Now is the winter of our discontent
made miserable summer by the sun unhampered by clouded sky
nor air cooled by northern breeze.
That we might in the deep bosom of the ocean bury
our remembrance of such torrid days.
Torrid days, horrid days about which I vowed
I hate cold more than I despise the heat.
I lied; I carp, I snivel and complain. I am
no better than all my like-afflicted kin. *
(Look! There is yet some green in my lawn!)
*Lines from Bob Warr and Picket Fences.
(Look! There is yet some green in my lawn!)
*Lines from Bob Warr and Picket Fences.
4 comments:
Brilliant! I stand beside you in the -sediment- er ah sentiment.
I have green in my lawn too. Queen Ann's lace, buckhorn, clover, and crab grass.
If the past is an indicator of the future, next year will be different.
So appropos!
I admit defeat to this summer. No use complaining about the rain clouds who pass by, smugly, not dropping a single drop. I wear shoes instead of going barefoot in our usually plush lawn. I water to keep the perennials, shrubs and trees alive to enjoy another summer.
Ugh. I do not like this.
Chuck, remember the old song "If it weren't for crabgrass, I'd have no grass at all"? I think your catalog pretty much inventories my lawn.
Shelly, I try to keep in mind the fact that many others are worse off than I. But then, I am not only feeling sorry for myself, but for a whole raft of thers as well.
Lin, until I got sick last Monday, I tried to keep a few plants alive.
Oh, well. There will be another season. And did you see Chuck's garden pictures?
Post a Comment