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​Balcony Musings

8/28/2017

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I’ve been reviewing the year’s events lately in view of what those events have been. It’s easy to do these days on the balcony in such thoughtful times, when it’s calm and comfortable, as the blog archives will show.  It’s a meditative space.
 
For one thing, and just for the record, I don’t expect the guy the white house to be there a year from now and I’m not alone.  I’ve heard that all over the place lately and after having sounded out the plants on the terrace I think they agree as well: they’re right out there in some ways.  Of course some of those plants I’ve grown from the seeds of previous plants, previous years and they all tend to be consistently reliable in their tendency to agree with the guy who supplies the water, though they’ll still lean which ever way they will as the wind blows.
 
Ultimately these days who knows?  I know how to grow assorted flowers, everything (seeds) that can be found on racks in supermarkets and dollar stores, plus a few balcony perennials, hanging baskets and wild flowers (weeds).  I’ve got mint and bay plants flowering and store bought cat grass doing well too, but alas, not so much luck with the other more intoxicating variety this year.  Next year I’ll do it up proper or maybe try to get some sort of grant or social assistance that helps disabled people grow medical marijuana; it’s a liberal government after all.
 
Down south it’s a little different.  An asshole was elected because he played to and was heard by people who would have time turned back instead of steering the more forward and natural course. He struck a chord with the disenfranchised and the deluded.  A lot wish the good old days could happen again, because things seemed better then and it seems almost believable to some there now, the idea that maybe somehow they could all turn back time.  And maybe that’s natural because lots of folk want to do that, for one reason or another, but it’s also too bad because it is just self-delusion. Time goes on.  Powers shift.  Automation is here to stay in factories and business everywhere.  And as far as a return to coal mining goes, who in tune with this century would want to go back to those times or try to involve others in such activities when so many better alternatives exist?
 
On my deck, obscured by flowering plants, a fully functional barbeque sits with a fat, fully charged gas cylinder, unused, almost disguised by the foliage, though potentially explosive - as it has for years.  It might sound all very melodramatic, but the truth is that it is probably harmless, especially if left alone.  That fat gas-filled blowhard in the white house probably is too.  But it’s unlikely that he’ll last long enough to do any real harm: he can’t seem to figure out how to get any of his backward agenda passed.  If he doesn't end it for all of us by pushing the button sooner more likely than later his base supporters will recognize him for what he is and he’ll be artlessly dealt out of the whole deal one way or another.
 
Still, it’s enough to keep one distracted to such a degree that it becomes irksome for people like me and hard to keep quiet about.  Hence one blogs.
  
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