-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
watching american hollow again
Spent this morning trying to save the roses in the front yard. Took about 3 hours worth of work. Between the glyphosate spray over and the neighbor breaking the canes and the harsh winter and winds, they are struggling.
This isn't us. I have a pretty good green thumb, and my husband has like, a green arm. He's definitely a plant whisperer. This is how things go here. You live here long enough, you're going to need some help.
I feel like it's all futile, but I love my plants and my land still. It's in our best interest to keep everything healthy for what they call "curb appeal."
I wish someone would buy this house, maybe as a multi-generational home, and take care of it and take care of the plants and the garden and have a better time of it here than we have.
But, I know it will probably be sold to flippers and all the plants will get killed and all the good we've tried to do will be erased, as if it was never here.
All the native plants we rescued from the forests before they got bulldozed, and all the native plants we bought and have nurtured...the trees we saved from wire fences...the trees we paid full price for and watered during the droughts.
This place is rotten shit, but it's still my home and it makes me so sad and so angry that I am being forced out.
So what. It makes me empathetic to immigrants. Natives. Victims of genocide and war.
I wish some things in my life didn't have to be such learning experiences.
6:03 PM - Wednesday, Jun. 12, 2019
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------