Before I get over it I'd like to say a thing or two. The Winter prayer was lost. Apparently it was mindlessly overwritten with the American hunters would make a big ass army List. It struck my fancy at the time. I admit, I had a plate full. I've noticed with maturity that campaign years tend to preoccupy me. What with dead Ambassador, forsaken heroes, fiscal cliffs, gun control and other assorted crises vying for an in my face position any mishap was likely. And so it was, the greatest poem ever written was overwritten and lost. Bytes bit the dust. What can I say? Just a thing or two doesn't do justice to the loss. Once I thought the Bic would never run dry. As I age I wonder what the hell was I thinking about. Nothing to say is a terrible way to go. Write it down and use a good ink pen on old fashion paper. You know the kind with blue lines. One never knows when an Iranian EMP or asteroid will wipe out your electronics. Of course at this stage there are always senior moments waiting to crap on your winter prayer poems.
I don't recall if blackberries and honeysuckle were mentioned in my winter prayer. I kind of doubt it. I am however certain that they should be included in any gardeners prayer. Deliverance from these two trouble makers are without doubt a blessing. The fruit of the blackberry makes some to die for desserts and toppings. And, the fragrance of the honeysuckle wafting through the air is an intoxicating early summer delight. I am unsure if good can be found in all of Gods creations but a case would be arguably so for blackberries and honeysuckles. Nevertheless, deliver us from their evil in the garden. Left not managed their removal is painful. With the twining honeysuckle vine wrapping the thorny blackberry bramble tightly against your what ever body part is grabbed, expect a blue air moment in the garden at any time. Ah yes, winter prayers, deliver us from evil.
The blessing of deliverance from blackberries and honeysuckles this second week of February in the year of our Lord 2013 will seem absurd to most, i am sure. In the recent days past much of the Northeast US of A was buried under that beautiful Southern oddity, snow. I am sweating in my flannel shirt tugging on the persistent weeds of winter and my northern brethren are snow bound. Got milk and bread? Winter brings so many inconveniences.
I don't know if fall is the best season for writing winter prayers. It seems certain that it would be high on the list of four. The clarity and radiance of Autumn sharpens mental acuity. Heck, fall festivals are everywhere with people feeling good and celebrating the abundance of that wonderful season. Yep, that's when the winter prayer should be written, when your full and satisfied. Write it before the season of darkness creeps into the cold morning air making you groggy and heavy feeling like it's three thirty in the morning all day long. Sheesh, you're just trying to pee and get back to bed.
Groggy and heavy certainly describe the winter season. Shorter day light hours are courtesy of the folks Down Under. I suppose when they get it we don't. I know that's just too cut and dried but such it is. Winter comes and things sleep. Sleepy seeds prepare for their spring time leap. The cooler, darker days caress the sleeping earth tenderly to awaken it slowly.
There are signals to its awakening. Swollen buds and tender shoots quietly proclaim their intent. A lone honey bee scout checking out the hood during a sunny winter day looks a little heavy on the wing.. Lonesome beech trees punctuate the barren hardwoods with their cinnamon and brown sugar foliage. You can almost hear their whisper in the silent wood, we'll rise again. Memories of a time before cotton cleared these hills still linger in their sap, Hope is their strength, their winter prayer.
Beware of winter apathy. Shed it quickly like icicles in West Georgia's winter sun. Put on your work gloves and tend to the winter garden chores that are best done now. Divide those neglected daylilys. Pull the wild blackberries and honeysuckle. Prune the wayward wisteria. Be glad that the crocus and daffodils are awakening and that the budding red maples will, in an instance it seems, cast a cheerful pastel among the wooded hills of Georgia. Take pleasure in this season of renewal when the good stores of summer are preparing for a magnificent spring. There is so much to do you'll find little time for those wayward key strokes that crept in unawares presenting you with The American Hunters make a big ass army List saved under the title of A Winter Prayer.
It's an excellent time to prune the crape myrtle. Or is it? The debate goes on. Easy, don't butcher seems to be the consensus. Not so with the lirope. Take a mower to it if you want. Ah, the rose. The mass produced Knockouts can be pruned now. Wear gloves or not. You'll learn. Clean up that wandering Wisteria would ya. You know it's eating your fence. There is always something to do outside weather permitting. That caveat is all important. After all we are talking southern here. Yes we have nice days for working outside during the winter.Take advantage of it. Get some vitamin D. Work out some social networking frustrations before telling the world that it has hit the fan and you threw it. Write a collection of winter poems and overwrite it with the big ass army List. That oughta get ya going. While your at it wage war on the Chinese privet.
God gave parents the perfect plant for reigning in the unruly child and what have we done. Our experts have declared the Chinese privet a harmful exotic invasive and are urging its total elimination from the planet. Parents the deck is stacked against you. Without this plant growing outside the back door of my childhood home I may have become public enemy numero uno. We're talking corporeal punishment just off the back porch. It wasn't a big house. Mom could make a round trip to the bush in five seconds flat. Switching was an art Mom knew well. With four kids she had no problem managing the growth of that exotic invasive. I dare say if more homes included a well used privet hedge at the back door much better behaved children would be leaving the front door these days. With fewer parents so inclined to use a God given remedy for brats the plants are getting out of control. Birds love the berries or at least the meaty part of the berry. They poop the seed out with fertilizer and before long you can't see the forest for the privet hedge. Yea, they are a problem and so was the big ass Army List.
With this lament one might ask, have you ever heard of a backup? Well yes. yes I have but, by the third week it was overwritten. Bytes bit the dust. Had it not been for the moving of the muse on a rainy February day I still wouldn't know. I opened the Winter prayers folder and there it was in all it's glory, American Hunters: World's largest army. Well heck the way I see Chinese privet ain't got a chance. Come on guys get ya gloves on, there's work to do.