Monday, June 20, 2011

Gimme Some Weeds

My lunch-time hangout

Summertime, and the weeds are high. Lots of weeds. An entire acre of weeds. And I'm tired of dealing with them. And speaking of weed, this weekend I went to "One Night With Janis Joplin" at Portland Center Stage's Main Stage in the Gerding Theater at the Armory, in Portland. It is a musical about the influences of blues and show-tunes in Janis Joplin's life which shaped her career. As I sat in the 4th row, trying to decide whether to use the little earplugs they handed out, I noticed most of the heads bopping to Try (Just a Little Bit Harder) and, Me and Bobby McGee, were gray. I studied the audience and realized almost everyone was in their fifties and sixties. Instead of the sweet, pungent odor one would normally associate with a Janis Joplin concert, there was the distinct aroma of BenGay and Halls Mentho-Lyptus.

When did I become old?

What's worse, I've been humming "Summertime" and I'm not sure if it is Joplin's version or the one from Porgy and Bess. How old am I?

And then at lunch time today, at my favorite spot where the Canada Geese hang out during early spring and late fall, a bee buzzed around some beautiful weeds. These weeds were so beautiful, it was all I could do not to jump out and pick one. Why don't I ever have beautiful weeds? Gimme weeds like this and I'd be okay with them. But all I get are thistle, ragwort, and blackberries, mixed in with grass and dandelions.

Why are the weeds in someone else's yard more beautiful?

So, when I came home today, I looked at my own weeds. Ugly. What is up with that? I'm hiring a man with a tractor and a brush hog, as soon as I can get him here. Mow everything to the ground, I'll say.

And then where will Bambi hide?

And maybe, while the tractor is putt-putting along, I'll stand in my yard and sing Fantasia Barrino's version of "Summertime."


  1. I'm becoming more and more like my parents every day, which is a really scarey thought.

  2. Patti

    It is frightening the first time you see yourself in the mirror and see your mother. Well, the second time, too.


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