Oh! What trash-spawned treasures I have to show you! But sun and song have kept me from the computer (though while scavenging delicious trash on Sunday the heavens emptied out all their water buckets on our heads), so in their stead this Wednesday I offer a song for the simple livers and the travelers among you. Diane Cluck sings like the bird on your porch and Jeffrey Lewis, well, he has a strange way of singing truth be told, but I love his lyrics.
So without further ado I present to you The Soundtrack to the Last Eight Hours of my Life (I like to listen to songs I like on repeat until I know them by heart/need at least five years before ever listening to them again):
“The ground is dirt, the dirt is sweet.” Amen. And speaking of prayers, wonder what the Rapture Christians are saying now. Or were they all been sucked up to heaven Saturday and this is hell? Well, I am at work today. I wonder.
On an only partially relevant note: Thanks to everyone who responded to my “weed or vegetable?” question. I was chagrined to look up and notice, on the very same day that I posted that question, that one of the trees around the garden had leaves of just the same shape…
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