These are the things that surround me now, the unlandscapes I gaze upon when waking, walking, brooding, and finally, retiring to dreams of Clooney and Depp and a nectar that doesn’t destroy. There is hardly what could be called a “landbase” left in this country of my girlhood, but the subtropical clime is always attemtping to reclaim itself from the alsphalt, concrete, lawns and golf courses. Weeds pop up through the sidewalks, tendrils of wild ivy claw at closed windows, air conditioning whirring a cold froth in the rooms of the civilized. The dogwood, magnolia and gardenia offer their stark white blossoms as if in pennance for our sins. They still grow wild here but we prune them and cut them and mold them and spray them to “protect” them from the rest of nature so that they fit our groomed gardens, our ideas of order and control.
I turned a turtle around headed straightlong for the busy road this morning. Turned him around to the creek that runs nearby, the one coursing with all the chemicals from the surrounding asphalt, concrete, lawns and golf courses. I had only the lesser of two evils to offer him, maybe not even that. I’m pretty sure he laughed at me as he meandered back towards the only water available.
I saw a writhing bright black and white kingsnake on the same road yesterday and have requested he be my temporary totem. He laughs at me a lot but he’s willing to dialogue between chuckles. He doesn’t hate me, he just feels sorry for me.