Trivia that matter
Spring was unusually dry, but June rains have made up for it. The garden overall is doing well. Nearly all the foxgloves are blooming or will be soon. These are “Camelot mix” hybrids I started indoors earlier. So far all the flowers have been lavender, but there should eventually be a few other colors.
What exactly does “decimate” mean? Does accurate language matter any more?
Several residents of my garden recently sat for their portraits.
My parish church, a few days after Easter; best viewed in full-screen mode. There are notes on the church here. The architect was Emanuel L. Masqueray, who also designed the cathedral in Wichita.
Here’s the exterior:
I recently learned that one of my favorite cartoonists, George Booth, died last year. Here’s a selection of his cartoons to remember him by. Click on them to see them larger.
This is the package the Dianthus seeds I planted last year came in:
These are the Dianthus that came from that package:
Something’s not quite right here. Also, they were supposed to be annuals, but every plant came back this spring and is blooming copiously now.
While out and about with my camera Saturday, I came across the annual “Downtown Mayhem Biker Bash,” sponsored by a used motorcycle dealer. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much chrome in one place.
I discovered that the local community college has a well-maintained garden which includes a good selection of prairie plants and others adapted to Kansas extremes.1
I.
When I checked my site’s statistics this morning, I found that there had been two page views from three continents, but only one visitor. How that is possible?
II.
This nine-year-old post at Pergolator “violated community guidelines.” How?
Let’s see….
The local used motorcycle dealer established a “2 Wheeler Park” across the street from his shop, featuring grass, daylilies, roses, and a few motorcycles that are a bit past their prime.
Ted Gioia echoes R.A. Lafferty:
IT’S OKAY TO READ SLOWLY
I tell myself that, because I am not a fast reader.
I can do speed reading, if it’s absolutely necessary—but I find it painful and exhausting. My natural reading pace is languid, almost lethargic.
My lifetime reading plan has been my proven path to Nirvana
Even more to the point, the books I read must be savored and slowly digested. Proust is one of my favorite authors, but I could only handle his ultra-dense writing in small doses. So I read through his 2,000-page novel at the pace of seven pages per day. I started when I was a teenager, and got to the final page shortly before my 30th birthday.Of course, I read many other things during that period, but I always came back to his massive book—taking it slowly, thoughtfully, in the way it deserved.
For many years, I felt that my slow reading was holding me back. I would be wiser, I would be smarter, I told myself, if I could just read faster. I often keep going back over the same sentences again and again, trying to decipher their inner meaning. This slows me down to a tortoise’s pace—and it’s frustrating.
But now I believe slowness was a benefit. My learning was deeper and more mind-expanding because I didn’t rush it.
By the way, I did the same thing when I learned jazz piano. I spent months learning things that could have been mastered in days. But by the time, I was done, I had internalized my learning at a deep level.
Life is not a race. The journey is its own reward. If we could make the trip instantaneously—like they do with those teleporters in Star Trek—it wouldn’t be worth anything.
See Lafferty’s “The Primary Education of the Camiroi.”
I planted ten Dutch iris bulbs in the fall of 2021. Finally one has bothered to bloom. Much as I like blue flowers, I doubt that I will allot space in the garden to this sort of iris again. (Other kinds of iris do fine here; my problem is specifically with Iris × hollandica.)
Linum perenne puts on a good show when the neighborhood cats haven’t flattened it.
I’ve heard the Medieval world described as one in which people lived among the ruins of works greater than any they could themselves create. This is actually only true in part and for a time, as when the Medieval world got going, architecturally speaking it absolutely blew Greece and Rome out of the water (granted, I’m fuzzing a lot given the time frames involved).
However, one could describe our world as one that lives in the shelter of works greater than any we create. Except, it is more bitter than that; we live in the knowledge that we could create as our ancestors did, but we do not. It’s an odd failure of will rather than ability, or perhaps of intent.
We are living in an age that is starved of romance. But here’s the strangest part of the story: it’s easier than ever to find a physical connection with a partner. As they say: there’s an app for that.
As a result, it’s easier to hookup than go on a romantic date. Has that ever been true before in the history of society?
Sometimes having a good role model is a drag
A classic from ancient times, still appropriate today.
