getting dirty.

it started pretty. it got unpretty.

I went to one of our local community gardens, where people sign on to grow stuff. this is happy. but it presages a strange thing … at the beginning of the growing year, all you see are human artifacts. well, yes … there are a few plants, but the interesting stuff is of our making.

people mostly grow veggies. and mystery veggies.

you have to wonder just what is wrong with some people. they engage in this most-cool gardening activity, and they just totally fumble the class-act and stick things like this everywhere. if they had had a goat’s head skull, i’m sure it would have gone up there.

you have the amateurs, and the prissy pros. then you have a third category … the supernatural ones that gardeners speak of only in whispers. these tools belong to the supernatural pros. the prissy professionals would bitch about leaving the pitchforks in the dirt and them going to rust and all that anal crap. those who transcend professionalism merely wipe their brow at the end of the day, slam the working end of the instrument into the ground, and go get some grub.

the ghost tent. there are a very few things growing here. why so few? why a tent? why the ghost?

and this is where it got ugly. a few steps outside the the garden toward the woods, and you encounter a rash of holly. it means you no good, so you cannot let yourself be carelessly blissed-out by the garden, as organic as it is.  gardens are gardens.  the woods, however, are the woods.