the mysteries of life

It’s me yet again; Chess the dog, Chess the purebred border collie, Chess the provider of all the excellent posts on this blog, like “Pictures of Me”, and Chess the frightener of large predatory birds.

Here I am on my walk this morning. You can see that the grass was mowed, just like I said it would be. In a couple of months this will be nothing but weeds. It’s a complete mystery to me.


I think people are slightly crazy. They seem to have a weed mania, and a mowing mania, and these two manias don’t go well together. Almost no weeds on the left side here. They took down the black fence thing because somebody must have thought it was a good idea to take down the black fence thing. Say, for instance, that someone was thinking of doing something in the field here. They could have re-sown the grass seed on the right side of the field, or take down the black fence thing. They decided to take down the black fence thing.

Our house is off to the left, but you can’t see it. That’s the cottonwood that the guy I live with has posted pictures of from time to time. (He wouldn’t like that last sentence but, really, he should be astounded that a dog can post stuff in the first place.)


Here I am looking at the other side of the field. Nothing but weeds. Of course, the smooth brome I’m standing on is a weed too, but of a different kind.


Dogs like tall grass.


There was something here that I thought was really interesting. I never found out what it was. I spent a long time looking for it, though. Kind of like Whitman, you know, Where is what I started for so long ago/ And why is it yet unfound?


The guy I live with wasn’t in a Whitmanesque mood and eventually tugged me back on to the path. That might in itself have been Whitmanesque, but I think I was the only one who noticed it.


I scared a hawk in the field. It flew up on the roof of this shed, as you can see. The hawk was almost as big as I am; it would be as big if I were as small. (The guy I live with insists on me using the subjunctive here.)


I’m supposed to say that I know this blog is mostly about gardening, and not entirely about me (which would make it the most fascinating of all blogs), and so here’s a plant. The guy I live with says the label says Fritillaria caucasica but it sure looks like Ornithogalum nutans to me. There are people who believe that if you plant a bulb it can come up as something else, but I don’t believe that. I think the label is wrong.


Here’s another plant. The guy I live with stuck some seed of Biarum carduchorum in the ground last winter, and look what happened. This certainly looks like a baby aroid to me.

Not the violet thing, though. There are these little violets all over the rock garden, and it drives the guy I live with crazy. For someone who’s entered his declining years, that’s not saying much.


So that was our day. The guy I live with moved more rocks, so now the back yard is filled with flat rocks. It looks, well, different. When people come to the garden they’ll look at the back yard and wonder why there are all these flat rocks lying around.

I wonder too.

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6 Responses to the mysteries of life

  1. Violets are a curse.

    • paridevita says:

      I do like the regular violet, Viola odorata, which has seeded around here quite a bit, even in this dry garden. I planted some named varieties as well.

  2. Cliff Booker says:

    LOVE IT!!! … and violets ARE a curse.

    • paridevita says:

      I know. Viola cotyledon in particular. Coronifera and vulcanica too. They threatened to take over the rock garden, and I despaired of ever getting rid of them, but finally succeeded.

  3. acantholimon says:

    Looks like O. nutans to me, however…I was curious what you are declining? Latin nouns? German? Catalog solicitations? I’ve always thought of you as an accepting sorta guy.

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