April Showers Brought May Flowers

I've got lots of new plants in the yard this year.  Here's my verbena.  According to folk legend, it was used to stop the bleeding from Jesus' wounds when he was taken down from the cross.  It seems too lovely for such a sad use.

Whenever I see the name Gerbera daisy, I think of Gerber's Baby Food.  This is unfortunate, for this delightful plant ought not to generate such a mundane image.

The botanical name for the pincushion flower is scabiosa, which sounds like a disease.  We'll stick with pincushion.

Spirea is properly spelled spiraea.  It rhymes with Crimea, Korea, and Medea (according to the online Merriam-Webster Dictionary).  It has medicinal properties similar to aspirin, though an overdose could be fatal.

This Virginia Spiderwort looks like a wreath.  Native Americans used the plant to treat a host of maladies including insect bites, kidney trouble, stomach aches, cancer, and "female ailments and rupture."  I imagine our forebears produced these medicines more safely, simply, and cheaply than the pharmaceuticals that are foisted on us today.

Bacopa is supposed to improve your memory.  Dr. Oz recommends taking 150 mg per day, but Dr. Weil recommends crossword puzzles, reading, and other more rigorously-studied supplements.  If I could, I'd like to know what the Native Americans recommend; they seem more knowledgeable.

On Memorial Day. . .

. . . a fitting quote from Mark Twain:
"Patriotism is supporting your country all the time, and your government when it deserves it."

Tarmac Times

Yesterday I got to do something I haven't done in a long time--see someone off at the airport from inside the airlines gate.  Ever since September 11 we've had to drop people off--pull up to the curb, unload their bags, and speed away.  But since Miranda flew as an unaccompanied minor ("UMMMMMM," as we call her) to Boston last night, I was able to be with her until she boarded her plane.

Here's a song to celebrate the memory of old times at the airport.  Sing to the tune of Peter, Paul & Mary's "Leaving on a Jet Plane":

So your bags are packed, you're ready to go
I'm standing here inside the gate
Watching all the planes glide in and out
But they haven't called your row just yet
The pilot's smokin' a cigarette
Already I'm so sad to see you go.

So kiss me and smile for me
Turn around and wave at me
Let me know that you'll be back again
You're leavin' on that jet plane
The one that's on the tarmac now
I'll wait and watch you go.

There's so many times I dropped you off
When the TSA don't let you stop
I tell you now, they've changed everything
For we're all potential terrorists
With suspicious shoes and underwear
We're patted down, it's all too much to bear.

So kiss me and smile for me
Turn around and wave at me
Let me know that you'll be back again
You're leavin' on that jet plane
The one that's on the tarmac now
I'll wait and watch you go.

Minister in Chief

Not long after the Boston bombings a friend of mine was seeking theological wisdom to help process the attack.  When we both realized that neither her rabbi nor my minister had offered anything especially helpful, I suggested that she watch President Obama's comments on YouTube.  They were both thoughtful and profound, I told her.

I was reminded of this conversation when I listened to the president's response this week to the tornado in Oklahoma.  Once again, he offered spiritual solace not only to those directly involved but to all of us in the midst of tragedy.  Has he defined a new role for the presidency?

If so, he's good at it--which may account in part for his steady approval ratings.  His unusual equanimity rarely gives way.  That he can speak of the unspeakable time and again defuses some of the terror that accompanies these events.

Minister in Chief is probably not listed in the president's job description.  But this work done well makes all the difference.

A Dog's Life: Cassidy

"An animal's eyes. . .

. . . have the power to speak a great language."

- Martin Buber

Ants on the Move

When I told our electrician this week that I was battling ants, he replied, "Who isn't?"  I guess I'm not alone.  Here's a song about this latest invasion, a version of "The Ants Go Marching":

The ants go marching ten by ten, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching ten by ten, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching ten by ten
I see they're back in my house again
And they all go marching down to the ground to get out of my way.
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom.

The ants go marching eight by eight, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching eight by eight, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching eight by eight
I set out traps that are filled with bait
And they all go marching down to the ground to get out of my way.
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom.

The ants go marching six by six, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching six by six, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching six by six,
I smash two more with a ton of bricks
And they all go marching down to the ground to get out of my way.
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom.

The ants go marching four by four, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching four by four, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching four by four
I think it's time to declare a war
And they all go marching down to the ground to get out of my way.
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom.

The ants go marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching two by two
I flush them both right down the loo
And they all go marching down to the ground to get out of my way.
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom.

The ants go marching zero by zero, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching zero by zero, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching zero by zero
I now declare myself a hero
'Til they all come marching up from the ground to get back in my way.
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom.

May Monotony

The news this week, I'm sorry to say, isn't interesting to me.  I loved the photos of Chris Christie and Prince Harry, and Angelina Jolie's disclosure was provocative on many levels.  But otherwise, the reporting of this week's events--the IRS, the AP, Benghazi--seems overridden by hyperbole and distortion.  So I'm posting a picture of my columbine instead.