Withering away…

A simple white phlox that normally thrives under all conditions, dying next to the poisoned soil next to the fence.

My hybrid phlox by the house, blooming like crazy, yet struck by the powderly mildew.

It is amazing how a vibrant, beautiful thing can wither away right in front of your eyes.

You stand by and pull out all the stops with remedies, with ways of improving things, and you still see the same thing happening: vibrance turns dull, what was once healthy, or at least appeared healthy, is not. The prognosis is questionable.

Look at the two photos: one is loaded with floral embellishment, the other is brown on the top and looking as if it is headed for disaster, victim of being neglected, poisoned by mean spirit and Monsanto, pushed to the edge from people who claim to love and yet do not, pulling out their poison in hope that they will make a mark and make something once very alive die.

Empathy is lacking. Care is lacking. Only hatred and bitterness is alive and kicking, forcing its venom into the soil and slowly, ever so slowly killing off the spirit of a plant that is truly hard to kill.

The irony here is the the phlox with intense flowers is actually problematic. It was planted and thrived, and actually has some issues, being a hybrid; it is prone to powdery mildew, and my lack of being careful with its watering, has been attacked. Yet, it still has flowers beyond belief. The one that is withering away is a plain white variety, gotten from Dr. Pagi’s Des Plaines Valley Animal Hospital. He told me that his simple pink and white varieties were not as beautiful, but they made up for that by being immune to the mildew. Apparently it is not immune to the

My poor phlox is victim of a mean-spirited human being who has so much internal venom from his dealings with life, that he needs to spew poison in his rocks on his side of the fence and poison the phlox. He cares not for what is right, we are just human beings who, for whatever reason, have gotten in his way. His black and white view of life, his hatred, his ire at his own problems, have granted him the desire to create his own narrative of the problems he has with us. To him, we are disposable, and to be used as he sees fit. He has no empathy. He just thinks he is right, and to him that is all that matters. He is not alone.

So sad…so much and so many of us waste our time on poisonous hatred instead of taking care of each other and filling the sad world we live in with care and love. One can only hope that this time of monumental sadness in the world will be over so that love and happiness can blossom again.

I am hopeful, but impatient.

About Richard Koerner

Sixty something, father, papi, educator, organizer, Francophile, traveler, amateur photographer, gardener, cyclist, kayaker, calligrapher, cinephile, reader, and overall renaissance type human being.
This entry was posted in Confinement, Covid-19, Life in general, Thoughts and philosophy. Bookmark the permalink.

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