13 May 2022
Fort Living Room, somewhere in Mississippi:
The lawncare specialist I hired to maintain my yard this summer came by yesterday and mowed my lawn. My cabin sits on a hill, and it’s lovely here during the spring and summer months. Flowers bloom, my rose bushes really show out. They are deep red, blood red I would say, and they are a sight to behold.
My peonies bloomed first though. They were a delicate pink with a bright yellow center. As the roses began to bud and open, the peonies died. In between all of that though my irises came out. They are always a pleasure to watch.
This morning, I got up and thought of my friends from my days at war. We were a wild bunch of heathens. Loud, boisterous, and more than just a little obscene, we lived life like we would not face any consequences in the future.
There was a wildness about us, much like my unworked flower beds, and even after being separated from the war, it’s touch still shows in our eyes.
My irises are deep purple on the bottom, the borders tinged with a goldish crème’ and white center.
This afternoon, I walked out on my porch and looked toward my flower bed next to the propane tank. Poison sumac runs up the pine trees near it but standing alone in the corner was a freshly bloomed iris.
“Hmm,” I muttered. “It’s a late bloomer.”
And strangely enough, I traveled back to yesterday when I had a conversation with the guy who cut my grass. He spoke of his son, and what he envisioned for him.
“I want him to get a scholarship and go to college,” he told me. “Or at least be good enough at his sport to get some help with the expenses.”
“Yeah, it’s expensive. I didn’t go to college until I was 40.”
After a few more words, I let him get started on my grass. As usual, he did a fantastic job cutting it. Here in the country, I am surrounded by wildlife and some semblance of wilderness. There’s not much left of our ‘wilderness’ days, but out here in the backwoods we do what we can to hold onto it.
We shouldn’t be in such a hurry to discard our past, some of it is worth holding onto.
My Tiger Lilies will bloom next, and although I am excited to see them bloom, I am saddened, because after they have their moment in the sun, all I’ll have left are my roses.
We all have our moment to bloom, and we each have something beautiful to offer. Like my stubborn iris out by the propane tank, we bloom when it’s our season.
So, I hope this bit encouraged someone. The photos above are from my flower beds. I hope you enjoy them too.