I love violets. Why are they called weeds? When I was a kid, I'd make them wrestle by hooking their stems together and pulling. One head would come off and the other would be the winner. I don't think kids do silly games like that anymore. Like making a grasshopper spit anbeer, or looking for 4-leaf clovers, or playing with toads.
You can eat violets, but I haven't tried them. I did have some dandelion greens cooked with pork a few weeks ago, that my mother made. Maybe Chip could come up with a lovely flower salad--or maybe he already has!
I have those in my yard -- but I'd been assuming they were weeds, and would have pulled them out, only then I'd be left with dirt instead of what-I-thought-were-weeds, and I couldn't see that as an improvement.
"To date, Hubble has looked at over 30,000 celestial objects and amassed over one-half million pictures in its archive. The last heroic astronaut servicing mission to Hubble in May 2009 made it 100 times more powerful than when it was launched. In addition to its irreplaceable scientific importance, Hubble brings cosmic wonders into millions of homes and schools every day. For the past 20 years the public has become co-explorers with this wondrous observatory."
I am already at war with the relentless green growth of spring. And it's only going to get worse. Who was it who said May is green hell? Well, he was right.
Try to remember the kind of November when life was slow and oh, so mellow. Try to remember the kind of November when grass was dormant and weeds aslumber. Try to remember the kind of November when ricpic were a tender and callow fellow, Try to remember and if you remember then follow (ricpic to the polls and vote the bastards out of office in November).
Haha, Meade. In our corner of Dane County, one of the non-lefty neighbor farmers, a real "worker," has hung out the "Don't Tread on Me[ade]" flag on his mailbox.
Fortunately, a robust Malamute and an imposing Newfie guard the property.
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13 comments:
Spring! You can almost smell the green from your photo!
Very nice!
Who says green and purple don't go together?
I love violets. Why are they called weeds? When I was a kid, I'd make them wrestle by hooking their stems together and pulling. One head would come off and the other would be the winner. I don't think kids do silly games like that anymore. Like making a grasshopper spit anbeer, or looking for 4-leaf clovers, or playing with toads.
You can eat violets, but I haven't tried them. I did have some dandelion greens cooked with pork a few weeks ago, that my mother made. Maybe Chip could come up with a lovely flower salad--or maybe he already has!
Toy
I have those in my yard -- but I'd been assuming they were weeds, and would have pulled them out, only then I'd be left with dirt instead of what-I-thought-were-weeds, and I couldn't see that as an improvement.
From the Hubble Space Observatory Site:
"To date, Hubble has looked at over 30,000 celestial objects and amassed over one-half million pictures in its archive. The last heroic astronaut servicing mission to Hubble in May 2009 made it 100 times more powerful than when it was launched. In addition to its irreplaceable scientific importance, Hubble brings cosmic wonders into millions of homes and schools every day. For the past 20 years the public has become co-explorers with this wondrous observatory."
I am already at war with the relentless green growth of spring. And it's only going to get worse. Who was it who said May is green hell? Well, he was right.
Try to remember the kind of November
when life was slow and oh, so mellow.
Try to remember the kind of November
when grass was dormant and weeds aslumber.
Try to remember the kind of November
when ricpic were a tender and callow fellow,
Try to remember and if you remember then follow (ricpic to the polls and vote the bastards out of office in November).
"I can see November from my window."
Irene,
Yup!
"They're our [lefty] next door neighbors and you can actually see [November] from land here in [Madison]."
Haha, Meade. In our corner of Dane County, one of the non-lefty neighbor farmers, a real "worker," has hung out the "Don't Tread on Me[ade]" flag on his mailbox.
Fortunately, a robust Malamute and an imposing Newfie guard the property.
Sounds like a true workers' paradise over there, Irene.
I tip my sweaty old trucker's hat.
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