Welcome to the Jungle

Someone needs to tell the plants that the last freeze is not usually until after April 15.

This here is what we call irrational exuberance.

This here is what we call irrational exuberance.

Ebb Tide Rising!

Ebb Tide Rising!

Musterd-n-Ketchup anyone?

Musterd-n-Ketchup anyone?

So one side of Redquarters requires a face shield, gauntlets, chainsaw chaps, aw heck, just get a set of Master Chief’s armor from HALO and some ties so we can pull back some of the rambler (just out of the picture) and Leidie Rose’s overflow.

A more modest specimin

A more modest specimen

You know what I’m going to be doing after the concerts next week. As Goethe put it “Roslein sagt, “Ich steche dich, das du ewig denkst an mich.” Roslein, Roslein, Rolsein rot, Roslein auf der Heiden.”*

Transl: The rosebud said, “I’ll stab you so that you will always remember me,” Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red, Rosebud from the moor-land.

 

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3 thoughts on “Welcome to the Jungle

  1. “The rosebud said, “I’ll stab you so that you will always remember me,” ”

    I’ve known girls like that.

    • That’s the gist of the entire (short) poem. There’s some unpleasant sub-text on both sides of the conversation, the boy and the rose/girl.

  2. My grandmother had a monster of a rosebush. I think it was called Pinocchio, or some such. Absolutely beautiful pink roses about the size of a quarter. The thing would be covered in blossoms and look like a pink cloud. It also had thorns that were proportionally small, meaning you couldn’t see them. Any time I would try to prune the thing (which it needed, regularly, so it wouldn’t take over the driveway, yard, and devour the other bushes) it would look like I had barely survived a mauling. And that was with leather gloves.

    Ah, I do miss rose wrangling, though.

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