew which includes both squirrel and rabbit and serve it in the heights of (American) football season. Mulligan Stew. And oysters sometimes crawl by for a swim in said stew.

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