Hi.
Coffee: Lady Grey Tea
I asked the cashier for her opinion: “Is this pot too small?”
She said it wasn’t, and that she liked the color. That it looked like the desert. I thanked her. This was at Fairview Garden Center.
I bought a cactus. It’s a Bishop’s Cap, a small one, missing most of it’s thorns, though one still got me. It came in a black plastic planter and I sat on the steps outside my apartment while I transferred it to its new pot. Looking at it calms me, like watching birds, and inspires me, because it’s something growing, something alive, sharing this room with me, trading each others’ air.
On Monday, I’ll take the cactus to work. I want him in my office, something less sterile than all the paperwork. I’ve named him Herbert and I’ll tell people that, co-workers, customers, and maybe they’ll think I’m crazy. But this thing’s living, it’s simple, and it’s good, because it doesn’t need to be anything other than itself, and I love it for that. I hope it grows good thorns.
Currently Reading: Queen, Suzanne Crain Miller
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So they drove again, Vivien sitting up and looking now, but as navigator only, letting the desert scratch its own thorny poetry on the enormous moon.
Douglas Woolf, Wall to Wall
Livesay Writing 