"I grow plants for many reasons: to please my eye or to please my soul, to challenge the elements or to challenge my patience, for novelty or for nostalgia, but mostly for the joy in seeing them grow."
— David Hobson
AUBURN — My garden is growing as fast as the furor over the president’s fusillade of pathetic and juvenile tweets.
If you are looking for fireworks on this Fourth of July, look no farther than our nation’s capital.
Nonsense in the White House thrives and my plants are also flourishing thanks to tender loving care, which is absent in Washington D.C.
There is little evidence of compassion from our leaders, but here on the open range in Maine, we treat our garden like we treat other human beings — with love and devotion.
But you can’t fix stupidity in the nation’s capital, where incessant backbiting and barbs hang over our nation, sparking hate and rage across the country.
Enough about politicians who can’t play well with others and refuse to work for the greater good. There is a garden to tend to in spite of our capital that is hopelessly awash in anger and ineptness.
Garden of delight
Barring a tornado, tsunami or an errant tweet, my flower and vegetable gardens are looking sturdy and I have seen a bloom or two, giving me confidence in this season’s endeavor.
My potato plants appear to be taking performance-enhancing drugs without my knowledge. This is the first time I have planted to potatoes because my wife wanted fresh taters. I quickly agreed to preserve peace and prosperity in the Blasi household. Of course, I don’t like sleeping on the couch, either.
The zucchini and summer squash plants are on a mission, but I confess that I had to use a touch of pesticide to combat aphids and cucumber bugs to keep those vegetables healthy. The peppers, always late bloomers, are getting there and that could be said for my eggplants. Lettuce and spinach grown from seed are looking real good, especially with some Newman’s Own salad dressing smeared all over those leafy greens.
My yard also supplies me with fresh apples, blueberries and pears.
While we wait for our leaders to do their jobs, I will be out in the garden tending to my flock of fantastic plants, but the bilious politicians, who can’t reach a compromise or stop berating each over the Internet, won’t be on the receiving end of fresh vegetables from me.
Sweet birds of youth
Mourning doves have no fear.
They are handsome pigeons that hum their laments mornings and evenings. When they are startled, they fly away with a distinct whistling sound.
They waddle underneath my bird feeder picking up scraps. They often travel in pairs and are not intimidated by human beings, especially this 6-foot-3, 300-pound man who marvels at creatures great and small.
They just give me a glance and keep on pecking at the ground.
I needed some air and stepped out in the front yard to seat myself at an outdoor table on a muggy July night. I looked down for a moment and there were two young mourning doves not startled in the least. They came within two feet of me and just sat there looking at me. I closed my eyes, nodded off in my lawn chair and they just rested with me.
Amazing.
We have a variety of birds that visit the front yard. A row of thick hedges gives them cover.
I sat there for 40 minutes as the pair of birds and I stared at each other.
Some people say mourning doves represent death. I say that is a bunch of crap from superstitious people who should know better.
They are cute, cuddly, and I enjoy their sweet, sad song. They are always welcomed in my yard.
Anyway, happy birthday, America. As an optimist, I know we will weather poor leadership and reaffirm our resilience on this holiday.
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