Some of these girls I have had since they were little clonelettes, back in 1996. They don’t survive in ground over winter, but have to be dug up, or cloned out again and re-root in jars over winter. I am going to experiment with straw and compost this fall, to see if they survive the wintering. I will take starts of course…
I have had great satisfaction in the growing of this plant. I thoroughly enjoy our interactions in and out of the ground…
Mary and Rowan being good sports. You my as well tie their ankles to a stake than get a willing photo out of them. My camera has become an object to flee around here, unfortunately.
They see it come out, and they scatter like the wind.
My ex-sister in law, Lisa gave us a moon and a star that have solar batteries. Usually, I like pitch dark at night but for some reason I like thetwo lights out there.
Mary and Rowan hanging out in the Gloaming. My favourite time, the in-betweenies as I say.
If the insects leave you alone (which does occur, usually when my mind is unclouded, I find this one of the better periods for quiet contemplation.
Ah, that is the secret of the garden I think, it reflects back very well, and also seems to ground one very well….
Putting your hands into earth, caring for all the little beings and plants gets one out of ones self.
On the Menu:
The Quote of the Day
The Article: Big Brother Bugs Portland
On the Garden: Zen Quotes & Poetry
Life and Death in the Garden.
The Bee was caught in the web of the Spider, and of course the spider was delighted, the Bee lless so. Their dance went on for hours. I wanted to free the Bee, but desisted. Obviously from the early moments of creation, this moment had been forming, and now was in full flower.
Eventually, they killed each other in their struggles…
Quote of the Day:
The Bible tells us to be like God, and then on page after page it describes God as a mass murderer. This may be the single most important key to the political behavior of Western Civilization.
Robert Anton Wilson
The inner leaves of our Variegated Brugmansia. Amazing flowers on this little darling, which somehow survives year after year here. (with a bit of help of course)
We have tons of datura this year, always a good omen…
Simon Maxwell Apter
To George H.W. Bush, Portland, Oregon, is ” Little Beirut.” Downtown’s omnipresent bicycle messengers call the city “Stumptown,” and officially, the town is known as the City of Roses. In a move more befitting, perhaps, the presidential Casa Rosada in Buenos Aires circa 1982, and not the Rose City of Portland circa 2006, the FBI has been accused by Portland Mayor Tom Potter of “trying to place an informant inside the offices of Portland’s elected officials and employees, in order to inform on City Council and others.”
Since the end of the Age of Aquarius, when thousands of Californians began to migrate north to Oregon, Portland has never been particularly welcoming to the executive branch of the federal government–especially when said branch is in Republican control. Portland’s two Representatives in Congress are Democrats, and Portland’s county, Multnomah, voted for John Kerry over Bush in 2004 by nearly a 3-to-1 ratio. Moreover, in April 2005, the City Council voted, along with the mayor–and with overwhelming support from the citizenry–to withdraw Portland’s participation in the FBI-led Joint Terrorism Task Force project.
Upon Portland’s withdrawal from the task force, NPR’s Larry Abramson noted, “Portlanders seem proud of their bluer-than-blue reputation, of the bumper stickers that proclaim ‘Keep Portland Weird.’ So maybe it was predictable that the city mocked as Little Beirut by conservatives is considering a symbolic declaration of independence.” And tucked away in the Pacific Northwest, with no Jerry Garcia or Kurt Cobain to worship, Portland has made its commitment to progressive politics the city’s calling card. The mayor’s seat is officially nonpartisan, and where major policy is concerned, the mayor has little more power than anyone else on the four-member City Council. With a robust public referendum system that presents voters with potential tax proposals, constitutional amendments and bond issues, Portland’s political system does Montesquieu proud.
By state law, police officers in Oregon are barred from investigating citizens based solely on their political, religious or social leanings, and Portlanders will be quick to point out that it was the Feds, and not local cops, who erroneously arrested local attorney Brandon Mayfield in connection to the 3/11 Madrid train bombings in May 2004. After the bogus fingerprint evidence used to arrest him fell through, the only credible “reason” behind the police action turned out to be Mayfield’s religion, which happened to be Islam.
“In the absence of any reasonable suspicion of wrongdoing,” wrote Mayor Potter in an open letter to the city, “I believe the FBI’s recent actions smack of ‘Big Brother.’ Spying on local government without justification or cause is not acceptable to me. I hope it is not acceptable to you, either.”
Of course, the FBI has a different take. In a press release coming on the heels of Potter’s letter, the Portland office of the FBI stated, “It is entirely proper for an FBI agent to ask willing citizens to provide information when those citizens feel it is appropriate to do so regarding potential criminal conduct–whether that information involves a bank robbery, kidnapping, public corruption or other crime.” Like most of America’s major cities, Portland is rife with problems, many stemming from poverty and racism–but a Tammany or Richard J. Daley-style system has never taken root in City Hall at Southwest Fourth and Madison.
Few, including Mayor Potter, Portland’s former chief of police, doubt the capability of information gathered in the field to further the prosecution of governmental graft. In Portland’s case, though, there were and are no reasons to suspect corruption at City Hall. Indeed, when Potter first complained about the incident to the FBI on May 15, special agent Robert Jordan, head of the FBI field office in Portland, wondered if his man was merely hitting on the city employee.
With no evidence unearthed at City Hall to warrant a federal investigation, it’s a “presumed guilty” situation. Potter acknowledges as much, writing, “When there is no information to indicate ANY public corruption on the part of City Council members or employees, the FBI has no legitimate role in surreptitiously monitoring elected officials and city employees.”
If the NSA has claimed ordinary civilians as their own targets for surveillance, perhaps it’s only fitting that the FBI is now venturing into the rotundas and council rooms of America’s cities to find its own prey.
On the Garden: Zen Quotes & Poetry
Mountain fruit drop in the rain
and grass insects sing under my oil lamp.
White hair, after all, can never change
as yellow gold cannot be created.
If you want to know how to get rid
of age, its sickness, study nonbeing.
– Wang Wei, 699-761
Crape myrtle, brilliant red, bursting forth;
Hiding the garden.
Some days, only the Garden, entire, serene;
Yet, hiding from sight, shy, single plants.
Seeing Both, seldom, but as One:
Sweat poured from my startled brow,
Dripping on the dry earth,
And all became Sunshine
And shadows of surprise unraveling.
– Michael P. Garofalo, Above the Fog
Being and non-being produce each other.
Difficulty and ease bring about each other.
Long and short delimit each other.
High and low rest on each other.
Sound and voice harmonize each other.
Front and back follow each other.
Therefore the sage abides in the condition of unattached action.
And carries out the wordless teaching.
Here, the myriad things are made, yet not separated.
Dust and sand in his eyes, dirt in his ears,
He doesn’t consent to stay in the myriad peaks.
Falling flowers, flowing streams, very vast.
Suddenly raising my eyebrows – where has he gone?
– Hsueh-tou (980-1052)
Even plants and trees,
Which have no heart,
Wither with the passing days;
Can anyone help but feel chagrin?
– Dogen, 1200 – 1253
Long ago there was an immortal man
Who lived on the slope of Shooting Mountain.
Riding clouds and commanding flying dragons,
He did his breathing and supped on precious flowers.
He could be heard, but not seen.
Sighing sorrows and full emotions,
Self-tortured, he had no companion;
Grief and heartbreak piled upon him
“Study the familiar to penetrate the sublime”
But time is short and what’s to be done?
– Juan Chi (210-263 CE)
Moon to the south… our last photo entry on this track, more to come I am sure…