Saturday afternoon we had a rain with all the trimmings. Lightning, tonnerre, wind, deluge – everything our little hearts desired. It’s been sooo dry for sooo long. Yessssssss, the parched earth says.
Even the cactus looked happier, although I will admit that’s it’s hard to tell with cacti, they hold their emotional cards pretty close to their spiny vests.
There are two small places on our routine hike at the Black Canyon where the claret cup cactus can be found, and right now they are blooming. Their color is amazing, really.
You can’t tell sizes from the photo, but the blossoms are a little bit bigger than a quarter. We look forward to seeing them each year when they flower, but that time is quite short. Mostly within a week they are done with it, start to finish.
BTW, it’s the Colorado state cactus. Who knew there was such a thing?
Saturday morning I decided to attend a local AA meeting that has been a part of my routine for several years. During the emergency I’ve only been to Zoom versions of that meeting.
My deal with myself was that if there were too many people in that room, or too many people not wearing masks, I would leave. I had no trouble making my decision, because when I went through the door and made my scan absolutely no one within view was wearing facial covering.
I spun on my heel and left. It’s not that scattered episodes of recklessness and irresponsibility are surprising during these uncertain times, but I don’t intend to join in with those who behave this way. My obligations to me and mine are not affected by what others do.
Robin is installing a sign in our front yard. She hasn’t decided exactly where to put it, but perhaps somewhere near the garden Buddha would be good. Up to her, though.
I like the graphics and love the message. We have no quarrel at all with those who carry signs saying “Black Lives Matter,” and we praise and support their efforts. But here in Montrose County there are so few folks who self-identify as black that perhaps this phrasing is a better fit.
Since I referenced our racial profile here in Montrose County, I thought you might find this graphic of our county’s makeup interesting.
Not quite monochromatic, but far from diverse.
Let’s see. This Sunday morning we remain in the midst of a plague, racially-inspired violence is playing out across the land, and we still have that sorry-ass example of a president, who is of no help at all. One bummer after another, n’est-ce pas?
So where’s the brighter day, today? Hmmm … how to find something upbeat … ?
- The plague will eventually peter out, one way or another, and most of us will still be here and complaining about the weather as always.
- Although the last racist will probably not perish in this milennium or the next, it seems that the meanings behind the words Black Lives Matter have a strong toe-hold in our national consciousness. This is a good and necessary thing that must happen before we can get moving again toward justice and equality and mutual respect. (We keep on taking pauses in that march, some so long we tend to forget why we’re out there and where we want to be eventually).
- November is coming and there is good reason to hope that P. Cluck and his merry band of world-ruiners will be turned out of office and dumped into the American History bin marked “Trash.” Once this happens we can begin to give his tweeting the attention it deserves, which is none at all.
There, now don’t we all feel better? I know I do.