A Historic Day (First Ever Cosmos Bloom)

Here it is y’all. First ever cosmos bloom by the hands of Gardener Steve.

I woke up this morning and checked the garden as usual, although lately, as there haven’t been many developments, I haven’t been as consistent about looking in the garden. Well, this morning, I was overjoyed and delighted to see a huge, bright, yellow new flower in my garden. That is this cosmos, and this is a particularly exciting bloom because it has told me, finally, what I’ve really wanted to know. What we’ve all been wanting to know. Were these generic green, springy plants common ragweed? (Undesirable, although native.) Or were they cosmos?

Google Lens had consistently ID’ed these as common ragweed. And I couldn’t remember where I had planted cosmos seeds, so I couldn’t even know if I had planted cosmos here, and if they had any hope of being cosmos. But I was holding out hope, and I almost pulled them out of the ground, in my rage, thinking they were just useless ragweeds. I held on, just in case, and look. They really were cosmos. I can’t believe it.

I started to really have hope about a week ago, when I was walking to the record store. We (Parker and I) passed a neighbor’s yard that was loaded with cosmos, and I saw the buds at the end of the stalks, the future flowers, and I thought, those look just like the buds on my potential cosmos. That’s a good sign! They look exactly the same! But I wasn’t going to get my hopes up too much. No, I’ve been burned before….

And then, yesterday, finally a bud opened up, and it looked like it was going to be a flower, but it was restrained and drooping a bit. I think because it was fresh, and the heat was intense. I thought maybe the flower wasn’t in good health, but this morning, I stepped out and saw that flash of yellow, glorious beaming flower, perfectly healthy and radiant. Not ragweed!!!! But, cosmos??

It looks so much like Coreopsis or something around that I thought I actually had something else entirely, neither cosmos or ragweed. But the internet helped me to ID the flower, and it said, cosmos. A cosmos sulphureus, looks like, as I had gotten the seeds from a free pack at the local park and so wasn’t sure what they were exactly.

In my poor clay, sandy dry soil that turns into mud the second water touches it, these cosmos have done very well. And I see on the internet, right now, (https://www.gardenia.net/plant/cosmos-sulphureus-cosmic-yellow) “Tolerates poor soil, heat, and humidity.” Yep, that’s my yard, alright.

The zinneas have done well but needed more water. Some of them are still doing well, or at least they haven’t died, as you might be able to see in the back of the photo. And actually, I just got a new zinnea bloom, and it’s a bright, light pink. A really nice color. So, it’s true that these are beginner friendly plants, because I have no idea what I’m doing, I’ve done no soil prep, I have put down no fertilizer, and no mulch, my watering methods are surely subpar—and on the whole these plants, cosmos and zinnea, they’re doing alright. They’re making it.

I want to plant the natives. The frost aster in the back is great, I feel great about having that in the yard, a real native. I see it blooming all over now, out in the wild, in some people’s yards, and at Shelby. There’s some frost aster in the wild fields at Shelby. I feel like to have such a huge patch of it here in the yard. And there are some little bits of it here and there on the sides of the streets, in the border grass and by fences. It’s an interesting flower, so incredibly small, yet the same shape and look of the larger, popular flowers. The “classic” flower look, yet so tiny and dainty. The natives are important, but because these zinneas and cosmos have been so easy to grow, and look nice, I am definitely tempted to just go all in on them and have the entire yard just be zinnea and cosmos, next year.

I planted some smooth-blue aster and a lot of coneflower, purple coneflower and black-eyed susan, and I haven’t seen any of those sprouts come up. I wonder if they will show next spring, and need to germinate over the winter. We’ll see about that. It’s either that or they haven’t taken well to the soil at all. The marigolds, I put down many marigold seeds, and only got two plants. So they haven’t done too well, and the sunflowers did okay, I had 5 plants for 20 seeds that I planted, not great, but then they were repeatedly attacked by the local squirrel mafia. They were assaulted, and it was sad, which makes me not want to try planting them again. If they’re just going to get so brutalized… but some made it through. Actually, I should just plant a ton, and expect many to not make it. But if some do, good. The sunflowers are iconic, and provide so much for the local wildlife.

I see fritillaries and skippers on the zinneas. Some bees, but not many. But the fritillaries really seem to like the zinneas.

Now, I had written about the asiatic dayflower that popped up in the neighbor’s yard, and I read that it bloomed for only a day. It looks like this bloomed for at least two days, and I need to check on it today and see if it’s gone three days. And next to it, the marvel of Peru is blooming now too.

I finally yet one of the neighbors across the street. I was lugging my haul back from Kroger yesterday, and I waved to him, as usual. However this time, he was over near the street, and I could actually talk to him, and so we finally chatted. This neighbor has been friendly and we’ve waved to each other many times, he’s often out with his dog while I’m doing my gardening work, and he recently (several months ago) got a puppy, that was extremely tiny and cute. It’s grown up, and is still extremely tiny. He told me that she’s now full sized, and guess what? Her name is Lucy. I thought that was kind of amazing, seeing as how no one is actually named Lucy except the main character in the story I wrote, Lucy and the Mingmerang, and this little dog was named Lucy, the whole time. Well, maybe the story should be about a dog instead. Dog and alien go on great adventure together. Anyway, the neighbor, Jared, he said that he liked my wildflowers. This is another person of the neighbor who has commented on my garden, and that makes you feel good. Even though it is pretty miserable for a garden, it does at least have flowers.

Jared said, “Do you have a hose, for watering?” And I knew what he was talking about. My neighbor has the hose, we live in a duplex that looks like one house, and the hose is on his side, and I never asked him if I could use it, because I’m lazy, I guess. I should have a long time ago asked him, and he would immediately reply, “Sure, go for it!” Well, I have been making due with broken watering cans and then filling up 5 gallon buckets in the tub, and Jared has seen me doing my labor-intensive watering work, and has probably been wondering for months, “Why doesn’t this guy just use a hose?” I thought that was funny.

We talked about plants, he said that he had to bring some plants in because they’re been being attacked by the squirrel mafia. He said that’s what he calls them, the squirrel vigilante group. That’s a good name for them. They have also attacked my plants, they are rogues, and they are everywhere. It seems like we have thirty squirrels living within like 100m radius of us. We have about five squirrels that live in our small backyard alone. There are a ton of great trees around, in our yards, huge trees with holes and nuts.

I should take a picture of it, but there was something popping up in my garden, that seemed to be a wild lettuce, and was possibly edibile, according to the internet. It was growing rapidly, and I’ve been watching it, and yesterday, when I was investigating the garden, I saw that it had been munched down, clean to the bases of the leaves. The whole thing had been chomped down to the base. Someone had a wonderful salad feast on that thing! Squirrel? I wonder who done it.

Those caterpillars, the common buckeye caterpillars all went away. They must have reached critical mass and have gone off to do their metamorphosing work. It’s funny that they were truly keeping the plantain weed in check, and now that my mowers are gone, the plantain weed is bursting up, out of control. They were really keeping it down. I should look around for the chrysalises, maybe I can find one around. It always made me nervous that they were hanging out in such a high traffic region, both cars and feet around. If they tried to go across the road on their quest for a suitable place to make a chrysalis, they would not have had a good time. I hope they have found good places to go.

*Common buckeye chrysalis (photo from internet)*

East Nashville Ecology: Frost Aster, Ichneumonid Cocoon, and more!

My eyes are twitching right now, as I begin to type this up, because they’re so tired.

I think they’re irritated from the chalk. Lots of chalk in the air, at a climbing gym. So much chalk, actually, that we have machines called “chalk eaters”, and their entire job is to filter chalk out of the atmosphere. One of our daily tasks being to clean the filters.

I had a short shift today, (4 hours), and the funniest thing that happened today was my coworker educating me on what a GriGri was, a word that I had been hearing often recently at the gym. I thought it sounded like the name of some kind of monkey. I commented on this—initially, no laugh, maybe a small chuckle from Ashley or the big boss—but I couldn’t let it go, because it was such a funny word, captivating me. Ashley showed me the GriGri, which is a tool used in harnessing yourself to the rope in climbing, and I just kept thinking about this amazing word, and said “It’s like LaBuBu”. That was a money line, so juicy that it brought out a loud laugh from the big boss. He said he was going to be thinking about that all night. Labubu. GriGri. I then wrote on a sticky note, “Labubu + GriGri = LaGriGri”, “collab”, and stuck it to the counter, leaving it for the later shifts to think about.

On my previous shift at the gym, my biggest hit idea was the concept of a lazer nail cutting machine. Advantages, 1. Sanitary, therefore does not need to be disinfected (useful for medical purposes and at a place such as a hotel or climbing gym), and 2. perfect precision. Well, and 3. incredibly cool. Because “lasers”. We could have machines at CVS, Walgreens, the grocery store, etc., that would trim your hands, feet too, via the power of lazers, with perfect, machine guided precision and accuracy. I imagined that they could also etch designs into people’s nails, for aesthetic purposes and swag. People could even create and upload their own designs. We could call it, “LazerNails”.

This was million dollar idea. People who wanted a personal unit could shell out some dough and have their own LazerNail machine at home. Nail salons could have them. Possibly. Except does that put the nail salon people out of business? I don’t know what happens at a nail salon, I can’t say.

I have just done some photography for you all, and for myself, to document the local wildlife and greenery. There is an awesome plant that is once again blooming in my yard, and I’ve IDed it, and it’s incredible news. A large part of the front yard is covered with a plant that is inconspicuous and green for most of the year, that bides its time, before unleashing an enormous spread of flowers come Autumn. That is, now. And it is doing this again. Last fall I was shocked to see it. I had thought the plant was a useless weed, probably invasive, sprawling and certainly undesirable by any good homeowner’s standards. Boy was I glad to see it pop off. And this year, hungry for ecological knowledge, I actually have figured out what it is, and ladies and gentlemans, it is FROST ASTER.

The best news? NATIVE.

The bees love it. It’s a late bloomer, just starting to come online here at the end of September. And the bees are loving it.

In the back right of this photo is more frost aster that just isn’t blooming yet. It’s interesting that it’s blooming like this, and I think it happens because of sunlight. The back corner of the yard gets less sun, blocked by the house. That’s one hypothesis at least.

*Some frost aster on the other side of the fence in the neighbor’s yard*

I’m now seeing this frost aster blooming around the neighborhood. It’s not the most common plant but I see it around, in yards. A couple neighbors have some beautiful purple ones. As you can see, there are thousands of flowers on the plant, and they’re very tiny and dainty. Kind of special and unique. Frost aster is a member of the Asteraceae family, which includes daisies and sunflowers.

*Purple frost aster in the neighborhood*

So there you go. New plant knowledge acquired. The internet says they bloom for around six weeks, which is amazing. That’s a long time. I hope it’s true!

Now, there was also something I spotted in the yard yesterday that I wanted to photograph for you. This is a very interesting sighting. I will show you a picture.

As you can see, this mystery cocoon is very small. Extremely tiny. This is why we need a macro lens, because it would be impossible to photograph clearly without macro capabilities. I thought it was some miniature moth caterpillar cocoon, but no—not true. It’s turns out that this tiny cocoon is the cocoon of a parasitic wasp, a member of the Ichneumonid family (which are a bunch of parasitic wasps). The species is Charops annulipes.

Ichneumonid wasps are some of the smallest bugs out there. There are some (such as this one) that are only a few millimeters long. This Charops annulipes is 4-5 millimeters in length.

*Charops annulipes, Ichneumonid wasp cocoon*

I was also greeted an extraordinary caterpillar when I opened my door yesterday. It was crawling manically up the side of the house, along the doorframe. I’ve never seen such a caterpillar before. It’s a Ruddy Dagger Moth caterpillar, which is an interesting name. How did it get such a name, you wonder? What does that even mean? A ruddy dagger? This guy was pretty huge. Probably 4 or 5 inches long. I was feeling lazy and didn’t get out the macro lens for this one, although I kind of wish I would have, now.

*Ruddy dagger moth caterpillar – Acronicta rubricoma*

*Adult Ruddy Dagger Moth (not my photo)*

I was walking back from photographing the purple frost asters down the street, and saw a few more interesting plants and flowers.

Here are some seed pods from a Magnolia tree. I had noticed these pods before because they’re so cool, and now they’re making the seeds, and they’re even cooler. They look so alien, to me.

I also saw this interesting plant, a small, non-descript green leafy plant with yellow flowers. It seems to be a Mirabillis jalapa, from Central and South America. It’s a common ornamental plant apparently, and is not considered invasive, although it is non-native to North America.

*Mirabillis jalapa – Four O’Clock / Beauty of the Night / Marvel of Peru*

This is something that I’m learning about our little East Nashville neighborhood ecology. There are plants here from every dang corner of the world. You think it would be shocking to find a random plant from Peru growing in the grass in the neighbor’s yard. Once upon a time it might be. But we have plants around here that are from every corner of the globe, and some of them are running wild and free. From what I know, we’ve got plants from Australia, New Zealand, Japan, China, India, South America, Central America, and Europe—western Europe and eastern Europe too. So there you go. That’s almost everywhere. Only Africa is yet to represented among plants I’ve discovered in the neighborhood.

My neighbor has a banana plant, a huge banana plant in his front yard. Another house further in the neighborhood has many of them. They probably planted them, and I bet my neighbor just let one grow in his yard.

You can actually see the banana plant in the background of this photo that I took, focusing on the frost asters. See the enormous green frond leaves sticking out from behind the trash can?

*Leaves of the Japanese banana tree, in the background*

That house that is surrounded by banana plants, it looks like it’s from Central America. It looks like the entire house was airlifted, yard and all, and dropped down in Nashville, TN. That’s what it looks like, because of those huge banana plants. Apparently that plant doesn’t even produce edible banana—it’s called a Musa basjoo. I’ll get some photos and show you guys in a future post. This plant is also called a Japanese banana plant, although it is originally from China, it has long been cultivated in Japan. And it seems to do great here in Nashville.

Right next to the “Marvel of Peru” (in the grass in my neighbor’s yard in Nashville), was the below, small, green, inconspicuous plant, with little blue and white flowers. This is apparently the Asiatic Dayflower, Commelina communis, native to East Asia. So there you go. Central America and East Asia hanging out in a patch of grass together, here in East Nashville. What an incredible thing. The internet says it blooms for only a single day. That’s pretty cool. I’ll keep an eye out for it. Perhaps just tomorrow it will be blooming? Clearly they’re ready, if these didn’t bloom already.

I also spied some goldenrod in an empty, overgrown lot. This is a good native flower right here.

That’s what I got for y’all today, folks. What an incredible treasure trove of natural wonders we have here, in little ol’ East Nashville!

The Regular // Reflection on Workplaces

I met the other Ugly Mugs veteran, #1 regular today. I had talked to him before I think, once, shared a joke about something. Today I showed up and we walked in at the same time. I held the door for him as he walked in, and we were together in line and ended up talking. I started it by asking him, “Do you think there’s anyone who’s in here more than you?” He laughed, and that’s how we got to talking. He works from home, likes to have somewhere to go, likes to have a routine. I’m the same.

I know he’s a smart guy. He has a kind-of Mad Scientist vibe, not totally crazy. Like Einstein. I’ve seen his computer screen before, and he was working with modelling software. So I asked what he’s doing, and he said he’s working in pharmacology, possibly in modeling or inventing new drugs. I couldn’t hear exactly what he said. But, intelligent stuff. He asked what I was doing, and I told him I was writing. I said I was working on a story about a guy who goes to a wedding of spirits, and that I was hoping I might finish it today.

We were really bonding over being regulars. He asked me two great questions, and I really like it when people ask great questions—he said, “What do you like about this place as opposed to the other coffee shops?” What a great question. I told him, “the seating options, the energy, the natural light, and the staff”, and he said it was the same for him, saying “I forget how much natural light gets in here”. He said it was the same for him, and he must have been coming here since the pandemic, for a long time, because he said it became his spot then. He said he likes having a routine, and a place to go, working from home. It’s become the same for me, with the writing.

We are kind of using this place like a remote workspace. It’s a psuedo work club, and we don’t have to pay for a membership. I buy a coffee every time I’m here, sometimes food (rarely), and it comes out to be about $200 a month, if I go almost every day. In the last two months I probably average coming here 5 out of 7 days of the week. It seems to be I’m on a streak and then something takes me away for a day or two.

This guy, the veteran/regular, I feel a bond with him, because he has been in here as often, even more than I have. We’re in a special club, I feel—the Ugly Mugs top regulars’ club. There is another woman I’m noticing who is here all the time, and they seem to be friends. She’s definitely in the club. I wonder who the other most frequent regulars are, if they’re flying under the radar. This guy Richard, he is pretty noticable. Tall, has an iconic look (mad scientist) and is social, has many friends.

I finally met this veteran regular this morning. Officially. Shook hands and introduced. After 3 months of being in the same space. He definitely recognized and knew me, and he had remembered that I had been writing, because he asked the second great question, because he said, “How long has it taken you to write your story?” And I said, “About ten or eleven days, first getting it all down on paper” and he said, “Oh yeah, I’ve seen you writing.” So he’s noticed that. Me at the table scribbling away.

Richard is from the UK, possibly London. I think I heard him say that to someone a long time ago. He has an accent, not incredibly strong. Or maybe I’ve just gotten used to hearing him talk. It’s obvious though. I was going to ask him what his order was, if he got the same thing every time—he beat me to it. He said, “What do you usually get?” And I told him, black coffee, every time. For him, Americano. He said, “The same thing. Well, not the same thing, but basically.” Yeah, Americano and black coffee are basically the same thing. Both creatures of habit. I suggested he switch it up today, try something new, and looked at their artful chalkboard menu that has a Tiramisu Iced Latte. I said, “How about the Tiramisu Iced Latte?” and he looked up at it and read it, said, “Ooh, Mascarpone Cold Foam!” I said, “Is that calling to you?” And he replied, “Not at all.” That cracked me up.

I am now a supervisor of some climbing gyms here in Nashville. I worked my first shift without the training wheels (just me as the supervisor) yesterday. I had three staff members with me, “under” me. Weird to say that but they were “my” team. And after a day at this gym, I am optimistic about the job. I can see why it is a good fit for me. Like Starbucks, but without the bad. That’s what I’m thinking, and hopefully no bad manifests. The bad part of Starbucks was working with dingus coworkers, and working mind-numbingly boring closes. Being trapped with people who were driving me crazy, and then also being bored out of my mind and having nothing to do but a lot of mindless cleaning. It seems that at the gym, and I’ve already sussed it out before even going for the job, as I have been a member of the gyms—the staff are a different breed. They’re climbers. And climbers are generally cool and interesting people, from what I’ve seen.

It’s early, and we have to see how it goes. I have good vibes though, good intuition that this can work for me, and that’s a good thing. The difference between this job and Shred (guitar company/retail store that I worked at) that I see, is two things in particular— 1. staff and 2. autonomy. As I am a boss, albiet a small boss. And I get to run the ship. That’s very good. I don’t mind being directed, but you have to respect the leader. They have to be competent. If they aren’t, or you don’t agree with their styles, like at Shred—I couldn’t do that. Couldn’t be under that yoke. And I wasn’t quite vibing with the team, there. I was besties with the techs, the luthieres, and a couple sales guys, but otherwise my best friends were the security guards. Because they were just more… outgoing, really.

The team at Shred was in general, very introverted. I am not very introverted, although I get on with introverts and spend a lot of time alone. But I am pretty gregarious. The Shred team was really introverted, and that was hard for me. I was struggling with them, and I wonder if that was a big part of why I felt like from the get-go, it might not be a good fit for me. I bet that’s what I was picking up—that and I wasn’t hitting it off with the manager. He seemed fine, there was nothing wrong with him (I was getting to know him as he came in to Starbucks). But I didn’t really hit it off with him, whereas my manager at Starbucks, I did feel in the interview that “this is someone I’d like to work for”. She seemed real and wanted our Starbucks to be the best Starbucks in Nashville. I was on board for that.

I also had the feeling that I might have been too bored at Shred, as was happening to me at Starbucks (for the closes, and I was then on full-time closing duty), just stuck behind the counter with no action. That’s where the Assistant Manager became a problem for me at Shred, because I had started to leave the counter sometimes (as all of the other register team would do—they would constantly just leave me alone there to go to inventory tasks). But when I could get away, I would go work the floor, and talk to people, and I would act as a psuedo-sales person, which sometimes was valuable because there wouldn’t be a salesperson around for whatever reason. I was actually filling a useful role, and I started many customer interactions that resulted in sales. Well, the Assistant Manager was constantly telling me to go back behind the counter, or to go fold shirts. You can see why I didn’t last long.

Not a shirt folder. I can handle an acceptable amount of shirt-folding. I take satisfaction in neat and tidy. But I’m not going to fold shirts all day, and especially not when I could be talking to people about guitars. What a waste of my time. Perhaps that wasn’t the role I was hired for. I wasn’t a salesperson. But, I was trying to make it work for me. In their eyes, I was going outside of what my expected role was, I suppose. I don’t think any smart manager would have told me to stop having positive interactions with the customers and making sales, though.

I had been feeling that the team was very introverted, and I was having trouble breaking through with them. They were insular, especially my register team. Then, it was the third or fourth day, a new security guard showed up. This guy was jolly, big smile, funny, chillin’. And me and him, within about one minute of conversing, we were like old friends. We were talking like we had known each other our whole lives. I just knew—this is my guy. He was a breath of fresh air. And it’s amazing how quickly we connect with our people. Through him, I saw what I had been thinking. That my team was introverted, and here was a man who was not. Here was a man who was socialable and charming. A man who could shoot the breeze about anything and wasn’t taking this all too seriously. That was the man for me. Him, and another security guard named Derek, they became my lifeline. In those three weeks that I lasted at Shred, but every day was a battle. The security guards were my people, moreso than the guitar players. I thought that was very interesting, that I was bonding more with the security guards than my coworkers (except I bonded well with the luthiers too, those were my homies, and I spent much time at the tech bench.) Even though I am a guitar player and musician.

I’ll tell you a little story here actually, which I think highlights the energy and dynamic of the Shred team very well.

There was a security guard named Don, and Don was a funny guy. He told me stories about being in the army, he reminded me of my grandpa. Don liked to greet everyone who walked in the store, and chat with the older customers generally, around his age, but he would talk to anybody. And he had a line, which was, “Hi welcome to the Shred Shack. Don’t forget to look up!” He said “Don’t forget to look up” because there was a conveyor belt of guitars that circled the ceiling, that had like 300 guitars on it. (This was an amazing thing.) I loved that this was his line, and that he said that every time. I personally thought that was nice, and funny. And it seemed to me that people reacted positively to it.

However, the general manager did not like Don’s greeting habit. I heard him talking about it. And I heard that he asked Don several times, not to greet people. The security guards are just for security, they are not greeters, and not supposed to interact with the customers. That was his stance. I think that he didn’t want him to intimidate people—I think that’s what someone said. And maybe he thought that Don focused too much on greeting and wasn’t paying enough attention to security. But regardless, the GM didn’t like that Don was saying hi to everybody, and so he told Don repeatedly, stop gretting people. Well, Don was pissed off. I heard Don say, “If they want to fire me for saying hi to people, they can kiss my ass.” And the general manager finally asked that the security company didn’t send Don to our store anymore. Don showed up, and I’m pretty sure they told him to go home, and don’t come back.

I think I actually quit the next day. I thought this story highlighted the fundamental difference between me, and my energy, Don’s energy, and how it was at the store. I could give some more stories, but this one really lays it bare. And I thought, Don is so right, and good for him. They can kiss your ass, Don. They wanted to deny him his essential joy, of greeting people, the only thing keeping him from losing his mind in this store with nothing to do, and Don wasn’t going to be put down like that. They couldn’t cow him, couldn’t tame that spirit. Good. And I felt the same. Don wasn’t having it—I wasn’t either.

There was another moment that truly revealed to me the vibe of the place. After this happened, I started viewing the workplace as “repressed”.

I was bored behind the counter, nothing to do, no action. I started drawing creatures. I would ask a coworker to invent a word, and then I would draw a character/creature based on the word they gave me, and then give them their creature (on a sticky note). Fun for everybody. I drew several creatures for my team members, and they were happy, and I was happy. Using my brain and creativity, connecting. Good, right? Well, it’s not like I was spending hours doing this. It was a small thing to pass some time and bring us some entertainment. But it was my fourth doodle, and one of the guys on the register team with me, he said in a low voice, “Hey, I would be careful about doodling. If management sees you, they might say something.”

Now, I took this to mean that they would not say something like, “Wow, your doodles are awesome, can you do one for me?” No, they would say, “Hey, please don’t doodle. Go fold shirts.”

I was outraged by that, but I could tell, what I had already been feeling—this was a repressed workplace. I could feel it, by the way he told me to watch out, the fact that it hadn’t even come from a manager. That my coworker, the other register members had been cowed. That we couldn’t even draw little doodles for a few minutes to pass the time and have a laugh. And, it’s all coming back to me now. All of the little things that add up and equal the vibe and energy of the workplace. Because I remember, one morning, I was talking to Don about his time in the army, Don and Derek—it was early, the start of the day, and we were having a great conversation about his lore, and about the army’s pheonetic alphabet, Bravo, Foxtrot, etc., and how police and firefighters have a separate alphabet. This was the start of the day, probably would be the only chance for real connection in the entire dang 8 hours, and we were really bonding—we had only been talking for five minutes, and there was nothing pressing that needed to be done, nothing more pressing than tidying shirts. We were setting the tone for the day and getting settled in, in my view, which is to me, extremely important. And the assistant manager came over, saw that we were having a fun and engaging conversation, and he came over and told me, in short, to break it up, and get to work. To go fold shirts.

I didn’t like that guy.

Derek knew that I was losing my mind stuck behind the counter, and needed more. He gave me his rubber bouncy ball. When we had walked out to the cars, at the end of a grueling shift, he said, “Here.” And he gave me his rubber band bouncy ball. I said, (I was crashing out, hence the rather depressive comment), “Is this going to save me?” And he said, “Probably not.”

I felt bad about that bad, because Derek was trying to help me out. And he was right. The rubber band bouncy ball didn’t save me. I used it, and was bouncing it around for the rest of my short stay. But of course, that couldn’t be enough.

For some reason, that little story, that moment makes me want to tear up. It’s weird. I think that I did have a budding bond with these security guards, and especially Derek. And I think if I had to unpack it more—I was being crushed by a workplace, crushed by rigidity and heirarchy, and I was losing the fight. My coworkers saw this. I showed up happy and joyful, as I naturally am. Animated, excited. (Out of place.) I was a breath of fresh air, I know it. And I was slowly being ground down. Derek saw it, and he tried to help. It was the best he could do, but he tried. He gave me his rubber bouncy ball.

It’s a terrible thing, when you know you are losing, when you are being ground down, and that things are wrong, and you don’t want to show it, but you can’t help it, and then other people see it, and they ask if you’re okay, and what’s wrong. There was one girl in the workplace, she was cool, and she could see me, she was reading the signs. She saw my descent. She started asking me if I was okay, and what was wrong. It’s so difficult, because what do you say? Oh no, I’m not okay, this place is killing me. No, I feel repressed and isolated, thanks. It turns out that I hate it here. Do you say that? No. You can’t say that. I couldn’t.

Derek had come into the Starbucks sometimes, and I never got anything out of him. He was stoic. Buff, young, blonde guy. Good-looking, and stoic. He didn’t chat, didn’t give me much. I only knew that he worked at Shred, and so when I was going over there to work, I was very interested in him. I knew about a lot of the other team members, because they came in too, and I got more out of them. But Derek, I wondered about. What would he be like? He was an X factor.

What I definitely did not expect is that Derek would be one of my best friends at the store. It took some time for us to become friends, not even the first few days. It happened slowly, but after a few conversations, it started to become clear to both of us, that we had a lot in common. But more than that, we generally were of the same personality type. We just like talking. About anything. Just to kill the time.

There’s this feeling I have, with these security guys, and with a lot of guys that I feel like I can bond with immediately. It’s this feeling of, we’re just regular ol’ guys. We’re just regular dudes. You know? We work jobs, we get paid. We like sports, probably, and beer. We like shooting the breeze, joking around. That kind of thing.

We talked about a wide range of topics. Telling stories. Making jokes. Psychology, girls, weight-lifting, life, motorcycles, memes, guitars, whatever. And although we had our individual quirks and particular interests, Derek understood me. He knew what was going on with me. He knew what I was about, fundamentally. And I understood him. I knew what he was about. That is fundamentally, the most important thing. He was interesting in learning about me, in knowing me. I was interested in him. We appreciated each other’s company.

And so, this young, stoic security guard, the X factor, he ended up being one of my #1’s. You just never know with people, until you start to get to know them. I feel like I’m constantly reminded of that.

I felt bad about leaving my friends at Shred. I felt bad about leaving Derek, the luthieres, David the guitar sales pro. We had bonded, they liked me, I liked them. But I knew they would understand.

There was a lot more of that gregarious, social energy at Starbucks. And that’s why I bonded more with the Starbucks team, in general. Even the ones who drove me crazy, we had more in common, temperment-wise. The gregarious energy. You would think that the guitar store would have been a great fit, because I love guitar, guitars and music, but then, maybe it makes sense. Lots of musicians and guitar players are introverts. (Nerds.)

The climbers are interesting. They seem to be more on the introverted side. They are nerdy, many of them, but they are generally sociable and open. They want to talk and have an exchange. Nerdy, I’m learning (some pro Magic players in the group), but social and friendly.

Since I’ve been here in Nashville, all three of my jobs have been customer-service roles. Starbucks, Shred (retail), now climbing gym. All involve frequent socializing, customer interaction. That part I enjoy a lot, but depth matters. Brief, transactional interactions are not fulfilling. Shredhad fantastic customers, because they were music lovers and guitar nerds, and/or just tourists, checking out a local attraction. Wonderful customer base. Our Starbucks (downtown) mostly had a good base, some regulars, lots of tourists, but we also had people who just wanted coffee and food, and we had to deal with unhoused people, crazies. The climb gym has literally, climbers as the customer base. Or people who want to try it out. Many regulars, many friends. Lots of cool and interesting people. Lots of young people, students, lots of adventurous people, down-to-earth. That’s a great customer base.

The other thing about running a store that I like, is the general operations. Ensuring that things are running smoothly, that we are being efficient, that people are happy (staff and customers), that problems are resolved, that we have organization and cleanliness. That the store is a well-oiled machine. I enjoy that. It’s something that I didn’t know I liked until I worked at Starbucks. Prior to that, I wouldn’t have thought I would enjoy running a store as much as I do.

I wouldn’t say that I am particularly meticulous, but I like to go about things in a logical way, and I like problem solving. I like some degree of order, and like efficiency. Well, there are many opportunities to promote order and efficiency in a store. There are many opportunities for improving things, and you get a tangible, satisfying, real-world response when you do make improvements, or resolve issues. Such as a leaky pipe, an error in the software or database, a customer’s issue. Many opportunities for solving problems, each one like a little puzzle, each one satisfying in the resolution.

Finally A Library Member // Thoughts on Writing Styles and Taste

I went to the library yesterday, the East branch here in East Nashville. And I finally, finally became a member. I learned that I got $10 of free printing credit every month, which, had I become a member when I first came here, would have saved me possibly $5 or so, and I would be $5 richer in my life today. Ah! I finally got the card, because I need more books. I need books, and I need experiments. I want to read things that I wouldn’t ordinarily read, I want to take gambles, and explore, but I don’t have the money to just buy these things. I also don’t want to own them anyway. My bookshelf is already now quite full from McKay’s trips, full of used books. I’m happy to have almost every book I’ve got.

Yesterday I went to the library in search of The Firm, by John Grisham, which Stephen King talks about in his book On Writing. I was talking to my grandpa about the Hoopla app, the library apps where you can read things digitally for free, as long as you have a library membership—and it was that that really made me want to sign up. I tried online, it didn’t work for some reason, and I went to the library. Finally got my membership, took only a second, got a card, and walked out with three books. None of them were The Firm, but I could go and get it today from the other branch not much farther down the street. One was a Stephen King book called Holly.

You can see how Stephen King writes so many books, and long ones. I understand. He knows how to embellish. He knows how to paint a picture. He knows how to work in details, so many small, delicate details, how to create characters, how to bring them to life, how to describe a scene, all of these things. He has that so dialed in. You know he can just crank that out, muscle memory, that practice. And it’s good. I feel like I could read his writing about anything, whatever he decides to write about, because you just like the way he writes. And he actually does say in On Writing that for him, the plot is not important. He’s figuring it out as he goes. What that means then is that the writing is the engine, right? His writing is the engine, and he’s building it as he goes. Therefore he’s enjoying every line he writes. There’s movement in every line, he’s building it as he goes. That makes sense to me.

At the library, I went for two books just based on their look and what they seemed to be about. I took them home and was eager to crack them open, see what the pages held. This was totally exploratory reading.

The first book, I made it about five pages in. I might have made it seven. The subject matter was fine—a modern take on old Grimm fairy tales, but I didn’t like the writing. I could tell that it was good writing, high-level, intelligent. But it was clunky and jarring for me. I was trying to figure out why it was, and I read a bit of it aloud to see if that would help. It was a strange mix of short and snappy, and then with (to me) esoteric vocab interlaced. Somehow that combination was jarring and displeasing for me. That’s all I can say about it because I didn’t really try to analyze it, but that’s what happened. I didn’t want to keep going, even though I was somewhat interested in the story. Actually, I don’t think I was that interested either, because I didn’t care for a fable at that time, and it was also kind of meta, a modern commentary. It wasn’t really sucking me in.

What’s interesting is that this book was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize. And I could tell it was definitely “a good book”. It just wasn’t for me, and especially I didn’t particularly like the writing style. At least not in that moment.

It reminded me of Dune, which Parker had wanted me to read. I tried to read Dune, I was interested in the story, but I didn’t like the way it was written. It bothered me. I thought again, it was jarring, I didn’t like the descriptions, and I didn’t like the dialouge, etc. I just didn’t find it right, to me.

I suppose that doesn’t happen to me often because I know my tastes and I know what I like, and I go for things that I generally know I’ll like. But I did get the Artemis Fowl series, the first few books from McKay’s, and felt similarly about it. The writing was not to my taste, even though I was interested in the story.

I wish someone could explain why to me. I would like to know the subtle reasons why. I could probably dial in some theories if I tried. One theory is that I don’t seem to care much for short and abrupt, and you may not be so surprised to hear based on my prolific use of commas and “ands”. The flow is important to me, the rhythm. The Artemis Fowl was quite short and abrupt, generally. Lots of periods and sentences that started with “And.” Such as, “She flew to the moon. And she didn’t have a parachute.”

You may say something Hemingway, but Hemingway has a rhythm and flow that I like. He also is very conscious of it, and he will explode out into long sentences, surprising you and varying the pacing. He knows what he’s doing. So, simply saying that I don’t like “short and abrupt” is not quite right. I think the better word is “jarring” or “stilted”. To say that the rhythm or flow is not right for me.

I am also attracted to certain words, I think. There are so many words, of course, but there are still so many that people can probably have their styles in the words they use.

JK Rowling uses “surreptitiously”. She uses “roared”, “furtive”, “nursing”, “twinkling”. Now, those are words I like.

King used this phrase, in Holly, about some middle school boys, “sprawled out” on the ground, “slurping up” their milkshakes. It was something like “the boys were sprawled out on the grass, slurping up their shakes.” I read that last night, and I remember that I did have a kind of physical reaction to those words.

I didn’t like this combination of words, in the sense that I would never write them. But I almost did, because I knew that it was good, and stylistic. It just wasn’t for me, I think the movements of the mouth that you have to make when you say “sprawl” and “slurp”. I like the word sprawl, I don’t really like the word slurp. And then together, and plus “shakes”. “Sprawling out and slurping up your shakes.” I don’t really like that. But I appreciate it. It’s strong. And you know Stephen King likes it. (I kind of do like it.)

I had read Harry Potter as an American, and with American English. But after I watched an interview with her, I started to read the books in her voice, with an English accent. And suddenly, it changed everything. I could see then why she was/is so attracted to certain words. I already thought the writing was great, fun, and flowing, but when I started to read/think of it in her voice, with her accent, suddenly it was even better. I thought of all of the characters in English voices, and they all really started to pop.

Such as the word “surreptitiously”. If you say that a Midwestern American, it sounds pretty terrible. That’s probably why we don’t use it. (At least, I don’t use it, and don’t know anyone who does.) When you say it as JK Rowling though, in British English, it sounds amazing. It flows and rolls, and is suddenly, incredibly fun to say.

Parker has been watching climbing videos, of these guys in London, and in one of the videos they said “mortifying”. It sounded great. In Midwestern American, “mortifying” does not sound that great. It sounds a little clunky. But in British English, “mortifying” sounds pretty amazing. Like “surreptitiously”.

Another word that I’ve just thought of: rancor. Say “rancor” in American English. Not sexy. Say “rancor” in British English. Sounds amazing.

The second book that I had gotten on a whim from the library, was much more engaging for me. It was funny and was flowing, and catching my interest. I liked the writing—it was the subject matter that was not for me. And that’s not surprising, because it was about a shopaholic wife who moves with her husband to LA and finds herself in famous circles, wanting to be a stylist for a famous actor. It was that kind of thing. I’m clearly not the target audience, no. It wasn’t meant for me. But I thought, why can’t I still enjoy it? Because I had thought that maybe I would, as I like antics, humor, and social commentary, etc. I think part of the deal as to why I didn’t want to keep going is that, unless there was some real great twist, and everything turns out to be an illusion or something, I knew from the beginning what the story was going to be about, and I personally didn’t care that much. It’s not a story I’m really interested in, even though I could tell it was going to be funny and entertaining.

After trying out those two books, I picked up the first Harry Potter book, just to see how it compared, and if I was just being biased or judgmental, whatever, based on my mood. But no—I was immediately sucked in. I liked the writing, I liked the flow and pacing. And already, I could see the seeds that were being planted, from those first paragraphs, the hints that were dropped, the story that was before us, about a strange world, about mysterious characters, evil… all of that. I could see how that pulled me in, me personally. Why that was something that I wanted to read.

Then, I moved on to Holly, Stephen King. And right away, I was interested. It was gruesome actually, and dark. As Stephen King often is, right? I have only actually read Misery, and that was a long time ago. But it was pulling me in. I wanted to know what was happening to this man, kind of, even though you knew it was some classic criminal-murderer-type stuff. I enjoyed his writing, his portrayal of characters, descriptions, etc. His voice. That’s what it is. His voice. And then, I was interested. What’s going on here? I want to know more. And so, this one, it pulled me in. The content is a little dark for me, not much whimsy in the tale, and crime stories are not my go-to, but I like the writing, and I want to see what happens. I want to study the master. I read about 100 pages last night.

Duewell’s Datura

Alright y’all, I got a scoop for you.

First of all, I don’t know how to spell this man’s name, and if it’s wrong, I’m sorry Duewell. I just went for a historic run, possibly my longest run, not sure. It was at least my most difficult run so far, since I’ve been running the last two-ish months, with my leg recovering and allowing me to go farther. It was at least 5.2 miles, maybe 5.5 miles of runnin’, and in the hot afternoon sun, 3 pm, blazing, over hills and along shadeless roads. I had to take some breaks and at one point laid down in the shade of a tree, when I opted to run through a golf course, taking a scenic and adventurous route, that ended up being horrible, and made me feel like I was stranded in the Sahara Desert. I actually had to bask in the single bit of shelter along that desert, and a bird chirped in the tree above me. I called out to it and said, “Help me, bird!” And then I thought, Why should that bird help me? “Help yourself!” I said, and got back up. What a beast. That’s some runner psychology right there. What do I need from that bird? (I think I wanted it to give me some water.) That bird doesn’t need to do a damn thing for me. And I kept battling.

I ended up getting kind of stuck on the golf course, because I couldn’t get to the road easily. There was a huge wooden palisade that prevented me from escaping. I either had to go all the way around it, retracing my steps by like, a mile, in the blazing sun (impossible), or I had to take a gamble and go through some woods and possibly end up in someone’s yard and/or be trapped. I opted for that, and it was a thrilling adventure, stumbling through uncharted territory, wondering if I would end up on someone’s property and get shot. I came out in an empty lot in part of a development complex, I knew exactly where I was. I felt like a deer that had been lost and had no idea where the hell it was, and I probably felt that way too because there actually were several deer in that strip of woods.

Well, the juicy bit I’ve got for you here — but wait, before that, I have to say something more, interesting, psychology here, about donuts and rewards. I had wanted donuts, and I got some, they were on sale, and I said to myself, “If I eat some donuts, I have to go for a run today.” That was my deal — I wanted to run, but not at that exact moment. Well, I had the donuts alright, they made me feel horrible, I fell asleep, and then I did the run because then I really needed it. And that was the deal I had made.

I ran, and the first 2 miles were awful. I felt horrible, and I thought, now this is your punishment, this is my punishment, for eating these shitty, garbage donuts, and I’ll never eat them again — and yet, I went on the run because of the donuts. I may have gone anyway, but I may not have. I was doing that run exactly because I had the donuts. And so, here’s the question: Donuts good? Donuts bad?

We have to say that it was good. But I look at the rest of the donuts on my counter, and I think, You are disgusting. Get away from me. I don’t want any more of you!!!

Taste so good. Make you feel so bad.

Now, on the very end of the run, I was in my neighborhood, so close to sweet relief, and I happened to see a man in snow-white hair out in his yard. (This is the main scoop.)

I’ve seen this man a handful of times, and he happens to have a stately home and garden. I would say that he has one of the most regal gardens in the neighborhood, and recently, I have been especially interested in his moonflowers. He has a large moonflower (Datura) plant in his yard, and moonflowers have been blooming recently. They’re amazing to see. I photographed this man’s just two days ago, in fact, because I wanted to a post of some of all the amazing plants in the neighborhood, so here you go.

I think you can see what I mean about him having a stately garden. Very trim and proper. Looks good, a different flavor from many of the other gardens in the neighborhood. Now, right now you don’t see any flowers — these flowers are shy. They don’t show in the heat, I think. They might only open at morning and night, or just the morning. I should know that by now, but I don’t. I just know that sometimes they’re open, but in the heat of the day, they’re closed, like morning glories. That’s why unfortunately you don’t see the flowers here, but you can still tell that they must be huge. They are enormous.

Now, I have been kind of confused about the name moonflower vs. datura, to tell you the truth, and I’m getting confused again because I’m reading a blog post about it. It seems that the definite correct name for this plant is Datura (the name for the genus), and the common name is moonflower, but that can also refer to another plant that has the common name moonflower, and is totally different. I’m going to keep calling it Datura, then, which is certifiably correct. That’s a cool word, anyway.

It seems that these are the species Datura innoxia, and are native to the Southwestern US, Central and South America. They are part of the Nightshade family (Solanaceae).

We are getting a little derailed, but this is important stuff. And I need to know it — you can know it, if you want. It’s good to know these things, right? Impress your friends with esoteric plant knowledge. (In gardening circles this is probably basic plant knowledge.)

This plant is quickly becoming my favorite plant, I see. I have never had a favorite plant, really. I have never cared that much about plants. But I thought, after coming and learning about Duewell’s Datura, that this might be now my favorite plant, because not only is the plant itself awesome. The caterpillars it attracts are just as awesome.

The SCOOP here, is that I saw this man with snow-white hair outside of his house, tending to his garden, with a watering can, and I thought, I have to talk to him. I have to tell him his Datura is awesome. I didn’t know if I should call it Datura or moonflower, at that time, and I ended up going with moonflower, because that’s what Aubrey, the garderner at Shelby Park called it. I called out to him, “Your moonflowers are awesome!”

He said thanks, and then, oh yes, he wanted to chat. Amazing.

This man gave me the TEA. He gave me the lore. I told him that I had been admiring them, and if they he had grown them from seed, or bought a plant, or if it had just popped up — he said it just showed up one day. He said he had some in the back, implying they could have come from there. That’s an amazing thing, first of all, that this amazing plant that has become a staple in his homefront garden display, simply appeared by itself. But we must remember that this man (possibly his partner as well, if they were involved) had the knowledge and intelligence to identify it as something good (well, desirable at least), and not pull it, and tend to it. I wonder if he knew beforehand what it was, or just let it go and then liked it. I would guess he knew because he had some in the back.

He said that he had to pull some this year, because it was doing so well and spreading. That’s how it goes with these plants, I read. Some of them do TOO well, and start taking over your garden. That’s not a bad problem to have though. Pulling is much easier than growing, it seems to me (I’m still a novice). Let’s look again at his marvelous Datura that has planted itself and now become an amazing feature in his landscape.

God, if only it was flowering in this photo!!!!! I can see how it could be getting a little out of hand. Well, Duewell told me that this plant that is thriving now, he said that he thought it would die last winter, it went all the way down to a single tiny nub (he showed me the size of the plant with his hand, nothing but his fist). He thought it was a goner. But no, it powered through, it’s made it. It’s been here for about three or four years, he said. And then he told me, as I said I had been gardening for just a few months, “If you want any, come back in the spring and I’ll give you some.”

When he said that, I just thought, Do all plant people just give their plants away? Do they all just hook each other up? Because basically, literally every time I have ever asked anyone about a plant that I’ve been interested in, they’ve hooked me up. They’ve literally given me the seeds, given me a chunk of the plant, or offered to give me the seeds/chunk of plant. How incredible is that? I got mountain mint from the gardener at Shelby, Patrick the neighbor offered to give me more, the gardener at Bates hooked me up with passionflower pods, and Deuwell says he would give me Datura seeds. All of this umprompted and unasked for. What an amazing culture! Gardeners are “real people.”

After discussing the Datura, our conversation turned to the neighborhood. I told him I was just down the street, he asked me about construction on a nearby house (it took me a minute to figure out which house he was talking about because there are so many houses under construction in the neighborhood, like 7 within a 100 meter radius) and then he told me about the house just next to his that had been torn down. I had mentioned that they were turning the house near mine into a duplex, “or maybe a mansion”, and he said that’s what they were doing with the house right next to his. They were building a mansion, a 2 million dollar home. Wowie. He said that the previous resident had lived there their entire life, and finally had to go to a nursing home at 92. Now, the home goes down (and it was not a mansion), and a new one is built.

We talked about the amazing growth of the neighborhood, the construction, rising home prices, people coming here from all over, he said “California”, and I asked how long he’d been in his home. He said it was a friend’s house really, and he was just staying there — his house had flooded in 2010. He told me about his experience in this historic flooding, which I had heard about from working at Gibson. (Several guests had asked me about how the flooding had affected Gibson, because apparently they had a warehouse or headquarters that were severely affected.) Duewell told me about his home in Belleview being underwater, he said the water in his house was 6 feet high. 6 FEET. Can’t even believe it.

I had heard the tales of the great Nashville flood, and I heard the tales again. You hear these tales, of great natural disasters, and talking with him about it made me think about my grandpa telling me about the Palm Sunday tornado in Indiana. Long time ago now, the youngsters don’t know about it. But he told me all about the Palm Sunday tornado. This man told me about the great Nashville flood of 2010, and many of the Kumamotoans told me about the Kumamoto earthquakes, of 2016 I think it was. And while I was there (2021 or 2022 was the year, only five or six years later, poor Kumamoto 😢), there was a great flood that destroyed a huge bridge and did heavy damage to the region. I saw that damage personally — that’s a disaster that I can actually report about.

Duewell mentioning the Nashville flood of 2010 made me think about the value of older people, their history and lore, and how they can remind us of and remember these significant events that don’t happen so often, but they do come around. They can tell you, “Hey, might want to be careful by the river, ‘cause that thang can flood. I seen it with my own eyes.” (Don’t know why I have my hypothetical older person talking like this.)

It was wonderful that my epic run (with some degree of suffering involved) ended with a lovely neighborhood chat about Datura, and beyond. I feel again that I am tapping into an entirely new world through gardening, a world that has existed and is known to many people, has been all around, and yet flown under my radar for so long.

Suddenly, I look around and I see these amazing gardens, I see Duewell’s Datura, and I think about how much knowledge, time, energy and work has been invested to make that happen. The skill, patience, ambition, vision that someone or maybe a couple, a family has invested to cultivate and arrange such a wonderful thing. It cannot happen overnight. You have to have an appreciation for that. And the fact that they desire to do it at all — it says something about the residents. You must feel that there’s a good person living in that house, a wholesome person. The chances are high.

And then… there’s my garden… yikes.

Buckeye Caterpillar Farm [Garden Post]

Sept. 15, 2025

*Common buckeye feeding on plantain weed*

*Wooly bear caterpillar (Virginian Tiger Moth?) feeding on zinnia*

I was happy to see two butterflies this morning on my zinnias. They looked like fritillaries, large and beautiful. And I thought, I made that happen. There is something here now that wasn’t here before, this garden. These flowers.

Now, have I done a net good? Because I did unearth the soil and unhome many thousands of creatures that were living under the grass that I dug up. And I know there were little moths and creatures in there. But, I have done something for the aphids, the lacebugs, and the butterflies, at least. In the end, my flower garden (focusing on natives too, I’ll keep trying) surely will have more of a positive ecological benefit than what was there before.

The zinnias have been easy to grow. A lot of my other seeds are not sprouting at all, and I don’t know if they will. They could be biding their time, they may come up in the spring after overwintering. But the zinnias, they have done well.

I will say that I saw something amazing yesterday. I was walking home from the cafe and I noticed bees, hundreds of bees going crazy over a plant. I’m not sure what it was, it had blue flowers, long stems. I took a photo with my flip phone but that’s not useful for us here. I have to investigate that plant, because that was extremely popular and providing for the bees at an unprecedented level. (Update: it was Russian Sage, Salvia yangii.)

Only the mountain mint has rivaled that level of bee engagement, from what I’ve seen so far. And unfortunately I think my mountain mint is dead. 😢

I was hanging out in the garden yesterday and I had been thinking all day that I should do some macrophotography, but it was so hot and I was feeling lazy. Then, I was out there again, checking things out, and I saw that assassin bug nymph (1st photo) on a leaf, and I just had to get the camera out for that. That was a worthy target. I actually thought at first it was a praying mantis nymph, which I would love to photograph. But this nymph was cool too.

From the photos on the internet it looks a lot like a leafhopper assassin bug nymph. I also thought at first it could be a large aphid, but figured it was an assassin bug after looking at the closeup photos. They do look similar. Aphids and assassin bugs are both in the same order, which is Hemiptera. This order is also referred to as the true bugs.

There is one photo here that is not from the garden (below) — that is of the yellow aphids, Oleander aphids. There is a small story here, which is that, if you had read my emergency garden update, you know that I was shocked to see a small milkweed plant pop up in the garden, that I had not planted. That was Honeyvine milkweed, and I thought it was a milkweed because it was covered in these yellow aphids. Well, I was standing out in my driveway talking on the phone, when I noticed a vine across the way on our fence, that looked like Honeyvine milkweed. And this is how these things go. You train your eye, and then you start to see the thing.

Well, I went over to take a look, and I thought, if it was going to be honeyvine milkweed, it should have the yellow aphids on it, right? And low and behold, it did. It was covered in them. Now I wish I would have just taken a photo of the vine as well, for you to get a good look at it, but I am not a good photojournalist. I was simply concerned with the little aphids and not the whole story.

I think that photograph of the sunflower says something about desolation, and finding a way. About survival. That sunflower is clearly not thriving, beaten, bruised, crispy, wilted. It has survived two assaults by something large, having been chomped twice, and it is constantly being drained by aphids and lacewings. It has been thoroughly cooked by the sun for the entirety of its short life, two months. And yet, through all of that, it has been able to flower.

Traumatized, yes, abused, yes, but it flowered. It made it.

There are now five buckeye caterpillars that are chowing down on a patch of plantain weed in my garden. It’s like I have a caterpillar farm. I was wondering if they would eat the plantain weed faster than it grew, but that has not been the case. There is plenty of plantain weed to go around.

I was wondering what they were munching on, and I thought it could be a grass but it didn’t seem like it. Caterpillars don’t really eat grass, right? I didn’t think so, you don’t see it at least. Well, I looked up what buckeye caterpillars eat, and grass was not listed. So, I did some scouring, and found that these plants were plantain weed, and there are two kinds around here, buckhorn and broadleaf. And now I see them everywhere.

*Buckeye caterpillar taking shelter under buckhorn plantain leaf*

*Photo from just four days ago – same caterpillars on plantain weed*

This photo above shows clearly the buckeye caterpillars on their beloved plantain weed. This is how big they were just four days ago. They are now about fifteen times as big. I have watched their entire journey, from little tykes to the big beasties they are now. I wonder how big they will get. They’ve gotten so big that they’re starting to hang out on the ground.

They seem to go through phases of activity. They also have good camoflauge, somehow. It takes me several minutes to find all of them. They like to hide under leaves, or at least they did, as now they’re so big I don’t think they care. It probably protects them from the sun, too.

The fuzzy white caterpillar on the zinnea is a wooly bear of some kind. It looks like it is a Virginian Tiger Moth, called spilosoma virginica. It looks similar to what the pictures are on the internet. The below photo is the adult moth form.

I see these plantains everywhere now, in the grass by Ugly Mugs, on the side of the road. Apparently they are edible and good for medical purposes. I want to try eating one.

Steven’s Gardening Blog (100% garden-related post)

I almost feel like at this point I should have a dedicated blog to gardening. Seeing as half the posts contain at least some garden updates. It makes sense. Will I do it?????

I woke up this morning and performed what has become my morning routine. Checking up on the garden. I was thinking about some things last night — one thing I had noticed was that my zinnia leaves had really started to turn purple. There was something that seemed to be spreading on them. At first I thought it was because of the drought, but then as I noticed it on some of the healthier plants, you start to wonder if it isn’t a disease or perhaps a nutrient deficency. I’ll show you some photos.

You can see what I’m talking about — this purple, reddish brown that appears at the bases of the leaves. Even some of the healthier zinnias are starting to get it. In the last photo you can see this one is covered with it, and this poor zinnia is going downhill real quick. It has only days left, I’m sure.

Well, what is the cause of this mysterious purple/red coloration? That’s what we want to know.

I went on the trusty internet and did some researching, and my guess is that this is caused by a fungus called alternaria.

Wikipedia says: “They are ubiquitous in the environment and are a natural part of funga almost everywhere. They are normal agents of decay and decomposition.”

They are a “major plant pathogen.”

Seems about right. People of Facebook were commenting on similar posts that it was alternaria, and the chances seem high. I am probably then supposed to pull the diseased plants, no? To stop the spread? I wonder.

My other patch of zinnias is alright, so far. I don’t want them to become infected. But I wonder if it only happens when the plants are stressed and vulnerable, as they certainly have been. I now say with 100% certainty that my zinnias just needed more water, way more water, and mulch on the soil to help retain the moisture, as my wise mother has suggested several times.

Now, if you ever wanted to see photos of caterpillar poop, viola. Here you are. The wooly bear (fuzzy white caterpillar) that’s been munching on this zinnia is still hanging out here. He has been feasting, and the proof is right here in the poop. I should have snapped a photo of the actual caterpillar. I’m not a great photojournalist. I was so amazed by the poop.

The caterpillar has grown rapidly, as they do. It’s amazing to see it. This morning he (or she) was kind of hanging over, seeming to be asleep. I just want it to stick around so we can see its progress. That other big ‘un, the giant common buckeye caterpillar that was eating the grass in my garden, I don’t know what happened to it. It’s gone. There are three new ones that are here munching away, already they’ve again quadrupled in size. Tomorrow they should be huge.

This has been popping up all over, and it looks like it’s some kind of speedwell. Google said mine was probably some invasive speedwell from Eurasia. Wonderful. I should probably pull it, then. Does this count as mulch? Can I leave it down just to protect my soil from drying out? Until it gets out of control, I don’t see why not.

Tree of heaven sprouts are everywhere. Every day they pop up. Here’s a new one. They are thriving in my crappy soil, disturbed roadside habitat. They’re loving it. Too bad they’re UNDESIREABLE.

When I was digging up the lawn, I kept this plant, mostly as an experiment. I had dug up the entire thing and it was kind of smelling nice, and I thought, I’ll just throw it in a pot and see what happens. Why not? So I did, and that was about two weeks ago. As you can see, it’s fine.

This is a three-seeded mercury, I learned this morning. It’s everywhere. Popping up in my garden, and on my walk to the cafe this morning, I saw it all along the roadside, in the grass. It’s a native herb, a spurge. What a great word.

Apparently it is loved by flea beetles, and all three-seeded mercury has tiny holes in it, as mine does, which are caused by the flea beetles.

Kawaii, flea beetle!!!!!

Emergency Garden Update (Of Extreme Importance)

The title says it all people. There simply must be an emergency update.

I was in my garden just now, weeding, looking over the state of affairs. Every time I do this, if I sit there for long enough, I make a discovery. Often many discoveries. Well, after about fifteen if not twenty minutes of squatting around and noticing things, I was just about to finish, when I spied something incredible.

There was a plant, of strange appearance, and it had what appeared to be, those yellow milkweed aphids on it.

Did that mean… It was a milkweed?

To remind you, here is one of my butterfly milkweed sprouts with the iconic yellow aphids on it. All of my butterfly milkweed sprouts have these vibrant yellow aphids, draining them of their vital life force. I should probably take them off because I think they actually are doing damage now.

These aphids… oh my god!!!! Non-native!!!!!!!

Y’all.

Nature is war.

I just went outside and killed them all.

They’re from the Mediterranean. Oleander aphid (Aphis nerii). I assumed they were from ‘round here because they were also called milkweed aphids. Nope. The omnipotent internet has just revealed to me: a foreign invader.

I did what I had to do. To protect my garden. I’m sorry, aphids. I’m sorry.

It’s for the greater good.

Where are your morals now?

Am I to say who lives and who dies?

Yes. I am. For the monarchs!!!!!!

*Honeyvine milkweed covered in Oleander aphids*

Here are the photos of the mystery plant, the Honeyvine milkweed. And you can see, totally covered in the aphids.

It seems that removing them is a tricky issue because you don’t want to damage monarch eggs. Internet says you could leave them alone if the plant is able to tolerate it. Best method is to remove them by hand if you can (I could). You know these guys aren’t going anywhere. They must be here in America for good. So, just managing the population and keeping your plant healthy is the main thing, it seems.

I am shocked to have a plant pop up in the garden that is A. native and B. something I actually want to have in the garden. Welcome to the family, small Honeyvine milkweed!!!!!!

The purpose of the post has been achieved.

Emergency update: complete.

Invisible Strings / Garden Update (Sept. 10th)

Invisible Strings

I am being pulled by invisible strings. I am a puppet, currently under the control of one who is wise and is guiding me towards success and fulfillment. I am being guided by the perfect being.

My thoughts are my own, but my actions are no longer mine. They are those of a higher intelligence, one who is not ruled by my emotions, my passions, my fear or my imagination. It is one who is outside of myself, and who knows what must be done, and wastes no time in doing so. One who knows what is best for me.

I may not always want to do what I am made to do, but it is not me pulling the strings. It is one who knows better.

This is what I am imagining today.

Japanese Is Fashionable

The tall guy on the Ugly Mugs team was wearing another cool band shirt today, and it had just a little bit of Japanese on the front. The band was called Dayseeker, and it said on the corner of the shirt, in tiny font, 暗い太陽. Dark sun. I asked him about it, and then I read the Japanese off the shirt, and he was impressed. He said, “So, you speak the kanji?” and told me I needed to speak to another guy on the team who was learning Japanese.

I had read Japanese off another Ugly Mugs guy’s shirt too, his Japanese racing shirt. It had katakana that said, ドリフットキング. Drift King. Swag as hell.

Japanese is everywhere. Japanese is fashionable.

Just Get Started

I have a reservation to doing my work, sometimes. To doing the thing that I know I should do, that I even want to do. Today, that is write a cover letter and adapt my resume to a job I want to apply for. Well, I’ve already done it. I’m just waiting a bit, to let it settle and then double-check, before I send it off.

A lesson that has been coming up in my life recently, and again this morning, is this:

You just have to get the ball rolling.

This is not any new epiphany, because there already many quotes about this, that say, “Starting is the hardest part” or “the first step is as big as all the rest of the steps combined”. “There are really just two steps, the first step and then all the others.” I know that’s actually a quote somewhere out there.

It’s amazing how much resistance I have to doing things, and 90% of the time, all I have to do is just start, and then I’m having a great time. You’re engrossed in the work, then you finish your task, and feel satisfied and awesome. Conversely, until you do the work that you’ve set out for yourself, you will feel a vague sense of dissatisfaction. You may say, “Why do I feel weird?” But deep down inside, you know why. There’s something you have to do, and you haven’t done it yet.

I have been reminded of this lesson recently with my writing, and this morning with the cover letter/resume writing. Even today, I had resistence. But I knew the thing to do—just go to the cafe, get the coffee, sit down and start.

That’s why starting in the morning is so helpful for me. You have the energy, you have the full day ahead, and you are encouraged to just get right down to business, and get it over with. Then you can have your freedom and fun time.

I’m thinking of the other quote which might be by Mark Twain, possibly Thomas Edison, or who knows, which is the one about eating three frogs in the morning. “I try to eat three frogs every morning.” Something like that. The idea being to “eat a frog” right when you wake up, because it’s going to be the hardest part of your day.

Garden Updates (Sept. 10th)

My soil is not great. I have had some things suffer due to drought, and probably some seeds not sprouting because the soil is too hard or not the right quality. Birds and squirrels may have also eaten the seeds, as many of them I just sprinkled on the top of the soil. It’s a tough patch of earth I’m working with, but things are growing.

The big mystery I have now is why my second patch of zinnias are doing so much better than the first. The first was planted about two weeks before, maybe only one week before. I should have written this stuff all down. They’ve been alive for one or two more weeks in drought conditions, as August was hot and sunny every single day. It rained twice, and not for much. I don’t really know why my second patch is doing so much better. Maybe it is that they just weren’t exposed to so much sun and drought. Even a few days, an extra week of that could matter a lot. I don’t know.

I tried really hard to save these zinnias as they were going downhill, but I’m still a novice. I didn’t know if they needed more water, less water, or if they just were going to die anyways. Maybe they need fertilizer because of the sandy, clay soil. Who knows, but they were growing well and fine, so I think they probably just got cooked, and probably didn’t get enough water. That’s my guess.

You can see they’re brown and crispy. Many are dying, half already dead.

This is the second patch, doing a lot better.

Here’s a marigold. I put down a lot of seeds, two have made it. Not great odds, but hey. Two made it. I thought I had more, but as they started to pop up in places were there should have been no marigold seeds, and they were rapidly expanding outwards, instead of up, I had the suspicious feeling that they were not marigolds. Well, they weren’t. They were tree of heaven, thriving in my disturbed, roadside habitat with crappy soil.

Not a great photo but this is one of the butterfly milkweed sprouts I’ve got, with those little yellow milkweed aphids feasting on it. I’m just letting nature take its course, here. So far it seems that the sprouts can handle it.

Here is an undesirable in my garden (actually several). You can see a little tree of heaven sprout to the right of the larger undesirable plant. The grass at the bottom is undesirable. I can’t remember what this green round mass is called but it’s undesirable. I know that.

I used my Moto G smartphone to help me ID these sprouts when trying to use words with Google wasn’t working for me. Sharing the photos with Google and having it ID things is extremely helpful. It told me right away what I was working with, here. And there were many disappointments, because none of it was anything I really wanted.

Here are some undesirables that I thought were cosmos. They look similar, but they kept popping up and I thought, now wait a minute, there’s no way the cosmos are doing this well in my garden. And there’s more seedlings than actual seeds I planted.

Not cosmos. Common ragweed. At least it’s not an invasive. I should pull it up but I guess I want to see what happens. I’m also still holding out on a fantasy that they really might be cosmos, and they will all become beautiful flowers.

It’s inhabiting the carrot patch but I don’t feel like those carrot seeds are sprouting… at all. Not having a lot of faith in the carrots, here.

This is mountain mint, I got from Shelby. They dug me up a chunk and let me take it home. It’s not doing too well, I don’t think. The leaves are turning brown, almost all of them have gone brown and seemed to die. There are a few green ones left. I hope it doesn’t actually die because I was really excited about this plant. Maybe it’s just going dormant for the season…? (Hopeful optimism.)

I think right behind it in this photo is an advanced tree of heaven plant, I’m almost positive. In the background, to the left. Do you see that thing? Probably gonna have to pull that.

This is something new that’s been popping up that is also an undesirable. There’s a big one that I should have photographed. My smartphone IDed this as “three-seeded mercury” which is an amazing name and hard to remember. Just now I thought it was called “three-headed copper” because I couldn’t remember. Apparently it is a member of the “Spurge” family, which is a pretty incredible word. “Acalypha rhomboidea is a plant in the spurge family…” (Says Wikipedia.)

You know, it looks like the spurge is just in the top right of this photo, actually. I think the rest of this stuff is something else.

Here is the three-seeded mercury, the spurge, to the right. There’s a few of them. And that largest plant on the left is apparently “common mullein”, and is invasive and hated, I have read. From Europe and seems to be a menace. There is another, smaller common mullein in the bottom left corner of this photo.

I’ve got this grass popping up all over in a section of the garden, and I don’t know exactly what it is. These caterpillars (maybe common buckeye, Junonia coenia) like it though, as I had photographed the big one the other day (and I don’t know where that one went off to), but yesterday I spotted an extremely tiny one on a blade of this grass, and today there are three, munching away now. They’re like little lawn mowers. I’ll leave the grass for them. They could get real big real fast, here. Hopefully they stick around.

And the last photo and update—I spied this fuzzy caterpillar this morning on one of my zinnias. I haven’t seen any caterpillar on a zinnia before. This is a new one. And it’s actually eating it. Go for it, man. That zinnia is probably gonna die anyway. I want to see you get BIG.

The Fly at the Window

I sit down this morning at my spot at Ugly Mugs.

A fly is at the window.

You can often see flies who have been trapped in a room at the windows. They’ve come in accidentally, with the draft, enticed by the smells, or just sucked up in the rush of air—however they get in these spaces, they do, and then they get stuck.

They can’t find a way out.

You can look down at the ground and see the discarded corpses at the bases of the windows and windowsills. They are the carcasses of flies past that ended up trapped at the window, unable to find freedom. The really sad part about it, the part that jerks your heartstrings and brings you to pity, if you are so able to care about the plight of a lowly housefly, is that they surely could not understand why they were trapped.

They do not know about glass.

Glass is an artificial construct that we have learned how to create and adopt in our human world. But insects, birds, nothing in the animal world really evolved to understand glass.

When the fly sees the great world beyond, following light and green, whatever visual cues it uses to discern the direction that it should move in, it cannot understand why, although it tries so hard to reach the world beyond, it can’t.

Every time, it is met with an invisible and impassable barrier.

The fly is doomed. They are all doomed, once they get in here, and unless they are lucky enough to end up by the door and get pulled out with the draft, they will spend the rest of their short lives ramming themselves repeatedly up against this invisible, impassable barrier, and not comprehending it.

It’s not because they are stupid. Flies are highly evolved creatures, with extraordinary powers, of sight, reflexes, taste, flight. But they have no code for glass.

I have thought about this, the death of these flies, simply as a byproduct of human design. And my mind started to make a list, of all the life that is extinguished in this way.

Worm drying out on the sidewalk. Birds hitting windows. A turtle choking on a plastic bag. All the little animals that get run over by the horrible rolling machines (cars).

The list goes on.

In all of these scenarios, the death of the animal is simply an unfortunate byproduct of artificial constructs that the animal has no understanding of.

I think about the unintentional death of our animal friends, and then I think about the technologies that we create that affect us, such as artificial light. Microplastics. Pesticides, and chemicals such as BPAs, forever chemicals that are now residing in the body of nearly every single human being on the planet, endocrine disruptors that adulterate our DNA and cause birth defects in our babies. And I think about how we, as in you and I, are animals too.

We see how many other animals are so affected by our behaviors, but what about us?

Are we not?

You and I can comprehend glass, and are generally able to avoid being trapped inside buildings and colliding with glass barriers so hard that we break our necks. But artificial light, chemicals, and plastic are much more sophisticated and complicated than glass. Despite that, we’ve unleashed them upon the world on an extraordinary scale before understanding their full effects.

Take a look at the fly at the window, and you may think, poor fly. You poor thing, your mind is not advanced enough to comprehend glass, you cannot find a way out of your trap. You will most likely die at this window, completely at a loss as to why you couldn’t make it to that blue sky and the green trees beyond. But while you and I may feel pity for the fly, now think about how you and I may not be so different from the fly after all.

We are living in a world that we have constructed, a heavily artificed world. And if we think that we are not affected in ways like the fly at the window, we should think again.