Sunday, July 3, 2016

Saturnine (NOT Saturnalia) Saturday

The Mamas and the Papas say, "All the leaves are brown (all the leaves are brown),
and the sky is grey (and the sky is grey.)"  

Friend, you've gone away and seen, up-close, people who only get the Crayola Crayon misfits (sepia, raw sienna, burnt sienna, mahogany) and not even enough of those. The world you return to, all of us swimming in technicolor bounty, doesn't make sense anymore, doesn't seem fair. 

I considered what you had to say.  I went for three days without having an appetite for food, or washing my hair. I was ashamed of  my guiltiest pleasure, my subscription to "FIRST for Women," and thought about letting it expire. I peeked out from under the covers, and  told you I thought perhaps you'd gone too far, and then I felt so guilty and selfish for telling  you that, I went dark inside for awhile.  I'm a magnet for what my brother calls, "silly guilt." 
There's a way of sharing without getting rid of things that are not essential for sustaining life but  make life worth living. The "orchid," "tickle me pink," "purple mountains' majesty" and "lavender" of a multi-rank pipe organ.  "Scarlet" toenails on a sultry day and "dandelion" flip-flops with a little fake bling.  What the heck, a little real "gold" bling.  A "wild strawberry" day at the water park,  and "indigo" jazz CD's. Everything in moderation! and then, there are those rare, red-letter days on which "moderation is a fatal thing," when, as Oscar Wilde said, "nothing succeeds like excess."

(The day I am writing this, Saturday July 2, is actually a good day. I planted an R27182818 milkweed img 0312.jpg Asclepias speciosa (aka Milkweed) next to the butterfly bush that I planted last year in the hellstrip. Come to mama, monarch butterflies!)

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