When I stumbled into my shorts late this morning, I was shocked to see huge red welts covering much of my calves. The welts weren't itchy, so I ruled out poison oak or ivy poisoning, but I didn't know what the heck caused them.
I knew the likely source was the hacking and attempted mowing of a trail on the south bank of my ZenRiver Gardens property on Saturday. I had flailed away with a scythe for several minutes until the waist high weeds had ripped off its cutting head! So I knew those damn weeks were vicious ... but I had no idea they'd exact their revenge in such dramatic fashion on my body. Talk about scarification, a tattoo artist would go to jail for torture for this brutal display!
So my beautiful ZenRiver Gardens, love of my life, the holistic poem I've chosen to live inside for the past decade, has become a jilted lover. Somehow, and I'm not really surprised, she knew that I was putting her up for sale - in her awareness I was preparing to sell her like a street corner whore in the marketplace.
I've enjoyed stewarding this little strip of the upper Moira River for almost exactly a decade. All 8 annual PurdyFests had campers enjoying her beauty while mingling with the resident tree and river spirits.
August long weekend
Now my retreat has exacted her jealous revenge - the agent, wild parsnip (pictured above). One blogger has said this noxious weed looks like what would be birthed if Queen Anne's Lace, Dill and Satan had a menage a trois! *
Will the river dakinis still sing for me, now that I'm a betrayer? Will double rainbows appear, blue herons execute loop de loops, or will other peaceful spirits turn on me to exact unexpected revenge?
*Josh Kilmer-Purcell from his posting BATTLING THE INVADERS
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On 2015-07-20, at 2:19 PM, Dr. John wrote:
Sent from my iPad
Say it ain't so! Selling the sacred land? 'Tis heavy news indeed. Damn, I'll miss that bit of God's green acres, as dimly remembered through the classic Tyskie haze. And then there is the rock that got the OM treatment. If a biker gang decides to make the land their headquarters, the resident dakinis will chase em off with whips and chains. Yep!
. . . .
Yeah, memories, memories, Dr. J
Can't see a biker gang buying God's green acres, tho - it's too nice for them, like when classical music was played to stop teens from hanging out on certain street corners ; ) And if there are any interested buyers, I'll have a say in who gets to be the next steward. After a decade of non-stop summer mowing, & with no more PurdyFest campers, at age 67 it seems time to find a new magician looking for a happy hideaway!
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This isn't my leg, but some of the burn marks on my right leg are actually much larger : )