This is just a brief post to mention there is some good in the world, despite a moron inspired by creeps killing innocents in Nice, and Turkey’s woes.
Not that those woes can match my own. If I had the time, and could afford to hire the violins, you’d weep for me. However the details don’t really matter. It is the emotion. And, because others have done better, I’ll just sit back and let them describe how you should weep.
There. Now that we have all had a good cry, (which is the refreshment of singing the blues), we can get back to business.
It is a small matter, among more pressing business, but my garden does require water. Otherwise it just dies. And, as I am supposedly in charge of keeping my garden productive, I have to find time to stand and do little but hold a hose. (There was a 15-year-old who I delegated this task to, but, because he is fifteen, he was not reliable.)
As I stood, watering with a hose, I decided I was inferior to a rain-cloud. I failed to water evenly, and was unfair to one carrot while I overdosed another. Also the water I used was well-water, which had filtered down through the roots of countless plants and had a great deal of goodness sucked out of it.
Far better is thunder rain. You see, as lightning flickers, and perhaps even before lightning flickers, when it is only thinking of flickering, some magic occurs that turns nitrogen in the air into nitrogen in water, in a form that nourishes plants. Then, as that water filters down through roots, plants suck that nitrogen from the water, so the water in your well is basically stripped of that benefit. Therefore, it logically follows, when you water your plants with well water you are a poor excuse for a rain-cloud. You water with water of an inferior quality.
If you pay attention to such things, you’ll notice that plants do not honor your work as much as they honor a passing shower. You can water and water and water, and plants barely inch upwards, because your watering lacks nitrogen, but then some careless thunder shower passes over, and the plants leap upwards a foot.
This seems unfair to me. In fact I think plants are stinking bigots. I am the victim of a hate crime. Thunder showers get preferential treatment. I demand equal pay for equal work. And so on and so forth. After all, it was blazingly hot as I watered. Perhaps I was getting dehydrated even as I hydrated plants. But that just made me feel more sorry for myself. It seemed the plants should appreciate me more, because I was going without so they could have what I lacked: Water.
However plants are not politically correct, and they simply tell it like it is: “Your water sucks, compared to thunder rain.”
Perhaps heat and dehydration was making me a bit crazy, but suddenly I thought I might understand how feminists feel when they, though childless, demand the same pay as a father of five, and get an illogical answer, “Your work sucks, compared to my work.”
Obviously work is work, just as water is water, but just as some water contains nitrogen and other water doesn’t, perhaps work holds a hidden ingredient.
As temperatures hit ninety in the shade, where official records are kept, they are over a hundred in the baking sunshine of a garden. Perhaps that heat made my mind mad. For, when I thought of feminists demanding equal pay for the same work that blue collar workers did, I found myself looking for some sort of nitrogen that one had that the other didn’t have.
It is politically incorrect to say this, but it is a statistic. The men more often were working for their wives than the single Moms were working for non-existent bum-husbands. Furthermore, in some cases the men were working for children they had made, while the women were working for children they had aborted. I know saying this is blasphemy, and not the whole story, but it does suggest things are not as simple as some suggest.
But I’m tired of things being so hard. Things would be so much easier if we didn’t have to wonder if our hoses held nitrogen.
Of course, we all know nature is cruel. We are taught that in school. Humanity is much smarter, are we not? Then why do we look to the sky and yearn for rain?
And such yearning is silly, is it not? What are the chances of such yearning being realized, and my garden being singled out for a splendid drenching of nitrogen-rich rain that is not unfair to one carrot while overdosing the next? And which, best of all, gets me off the hook, because I am not the one watering?
Oh! What a blessing is the sighing of unexpected rain, as the twilight fades in a roll of thunder.
There is some good in the world.