On the tree of life, I am but a twig. A twig with a powerful desire to go back to bed and stay there until I feel better. I’m beginning to wonder what feeling better feels like. Would I recognize it if I bumped into it?
The goldenrod is blooming and it’s lovely. I can hardly stop sneezing when I’m near it, but a long lens really helps a lot. Although to be fair, nothing entirely stops the sneezing, the gritty eyes, and the hoarse voice. They come with the territory of pollen.
Whoever said “allergies don’t make you sick” never had allergies.
Tuesday was election day. I’m sure pretty much everyone everywhere knows that. We voted. Then, I took pictures. Not a lot of pictures. A few around town. It shows no election-related activity. None, at all. Which was worrying at the time, and more understandable now. The lack of enthusiasm was unusual, something I hadn’t previously experienced.
The texture is the velvet softness of roses, the sharpness of thorns … and a bee.
These are probably the last roses of 2016 … and likely, the final bee. I was glad to see a bee. There have not been nearly enough of them recently.
I hear that there are anti-Trump protests all over the country in the big cities. Well, gee, talk about a dollar short and a day late. How many of these marchers went and voted, when it mattered? Do they now think that these protests are going to make him quit? Seriously? All it’s going to do it piss him off.
I am still seeking intelligent life on Earth, but I’m beginning to seriously wonder if I’ll ever find it.