floating rose

Prickly Pear

Prickly Pear Cactus is one of the archetypal images conjured up by publicists to attempt to sell the American Southwest. Hereafter known as SW. Where I live this thing is everywhere. I consulted the OED for some illumination on the etymology of the word cactus. Straight out of Latin. Kaktos in the Greek. Prickly. Lovely. Find another word to define the first one. Wankers.
Prick=Sharp Pointed Stick. Well duh. Did you really expect something else? #17 is the one that refers to the male appendage citing an early reference of 1592. Figured you might be wondering about that.
Most of my family is convinced that my fascination with cactus is a recurrent symptom of mental instability. Australian ranchers in Queensland would probably concur with this. It seems that this plant was brought to that island on purpose. The apocryphal tale that it was brought by an immigrant Texan's homesick wife may have been true of one of the 59 species of these spiny plants, but in 1788 at least one cladode was brought to that continent where it and others of its kind flourished to the tune of 29 million acres.

At that time, Spain and Portugal had a world-wide monopoly on the important cochineal dye industry and the British Government was keen to set up its own source of supply within its dominion. The red dye derived from cochineal insects was important to the western world's clothing and garment industries. It was, for example, the dye used to colour the British soldiers' red coats.

It was at the instigation of Sir Joseph Banks that a cochineal dye industry was established at Botany Bay. Little is known of the fate of those first plants introduced by Captain Phillip, but it has been established that the particular variety of prickly pear brought to Australia in the First Fleet to set up a dye industry was "smooth tree pear" (Opuntia vulgaris). This type of cactus is still found along coastal areas of New South Wales, and is classified as a noxious weed. However, Opuntia vulgaris never developed into a major problem as did some of its relatives - especially Opuntia stricta spp. and O. aurantiaca

Prickly Pear History

It didn't work out so well for the settlers of Australia. It is well-documented that it became a noxious pest plant. As any camper, hiker, cowboy, city slicker who has ever had the misfortune to fall into a clump can attest cactus can be painful, decidedly so. The Pear Facts is a nifty little fact sheet concerning its history in that part of the world. In 1925 they decided to give this little bitty moth a try, Cactoblastis cactorum It is called "biological control" when we send one organism to attack another. Ladybird beetles (ladybugs) will eat aphids, but if you become an active participant in the hunt, you too have become organic. So, the Aussies gave it a try. Why not? Fire didn't kill it. Arsenicals not so much. But the very hungry caterpillars? OMG! They never quit! That critter was so successful they built a memorial hall complete with historical stone marker, Boonarga Cactoblastis Memorial Hall. HOWEVER, it is not a welcome immigrant here. At least not to me and a few others. Ranchers might want to take off to Puerto Rico and smuggle back some egg casings if they knew how. Be patient men, it will make it over the Mississippi eventually. The only thing that will slow it down is the cold or other biological characters we bring against it. It is difficult to consider Texas and Mexico without the ubiquitous Opuntia species. Yeah, sure there is a market for nopalitos and tunas, but it is the cultural implications rather than the economic impact that bothers me. There will be no vacuum formed in the panoply of plants that inhabit the SW. Again, the ranchers are scratching their heads wondering why on earth I would want to trade cactus and yucca for grass and forbs. Down in the core of my being I am not too terribly concerned. Prickly Pear will survive this moth attack.
I do not know an easier plant to grow. Take one pad, throw it on the ground and wait. That's it. You don't even have to actually put it in the soil. Merely having one or two aeroles (where the spines are) in contact with the soil is enough for the pad to grow roots.
There are two basic types; dry, green fruited ones and the fleshy purple ones. There are many variations in pad size, spine length, height and distribution. Flower color ranges from a clear yellow to a pinkish red. It is unusual but not rare to see more than one color on a plant due to sporting/mutation. Color is not a species determinant.
Other tales of Prickly Pear? The story goes that when the Aztecs found an eagle perched on a cactus growing from a rock eating a snake that they would build a great city. Tada! Tenochitlan. It was on a Prickly Pear cactus that the caracara ate a rattlesnake in the middle of the swamp. Some say the coyote uses his tail to brush off the spines before he eats the tuna. Yeah, sure sounds great.
It is certainly edible. I like nopalito and potato tacos. The test for palatability of the pads is to snap one in two. If it breaks cleanly without the interior cords being present it is still tender enough to eat. The green fruit probably has some medicinal properties but I do not know them. The purple fruit is sweet, but seedy. Good ones are plum colored, 2-3 inches long and swollen with juice. Since mankind has managed to make booze out of every sugary or carbo-laden plant this one also has been fermented and distilled. Tell me how it tastes, never tried it. Watch out for the tiny hairlike spines called glochids. Duct tape works well to remove these tiny tormenters. Flower petals can be scrambled with eggs. Gotta try that this year. I see nopalito offered in my circle of taquerias around Easter, but I can find it at some year round. The pads are collected, spines removed if present, sliced, parboiled and canned for later use. Bust open a Mason jar of the tart, crisp slices, throw'em in a skillet with some taters and onions and slap that all in a tortilla. Good eatin' my friend.
Cactus isn't for everybody. Prickly Pear does not belong in a bed near the house or any walkway. Out in the median or in some hot, unforgiving corner that bakes in the summer sun is where it belongs. Prickly Pear does not care if you grow it on purpose or not. If you drag chains across it or burn it with fire it will regrow. We have developed chemical controls and it does have a formidable antagonist in the Cactoblastis, but despite all our efforts and under the harshest of circumstances it has and will continue to survive.
Opuntia, from the town in Greece, Opus. 250 species worldwide and 59 in North America. I wonder where I can find some good nopalito tacos today. Perhaps over at Vera Cruz, they have damn good salsa verde too.

A hat for summer

I was asked to post a picture of a hat that cost me $50.

Right over here>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It has served me well. It keeps the rain off my head, soaks up the sweat fairly well and does not generally fly off when the wind blows in 30mph gusts. I do have to screw it on a little tighter on those days, but so far I haven't had to chase it very often. Hats are not a fashion statement for me, they are an integral part of my work clothes. I will spend extra on a good hat that I know will last me a solid season and not fall apart under duress. Since it is winter it has sat patiently awaiting the return of the sweaty seasons. It will soon be back in service.

New Gardens

There are gardens we plant in places that have seen flowers before
places that have known the fragrance of roses and the seeds of zinnias

Then there are places that have not seen anything but the grass or trees that have been
an unbroken chain for millenia. Ours is the task to change it or preserve it.
I cannot change the fact that there will be new houses in old places.
I can help them find the plants that are best suited to that place
and how to maintain the integrity of the environment.
Follow the directions on the label. La Label es La Ley. Why is it so much easier for the female of the species to grasp this idea? Because they actually learned how to follow the directions of a recipe? Application of chemicals whether they are considered organic or not. Some chemists despise the terms "organic" and "chemical" when it comes to agriculture, gardening or landscaping. The others just giggle and wag their heads in disdain. They have entered the vernacular and I am stuck with them for lack of better options.
Not following the directions on the label of the bag, bottle or container of stuff whether it came from the petro-chemical industry, squeezed out of an orange peel or was scraped off the barn floor means that it can be ineffective, dangerous to non-target species or a waste of money. If you spray orange oil as a herbicide willy-nilly anywhere you have a mind to and without regard for established procedures then you will cause harm where it was not intended. Applying any product without regard for the directions is going to cause problems.

There are so many products on the market that fail to live up to expectations. I thoroughly detest "weed blocker" because it does not work as promoted. In fact it actually makes the situation worse. I have pulled up far more of this weed laden fabric and impermeable plastic than I have ever laid down. One of my previous bosses was crazy about the stuff. It wasn't as though we did not have an unlimited supply of mulch and compost. He was convinced that this cloth would prevent weeds from growing. It does not. It cannot. A perennial plant will grow through it and embed itself in the fabric. Nutsedge will embed its tubers in the fabric meaning that extraction of them is impossible other than cutting out the fabric and splicing a fresh piece.
It sucks. It doesn't make my job easier, it makes it harder. The only time I find fabric like this useful is as a backing for a dry stacked wall to prevent or retard the soil from seeping through the gaps in the blocks or stone. That is it. As a weed preventer or barrier it is worthless.
Another product which seems to be heavily promoted is Atrazine. Supposedly a wonder bullet capable of rendering any lawn on par with a USGA green. The problem is that they don't bother to inform you outside of the very small paragraph buried in the boilerplate that it is mobile in the soil and can damage trees, shrubs and flowers. Gee, that sort of info might be handy.
I am downright anal about putting out chems of any kind. I want to know as much as is available about what it does and what to expect. I want to know about any risks or shortcomings of the product. The retailer just wants to sell me something. I don't begrudge him that fact.

Flowers

I like flowers. Growing turf for football, soccer, golf or cows requires all the brain power of a gnat. Dirt+water+sun+some sundry elements/ leafy green material= Turf. Yeah, sure the golf course goes to great lengths to present a table top in the form of a green to confound lowly humans into breaking their putter into pieces so that they will buy another one, but they have a whole barn full of toys/equipment to fool you into believing that it requires a degree to run the place. The lady who owns one of the most exclusive private clubs in Texas, daughter to the man who established Colonial has exactly three fellows of Hispanic/Latino ethnicity who combined might have fifteen minutes of formal instruction in the art of turfgrass cultivation.
I asked the man when we went on tour if he had problems with migratory birds bothering the greens or fairways looking for grubs or other insects. His reply was yes it happens occasionally, but it really was not much of an issue. I inquired as to his method of excluding these federally protected species of avian attackers of good golf.
"Oh, I just tie the dog between two trees for a few days and then they leave."
Yeah, it requires some serious brain power to grow grass.
Flowers on the other hand will confound the most dedicated of gardeners. As if they were bent on a suicidal deathwish they receive our loving attention with all the regard of a catatonic patient. Coddling, coercion, cajoling in any measure will garner me nothing with some of the more recalcitrant ones. Some survive and even thrive as a means to spite me. "Oh you ignore me now! I will show you, you sorry sonofabitch! I am gonna bloom my ass off! Take that!"
They perturb and intrigue me. They never cease to surprise me.
Grass is easy, corn is easy, flowers are hard.

Texas 2 and 5

Texas 2

crunchy sound of frozen turf wind whistling in the trees

icy fingers touching your neck

taste of dust and rust, as the plow parts the soil

clang and clamor of metal

touch of glass windows, shining in the sun

bustling city

hurrying to and fro, from anywhere and everywhere

farmer alone on the tractor

hub of the wheel touching the rim of the earth

buzzing bugs in the trees of summer

the crackle of grasshoppers in a field

relentless sun beats down upon the earth, hammering the inhabitants

the ants go down in the heat of the day

pity the individual who must go out to burn their skin

tar on the road is sticky hot, boiling in the sun

we survive, knowing that someday soon summer will give up and go away

usher in the cool air of autumn

with a rushing wind the trees shed their leaves

frost burns the leaves and drives them back to earth

so it goes on

rain and snow, sunshine, wind, earth and sky

Texas #5

Shall i say we are more like an amalgam or the conglomerated collection of souls?

Mashed together like so many taters

we sit at the crossroads of earth and sky

the flowers of our nativity persist

People from all over the globe come here, passing by or persisting

maintaining their specific tastes and passions and sharing them around

Dare I say that the influx of East and West has not had an impact?

if it weren't for Yankees, would we have A/C in Texas?

I might have never discovered horseradish on beef or sushi and wasabi

I wrestle with this 'harmless perversion' of loving Texas

a state that bore forth W, LBJ, and Barbara Jordan

Billie Sol Estes and Walter Cronkite

There is much good and evil simultaneously

Peculiar place this Texas yet just right for me

I miss it when I’m gone

John Hiatt

Slow Turning




Perfectly Good Guitar


Something Wild

more from the file

On a paper towel

When the shock wears off

the bouts of sad are fewer and farther between

you begin to realize you are alone

it is likely to be that way for the foreseeable future

when you split the blanket it is

so much more than the partitioning of stuff and belongings

or even who is the primary conservator of the children's welfare

it is that you must recollect yourself

pick-up from the murky mire move on

find some worthwhile tasks you can simply occupy your time with

Somewhere down the road I’ll feel like myself again

despite the fact that they tell me I sound more like me than anytime

in the last decade

something is missing and amiss

I am not he who was before and I am not sure I want to be

I would feel a little better if the me I am now is ok with everybody else

even if I am not sure who that is

Music#1

The strings do not know words

They know not the limitations of

Language culture or time

Notes are universal, rhythm is inherent

Music is born into us

As much as our color of hair or skin

Even if we have no talent, no skill

Music touches us and the ear that hears

A soul that is stirred

By the sounds of string and wind

The skin of a drum

Is not enslaved by words

Even if a mind cannot grasp a song in a language not my own

My heart, mind and soul

Can nonetheless be touched by the presence of music

Things to bear in mind about Austin

Only those who are familiar to Austin will understand and find the humor...

1. First, it's pronounced AWS-TUN. It doesn't matter how they say it in other places.

2. Forget the traffic rules you learned elsewhere. Austin has its own set of traffic rules. There's no book about them. All you can do is get in your car and hope you survive to learn them.

3. All directions start with "Go down Mopac...'cause you don't want to get on I-35." No one knows for sure what 'Mopac' means.

4. Burnet Road, Braker Lane, and Lamar Blvd. have no beginning and no end.

5. It is impossible to go around a block and wind up on the same street that you started on.

The Chamber of Commerce calls this a scenic drive.

6. The 8:00am rush hour is from 6:30am to 9:30am.

The 5:00pm rush hour is from 3:30p to 7:15pm.

Friday's rush hour starts on Thursday morning.

7. If you actually stop at a yellow light, then you cannot be from Austin.

You may only apply your brakes when the end of a yellow light and the beginning of the red light creating a burnt-orange hue. This is Longhorn Country, after all.

8. If you like being an individual, don't even think of working for Dell. You'll be branded like cattle and made to walk all over town with your Dell Tag around your neck or clipped on to your belt loop. Ninety-eight percent of the people within a 200 mile radius work for Dell.

When someone says "Michael Dell", Dell employees are trained to face Round

Rock, hit their knees, put their face to the ground, weep, and rock back and forth.

9. Just remember that Mopac IS Loop 1; Capital of Texas Hwy IS 360; and U.S. 183 IS Research Blvd., Anderson Land, Ed Bluestein Blvd. and Old Bastrop Hwy; 2222 IS Northland Dr. or Allendale Rd. or Koenig Lane. Don't try to figure it out. Just accept it. If you question the intelligence behind this naming convention, people will simply tilt their heads to the right and stare at you.

10. If moisture is determined to be rain, and not sweat, all traffic must immediately come to a screeching halt; ditto for daylight savings time, a female UT student applying eye-shadow across the street, or a flat tire three lanes over.

11. DO NOT attempt to access any road after an apocalyptic event like snow or SXSW (South by Southwest Music Convention).

Construction on I-35 AND U.S. 183 is a way of life and a permanent form of entertainment. Get used to it!

12. Attn: All telephone solicitors...DO NOT correct my pronunciation when I say I live in Manchaca, TX. It's pronounced MAN-shack (just like a man living in shack). Also realize that the city of Manchaca (MANshack) is in Hays and Travis Counties, and there is also a very long street in Austin named Manchaca (MANshack)! The city of Manor and Manor Rd. are pronounced

'MAY-ner'. We don't like corrections on that either. And, for God's sake, DON'T pronounce the 'E' at the end of Guadalupe. It's Gwada-LOOP and we like it that way!

13. Burnet Road is pronounced BURN-it, not Bur-NET. Koenig Lane is pronounced KAE-nig not KOE-nig. The old airport (Robert Mueller) is pronounced Robert Miller and is on Airport Boulevard. The new airport (Austin-Bergstrom) is no where near Airport Boulevard. It's in the city of Del Valle pronounced Dell Valley!

14. Keep in mind that the sloppily dressed 'hippie' in worn-out sandals and earrings is probably the latest IPO millionaire.

15. Stay away from the Congress Ave. Bridge at sundown if you do not like the thought of being in an Alfred Hitchcock movie. (Largest Mexican Freetail Bat population in the US.)

16. And, yes, we all know that there's a man in a teddy and a tiara on Congress Ave. It's Leslie, and he probably makes more money than you do. (Surely you have a homeless, celebrity drag queen that likes to run for mayor where you live, too, right?)

And you wonder why there are so many bumper stickers that say 'Keep Austin Weird'?

----

Don't forget to smile

I really have to remember to be happy sometimes

It isn’t hard.

Life is too hilarious to be sad all the time
The words of a child

Stories from old people
Some little blurb in the paper about a glow in the dark fish in pink and green

Things like that make me laugh
There are many reasons to cry

sometimes I have to look for a reason to laugh
I can read the funniest funnies in the world

See a movie that should make me piss my pants
But if I am determined to be sad

Then that is what I am

I think it is better to be happy

blues and the substance of music

John Lee Hooker

Hey, yeah I know him

saw him down there at Antone's

premier gig in Austin, TX

I swear he had five fingers of whiskey in a highball glass

Big fat Gibson guitar sitting there tickling the strings with part of the house band and the remainder of his crew, long haired whiteboy working lead beside him and a tall black man blowing sax

I was on a chair at the back, girlfriend standing before me, wondering at the spectacle of a man

I will not soon forget "Tupelo", even if I did not hear it that night

I read one time the efforts of a man to write into musical notation what the man rendered into sound

It was complicated and was the best effort he could muster, to transcribe into notes what the man played in the honky-tonk

all he had was a piece of plywood, his guitar and himself

I heard the first thing BB King played was the wire from a broom, between two nails on the front porch, his slide was the spool remaining from the thread

find a way to translate that into four lines of notations

every good boy does fine...is insufficient

pavarotti cannot read music

john lee can't either

and those who write music

have a hard time figuring out what EXACTLY

either one was doing on the stage or recording

and I am in the audience

somehow I am amused by all this

physics

you can either measure the speed of the electron

or find its place

you cannot do both

Ha!

measure me this

find me the substance of a man

weigh the words and find their mass

i challenge those who would measure out this life

who would know exactly what is the facts of the matter

you cannot

you can only get so close

then you have to feel it

and that has no ruler, no scale

no rule book

you have to find it for yourself

more art, if you can stand it

i still think hippies were germinated back during WWI when the rest of the world was
still thinking war was an honorable task and not something found at the
wrong end of a gun walking at a trench
some men went mad
and others just made like it was so, who would know?
throw another thousand men into the breach of fortifications
and let them billow upon the waters of lead

yes, let us walk into the gunfire of the implacements of machines
brilliant! let us salute the brass with our ass
so well informed, so shall we fight our fight
let us walk into the teeth of the guns
and perhaps we shall survive going over the top

when the brass asks, no tells us
you, go here and do this
and it is patently idiotic
we tend to buck at the idea
why are we expected to do any less now?

if the marlboro soldier of this latest war
has found himself divorced
and unemployed
what is that to the VA?
such is the lot of the veteran

we treat our disabled lobbyists better than we do our veterans
and that aint right

art: George Grosz, "The Convict"

100 years war

100 years of war

Finally saw the DNC's hard-hitting commercial
that which has raised and will continue to raise the ire
of the RNC and anybody on the other side of the aisle who voted for this damn thing
they ought to run it in every damn market that exists, until we all know it by heart

I did a diary on protest songs, like that was a first
got some comments and lots of links
it was reassuring to see the young and old remind me
of what I did not remember and was not aware of
good stuff maynard, eat it up

i cannot get through seeing the "War Pigs" edit on Youtube I found
without tears and anger, even now I choke up
I applaud them who gave it to all of us, lest we ever forget the images
that they do not want us to see

if we, the nation, decided to park the dead of the Civil War
in Mrs. Lee's rose garden
let us park our memories in Crawford and Kennebunkport
lest they ever forget. Let it be as the albatross that follows their every tack
haunt them into the grave of their own making

I cannot forget. Whiskey will not kill it
weed only magnifies the sharp images in my brain
my heart bleeds liberally upon page and there is no recourse
but to protest and be active, keep blogging, keep sending emails and money
fight the power. make them die like we have died
I will not relent. I cannot relent.
I owe them too much.

War Pigs

Save our souls.

Hockey Poem #1

Being a man where I knew
the smell of churned turf and sweaty pigskin
it really wasn't too far a leap of logic
that the flying fight of hockey
would appeal to my better parts of sportsmanship
and my inner demons of bloodlust and battle
I am awaiting the outcome of what shall be
to see the same and say I was there
I cannot skate any better than a milk cow
But I know a good game when I see one
sport does not know nationality, religion or color
of skin or flag. It is but a game we play
if it is a good game we play and watch
I found stick and puck or it found me
at any rate the 2OT is coming up
and I am out of beer





Verse 2
it was the 5th longest in the modern era, so they say
at 1:23A Central Time on Cinco de Mayo the captain scored
it was over on a Monday morning
sudden death football and extra innings do not compare
the rules do not change, they carry on as before
they survive on sheer guts it seems
I remember games like these

"Golf is a good walk spoiled." Mark Twain

It is the Byron Nelson this weekend. The wind will blow, Tiger will not be there and most of the other big names won't either. When Lord Byron died they stopped coming. They do not like to play in Texas. It makes them look bad. They don't like the wind. They don't like the heat. The Byron does not like to admit it, The Colonial coming up soon, they don't like to admit it either, but it was only a sense of duty that kept the big names coming to Texas. Yeah, Tiger can say whatever he wants, but even if his leg wasn't on the recovery side of surgery, there is no way on earth he would play either tournament. They don't like playing in Texas. Texas is brutal and unforgiving to golfers. The shifting winds are unpredictable. The heat is relentless and the humidity is suffocating.
Golfers whine and complain about EVERYTHING. I know from personal experience that they will bitch about anything they can find when they aren't having a good round. The pin placement is poor. The fairways need to be mowed. The beer isn't cold enough and the ball washers need more soapy water. This is why I love it when they have to work hard to make par. I detest tournaments where the winning score is double digit negative. That is golf for slackers. It is part of why I love seeing them have to deal with the fast greens and vicious wind when it gets unseasonably hot in Augusta or down at the Player's in FLA. I want the course to fight back. Rolling over and showing its belly in submission should not be an option. I wish they made EVERY tournament have the same characteristics as the US Open.Work your ass off and quit your bitching.
I get really tired of complaining sports figures, whatever their endeavor. It is a freaking game that you get to play for money. No matter how you spin it, no matter what you say, you get to play a game I have to pay for to do something I love and get paid for it. The least complainers I know are hockey players and even they are prone to it at times. Bad ice, bad fans, bad refs, whatever, shut up and play. Nascar drivers hollered about the track in Texas for the first few years. Eddie Gossage got so irritated with them he finally said the same thing, "Shut up and race."
Sure, they have every right to complain, bitch and moan. I also have the right to call them on it. If there are valid reasons for their complaints like water leaking under the track, poor ice conditions, anything that might present a real safety threat, those should be and are addressed. But, complaining because of something that is inherent in the sport or is equal to all players is pathetic and shameful.

The third may become first.

I am going to start giving more love to this blog. It is a solid blog area and I will either begin reposting some old ones or post some fresh stuff. As I have said earlier I do have other blogs that have gotten more of my time, but this one has features that I have missed. Will be seeing you more often.

Cactus musing

It is not often that I get a call to post about cactus. It really is a niche market of horticulture. A person either REALLY likes cactus or they do not. There is no ambivalence concerning this plant. It is either an evil plant foisted upon unsuspecting ranchers and farmers or it is a gleaming jewel shining in the sun. I tend to think it is a gift of God. Cabeza de Vaca certainly was glad for the tunas he had to eat on his long journey across Texas. I have concerns with the cactus other than its beautiful flowers and other remarkable features, but they seldom enter the conversation. This is a sample of the cactus I have gathered over the years. I really do need a better close-up lens. I detest the lack of focus at close range.

I wonder what to write when I put fingers to keyboard when it comes to cactus. They have become such an integral part of me that things I do not even consider anymore are still questions that are being pursued by others. How to fix a characteristic in a species, how to manipulate the genes and the limitations of the plant concerning the harshness of winter are what I am preoccupied with at the moment. It is immaterial to me if I ever pursue a Masters of Science with the cactus as a focal point. I will continue to study it as a part of my interests.

There are so many kinds of cactus. It would be very easy for me to gather as many species as I could grasp. I have avoided this as much as possible. I have tried to limit myself to ones that will withstand the rigors of the weather outside without any assistance from me. If I ever move to a more tropical climate, one even more so than the southern clime I know inhabit, I will be hard pressed to continue this limitation. I will most likely continue to grow roses, herbs and other plants, but the cactus will have a place in my gardens.

Some people maintain that they should not be watered at all during the winter months. I say that is silliness. If I have a cactus in a sunny window that keeps it active then why would I not water it? If the greenhouse is hotter than blue blazes in January I am likely to water the plants, cactus included. The bottom line? If it is still heavy or damp with water, then do not water it. Wow! that is so hard to grasp! This is probably heresy to some cactophiles, but I do not like seeing a plant dry up and wither.

I doubt this will be of any benefit to other gardeners. Damn near everything I have said is the basic logic of plants in general. Make it use its water, but if it is dry water it. It sounds so simple, but it never ceases to amaze me how many plants die from too much water or not enough. No wonder that the cactus sites I have visited almost to a man recommend that they not be watered in the winter. I can't help but think that there are scores of cactus that have withered away in their tiny containers cut off from the rain and denied the sprinkle from a water can. It should not be that way. I have rescued a few of these poor victims of misinformation. A new container, a little H20 and food do wonders for a starving and thirsty plant.

Even down here hard by the coast I still water the cactus. Even this month I will water them. Even a week after a rain of 4.5 inches or ~12cm. All the roots they have are in a pot no bigger than a coffee cup. Where is it supposed to retain the moisture? Where will the roots grow other than to continue their encircling of the container and become even more rootbound?

Art Ramble

It just doesn’t do it justice. It is called “Ashchenblume”. A fella named Anselm Keifer assembled/painted, smeared it together. It is a little hard to tell but there is a massive sunflower turned upside down directly in the middle of it. It was finished in 1997. Flower out of ashes. The work is pretty damn massive. I don’t think I could even get it in the loading dock of most buildings much less the front door of my place. It takes up nearly an entire wall. The bottom part of it is pieces of concrete and busted, rusted wire. It is a picture of the Reichstag, think Congress. Out of the ashes of life this flower grew and was uprooted and yet it grew and flourished. I see some hope and perseverance in it. Fifty years after the ashes of WWII were buried and swept away this artist of Germany was still thinking about the resurrection from the fire.

I wonder why I post a lot more about this stuff we call modern art than I do what is called western art. I know Charlie Russell and Frederick Remington quite well. I grew up with their pictures of the American West and I know them by heart. They are approachable and graspable, far easier to digest and understand. Perhaps it is a change in taste, but I have not lost my eye for a good western either. Maybe it is that I think modern art gets sort of slammed by people on occasion. What the hell is it? We paid money for this? It is worth how much?

Let us drift back a few years to Jesse Helms, Robert Mapplethorpe and Andres Serrano and whether or not we were going to fund art that offended people. There were plenty of works that through the years had offended the sensibilities of the public at large. Michelangelo’s “David” had to wear a breech clout for a few years like he was Tonto. But, “Piss Christ” just shook’em all up. It wasn’t like Marcel duChamp painting a mustache on the “Mona Lisa” and putting some graffiti on the bottom saying she was hot in the pants, no this was offending religion and not other artists or artistic conventions. The only problem was nobody stopped to ask the artist, Andres, what exactly he was trying to say to the rest of us. Nobody took the time to even ask, the Archbishop of Melbourne condemned it as blasphemous and Jesse Helms and Al D’Amato got all fired up too. Damned hippie artists, well we will see how they like it when we jerk the purse strings back. We’ll just gut the National Endowment of Arts and see how they like that. It wasn’t too much longer after that and Mapplethorpe and his collection of photographs came out. Literally. I don’t think anybody in the art world was unaware that Robert was a four-alarm flamer, but it was shocking, shocking, that anyone could call that art. I still have yet to look at any of the photos in question, but I have seen enough of his other works to realize that the man was an artist. Personally, I don’t care what the artist has to say, I think they should be allowed to say it. I still haven’t said why Serrano, A put a plastic Jesus in urine and sealed it up in more plastic, but I think we, the collective should either go look and find the artist’s words for himself or at the very least read some discussion of it.

http://www.artsandopinion.com/2004_v3_n3/pisschrist.htm

some really heavy plowing, only for the brave

I think some of us are here to defend artists and musicians. Every once in a while someone REALLY pisses off somebody else about their art or music. Hell, even Ozzy had to go to court about some messed up kid who ended his own life. We get to step in as a lawyer, an opinionator or blogistinian and say leave them alone, quit picking on art or the guitar picker.

video games

At the risk of sounding too much like an old geezer, but I do remember a day when there were no video games. There was no room dedicated to the Xbox, Wii or Playstation. There were only pinball machines and skee ball. There were a few arcade games at the fair, like the one in "Jaws", I think it was called "Shark Attack". It was sort of a video game, but pale by comparison to games today. I remember when one of my buddies got an Atari. I remember "pong".
Those days are gone. I can't get through the salad at the pizza joint before my daughter is running to the game room. Even if I have laid down the law and said there is not going to be a single quarter spent on a game. I said earlier this week that we would go to the pizza place and she could play the games. She managed to wolf down two pieces of pizza before she went to the games. By the time I said that it was time to go I was ready to pull out a shotgun and start blasting away at these overgrown noisemakers.
I heard about an old boy who grew up before there were juke boxes. It was his habit to put out enough money on the machine to buy silence until he was ready to leave the cafe. I thought it was a little ornery of him when I first read it, but I can identify with him now.
I think I should not go into an arcade with fewer than two beers under my belt. I might do better with a set of earplugs too.

Fox guarding hen house

What? protect consumers? No, I am here to protect business from consumers and Congress.

Members of the Chamber of Commerce do not belong on commissions designed to protect consumers. The business of America is not business. I do not begrudge anyone the ability to make a buck, but when you break the rules you are going to be punished. We can accept this on the road, we recognize the fact that there are rules to keep us all safe, but when we expect corporations to do the same they cry that it is unduly harsh and squelches their ability to work.
Yeah and I want to drive 90 mph and give the finger to the anybody who gets in my way too.
Nord Says No to more toy inspectors, even if she only has one.

This is clearly a case of the fox guarding the hen house. The same sort of mentality that gave us a man in charge of mines who had to get his job while Congress was on recess because even the Republicans on the committee recognized that he was unfit for the job. W gave it to him anyway, I expect at the recommendations of Cheney. I am so tired of business' interests being the only concern of this administration. The number of inspectors is half what it was in the 80's. 1.8 million dollars is paltry for a fine. The proposed 100 million is nearing the ballpark of what they might actually feel. This administration reminds me of a spoiled child who screams that it is unfair that they have to follow the same rules as everyone else. That somehow they are not subject to the same rules as everyone else. If they do it, it is ok, but no one else can because they, the spoiled child, are special. What a crock.