The weekender, soil nails, green thumbs, late frosts, and tropical breeze. Plus the Frisson Politick, the "push-pull".

(supplemented by the Public Domain poem by Hart Crane: "Recitative", a poets.org "selection of the day". )

Yard-working with some admittedly late plantings, but in my defense, the weather has been crazy.  I have planters that have mold in the soil thanks to recent "tropical systems", and then there was a spate of late season frosts.

Let the same nameless gulf beleaguer us—
Alike suspend us from atrocious sums
Built floor by floor on shafts of steel that grant
The plummet heart, like Absalom, no stream.

We've talked a lot lately, you and I.  Its been really good.  Its helped me keep things unusually clear, and that clarity, was in part your doing.  I thank you, and more than that, I salute you.

We've talked about our self-worth, how we are most often misled by others, and we've talked about clarifying the core business: the stuff this is most important, not just by opinion or sense of favoritism, as in choosing, but a balance between life necessity and opinion.

Its something outside ourselves, it is, and quite often rebel against the popular notions, but there are, apart from opinion, popular notions and so forth, there is a kind of hard determinism at play, and we mitigate, using the term "soft determinism".

Why, so many do protest measures--the vulgar and gross--in part just to prove they can, to "move the needle", to bring about change, in part, but also to affirm themselves.  We have a kind of push-pull between exceptionalism and collectivism, evidenced in politics and other facets of life.  There are leaders that would bring about change to older standards, and then leaders that would advance various newer causes.

 

The highest tower,—let her ribs palisade
Wrenched gold of Nineveh;—yet leave the tower.
The bridge swings over salvage, beyond wharves;
A wind abides the ensign of your will . . . 

 

In alternating bells have you not heard
All hours clapped dense into a single stride?
Forgive me for an echo of these things,
And let us walk through time with equal pride.