It’s springtime in Phoenix, when every ‘Zonie should feel proud to intone the most fundamentally American words that can ever be uttered: “Git offa my land!”
It’s springtime here in Phoenix, mid-seventies every day. That lighter green stuff is pollen, richly redolent with the sticky scent of vegetable love. There were stiff breezes on Saturday, and that pollen came cascading to the ground like green snow.
I love this house, this land, this home. I’d hate to lose it. Not so easy to hang onto it, lately, but it’s very much worth it to me. “Beloved over all,” says Kipling, and I’ll defend it with everything I have within me.Related posts:
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