66 bar falls 30.06 6mph NE dew-point 38 Beltane, cloudy
Waning Gibbous Hare Moon
The grocery store on Saturday morning of Memorial Day weekend, quiet. I suppose all those up norther’s have abandoned the first home for the second. Made for an easy trip through the check out lane. Though not purchasing much, I thought, I still rang up $155. Surprised me.
Some shrimp, a walleye fillet, milk, bread, snacks, some fruit (that $10 bag of cherries maybe not such a wise purchase), butter, turkey for the dogs. That’s about it. Combine that with the $42 it took me to fill up the Celica, around 11 gallons, and you can feel the pincers of rising commodity prices clamp down.
Kate and I can afford it, don’t get me wrong, but I’m thinking about the person who checked me out at Festival, who put the items in the bags, theWalmart employee, the person who works in the convenience store, janitors and other back of the shop employees we rarely see. Or, the unemployed. Or, the person whose income each month comes fixed by an annuity, social security, a meager pension. Consider a person making 30-40,000 dollars a year. With two or three kids. A mortgage and a commute. Thank you free market capitalism. Why did they get the boat with holes?
Planted a couple of ferns in the shade garden underneath the river birch, then went over to the second tier, where I began a shade garden 3 years ago. Gophers have eaten much of the hosta and the daylillies, survivors from my attempt to clear them out back then have overgrown a lot of the rest. I’ve decided to treat daylilies in this half moon shaped garden as weeds. I’m moving them to other places, places where their wonderfully dogged lifestyle will help us rather than get in the way. Any that grow from tubers left behind, though. Out they go.
Spent 45 or minutes or so writing on Superior Wolf, too. Keeps on coming.
