So what if the improbable path is a tad overgrown? After all, you can still make out the stepping stones, but not over there, as some pernicious weed is overstepping its wafer-thin authority. Always seems to happen. Still, the offender in question has the stealth of an assassin and this leads me to conclude, after years of careful study, that members of the plant kingdom are untrustworthy, as opposed to, shall we say, your average blog narrator.
Parenthetically, I am informed by my editor, who is partial to all things lavender, that 'straighttalkedness' is not a word in any true sense; and for such shortsightedness I dismissed her summarily and asked her to kindly take all her aromatherapy paraphernalia with her—splitting an infinitive in the process, a little something designed to raise the hackles of my now jobless greenhorn editor.
And while giving consideration to the kingdom Plantae, I would be wholely remiss if I were not to touch upon the perennial concept of beauty (and of horrid puns). Plants, those photosynthesizing conjurers, often avails themselves of tawdry lures such as sporting a coat of pubescent fuzz, the mere touch of which excites, or having the audacity to exude heady perfumes, or wantonly displaying colors which shock the soul.
And so, Eve shockingly tempted Adam with a brick red apple. Apple seeds contain cyanide. Do you see where I am going with this? Did Eve really want to knock off her first beau or is this the story of how plants are trying to kill us? An interesting narrative challenge, to be sure. My belief is that plants are indeed trying to murder us, in our sleep or as we wake, and that we are hardwired to respond to narratives. More about these intriguing though disparate concepts later, perhaps.
Nevertheless, the plan for the first pandemic garden is that of a simple circle. Yet can circles be anything but simple? This is a rhetorical question and you, my dear reader, ought not rush headlong into proffering an answer—unless you squarely want to. Circle and square, ying and yang: this sort of musing is beyond the purview of this blog, as is ultimately the meaning of mathematics or the reasons why you’re always tongue-tied when it comes to justifying your monthly expenses.
Then there’s this obsession you, dear blogofile readers slash viewers, have with pictures. Not to disappoint I will occasionally include visual aids, even though words ought probably be enough. And what was it Susan Sontag said about photography? It’s all murky to me now and my temperature is rising. But we are in the 21st century, in the middle of a pandemic, and we need to step back and do something bold and invigorating, such as planting a garden.
So here’s a nifty info-graphic of my pandemic-induced brainchild:
This week I shall purchase a camera with the money I'm saving on bus fare; subsequently, you shall be able to regale in the type of verisimilitude (a literary term—how strange that should crop up here, along with another terribly bad pun) that only the labour of photographic equipment can bring to the blogosphere. When words fail, a picture never disappoints, unless it’s of the wrong thing, or that the focus isn’t spot on, or that the lens cap you should have removed irretrievably darkens your picture.
Till the next time, when I shall reveal the names of the newly planted trees. They are South American in origin, and so is the palm smack-dab in the middle, curiously enough. And at the base of the palm (not part of the pandemic plan) is an Argentinian Morning Glory. So, we have a near-perfect design and thematic unity—and this is only day one! What more could you ask for? You are perusing a free blog after all.
The unlabeled tufts of growth are probably weeds.
