Sunday, April 26, 2026

Web Log Weekender for 4.24-25.26

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that I've given up the blog and gone to the lake. So far I've not done that...but at some point I will.

Animals

"Birdsong is something that can be a vital part of your well-being for years without you noticing or appreciating it, like having intact internal organs."



Shared by Neithan Hador on the Mirror. Google says the picture was posted on Facebook, and warns that although any orphan chicks you adopt from Tractor Supply will probably enjoy snuggling under a feather duster, you have to watch to make sure they don't pull the feathers apart or pull the duster down on themselves, which could result in injuries.

Frugality

How NOT to set up a wood stove.


Lens says this one's been floating around the Internet for a long time, found on Facebook and even on Etsy (to illustrate an ad for a wood stove). In this case the source is thought to be known. According to the plagiarism-ware Lens has started shoving in front of the links, the photo was taken "by John Collier for the Farm Security Administration" in the 1940s and features Mrs. Boris Komorosky of Hartford, Connecticut, in her cozy-looking but unsustainable kitchen. I'm inclined to believe that this is accurate because "Mrs. Boris Komorosky" doesn't sound like a screen name.

* The stove needs a metal "pad" or "mat" under it to protect that wood floor.

* The stove should stand away from the walls, to prevent fires.

* That upholstered sofa should be at least as far from the stove as the cane-bottom chair. 

* And that light-colored wallpaper is going to look dreadful before springtime. Rooms with wood-burning stoves or fireplaces should have washable walls.

Men's Issues 

This is soooo wrong. Some people think the big political divide these days is between those who want to prop up the old, unsustainable Social Security scheme by bringing in immigrants, and those who want to prop up the old, unsustainable Social Security scheme by having too many babies. We can't afford either of those bad alternatives. We have to make plans for our old age that allow for the human population to shrink back to sustainable levels. We have to celebrate the fact that many young people aren't even waiting to have children, but ruling out the option. We have to want fewer and better, in the sense of healthier, grandchildren. 

Also wrong: the myth that, "biologically," if men hadn't done the engineering we'd still be living in caves. Only in a few human cultural groups have men done the engineering. In cultures where advanced architecture and mechanical science have existed, a minority of women have done a minority of the engineering. Most women who are free to cultivate their own talents have talents for other things, and women whose talents are for engineering have often been discriminated against, so it's remarkable that women have, nonetheless, built and designed things--houses, bridges, and machines. If men hadn't done the engineering, the things humans build to make our lives easier would probably be smaller, easier to manage (more rondavels, fewer skyscrapers), more slowly and thoughtfully worked out, and more sustainable. Male hyperactivity has blasted and zoomed further forward at a time, and often needed to take several steps back. Male hyperactivity has led to wars...without it, Europe might have achieved a civilized democracy, somewhere, by now.

And, for individual women, most disastrously wrong: Being chosen by a good woman to be a father has a stabilizing effect on some men, but it also turns mostly harmless slacker-boys into Deadbeat Dads. Once they're out of diapers, as the saying goes, nobody can change them. A man who already is stable, reliable, honest, loyal, and self-disciplined may be improved by marriage; a man who is impulsive, emotional, and self-centered will be totally "unmanned" by it, and run away--if not from the birth process, certainly from a teething baby. 

A better guide might be: Any masculinity that seriously considers doing what makes babies outside of marriage, or before the couple have saved enough money to afford the baby, or after the couple already have a baby, is toxic. A man whose attitude toward sex is irresponsible and irreverent needs celibacy, sometimes years of celibacy, and he may never mature into a responsible husband and father. The purpose of dating is to identify men who can make plans and stick to them, and, that done, identify men who need to hear the words "stop" or "no" more than once. If he's not on time for a date, no more dates for him. If he wants "more" demonstrations of affection, it's time to step back, blow him a goodbye kiss, and let him work on his relationship with himself.

If he scores high on reliability and self-control, he might be worth keeping. Jamie Wilson is right about one thing. A good man is one of the wonders of nature. Borders, in fact, on being a miracle.


Music 

One of the blog posts I read over the weekend explains why Seventh-Day Adventists love Handel's Messiah so. It quotes all their favorite Bible verses! 



From Handel I didn't dive directly into pop music--too much contrast--but eventually I did listen to this authentic 1974 digitized version of the background music that was piped into many stores in the 1970s. The person who shared it thought it sounded spooky. I think one particular tune sounds depressed, but I hear it as bland music, generally...


Then in the 1980s and 1990s some of us were interested in composing new "fusions" of traditional and original music, for contemporary or antique or electronic instruments, preferably a mix of all three. This set of tubular bells tunes is heavy on the contemporary side, but without putting the physical tubes up against someone's head before striking them, it's hard to go too far wrong with tubular bells.


Edward Elgar.


Horse.


Tom Petty.



Beethoven...but if you watch the video, the man appears to be playing the piano for a friendly elephant. I think it's real. If it's a computer simulation, it's well done.


Avishai Cohen.



Shmuel Perdnik. The words are Hebrew and, according to LyricsTranslate.com, they mean:

"I shall await the LORD,

I shall entreat his favor,
I shall ask Him
to grant my tongue eloquence.

I shall await the LORD,
I shall entreat his favor, ay ay ay
I shall ask Him
to grant my tongue eloquence.

In the midst of the congregated nation
I shall sing of His strength;
I shall burst out in joyous melodies
for his works.

In the midst of the congregated nation
I shall sing of His strength;
I shall burst out in joyous melodies
for his works.

(X3)
The thoughts in man's heart are his to arrange,
but the tongue's eloquence comes from the Lord.
O LORD, open my lips,
so that my mouth may declare Your praise.

I shall await the LORD,
I shall entreat his favor,
I shall ask Him
to grant my tongue eloquence."



Joshua Aaron. This is said to be a Hebrew version of the example prayer Jesus gave His disciples, "the Lord's Prayer." The original prayer was probably spoken in Aramaic, but was transcribed in Greek--in both cases the vernacular languages His mostly working-class disciples spoke on the street, not the classical Hebrew some of them learned at school. But if Jesus were here today, can anyone doubt that He would speak modern Hebrew?


Neil Finn.


Tom Goux.


Leonard Bernstein.


40 Fingers.


America. (Many nominations for Dave Barry's Book of Bad Songs. Some people love it. I thought the tune was catchy enough to suspend judgment until I found an official statement whether the song is or is not about heroin, the "horse" that carries addicts into their dreams that start out so nice and then become nightmares. The writer's official statement is that it's about open-air meditation. Visions induced by desert conditions? Possible.)



The Stranglers' hard rock version of Patsy Kline's "Walk On By."


The Cars.


The Who.


John Anderson.


New York 

"Dirty Yankees" is acquiring a new meaning, we are told. The phrase used to refer to people who sewed their long woolen underwear up tight around the neck in September and left whatever remained of it on until Memorial Day. (Southerners tidied our graves. Northerners sent their underwear out to be burned while they howled and shivered through their first, some said their only, bath of the year.) I don't know. Maybe those people really existed at some place and time. New York State does regularly log the coldest temperatures in the 48 contiguous States.

But New York City, it seems, now has hordes of homeless people.

Most of Washington's homeless weren't as dirty as you might think. Trying not to be noticed as homeless made them careful. The city's full of stores, restaurants, libraries, gas stations, places where people can nip in and use the conveniences. Jars with tight-sealing screw-on lids made sleeping areas hard to find. 

In New York, it seems, the homeless are loud and in-your-face. Mayor Mamdani, chortles Joe Jackson, has put the P P in the Big Apple. Citations for public urination are forming a real crime wave.


Parenting


Google says: "The image was taken in St Petersburg, Florida, and was published in the St Petersburg Times in May 1969, featuring Mrs. T.R. Cronin. The photographer, Ricardo Ferro, titled the image "Is This Your Litter, Lady?""

Before people go into "how could she" mode, consider: Baby is at the age where Baby likes practicing standing up while bracing against things. Baby could be in an expensive "baby walker" frame that wouldn't move easily on grass, but instead Baby is in what happens to be available, free of charge, and to fit perfectly. This did not become a fad because the trend of the time was to attach litter baskets to posts sunk deep in the ground, to stop them blowing into windows in hurricanes, or being stolen... I've not seen one of those freestanding baskets in years. But when they were clean and empty they were pretty good frames for babies to practice standing up in. 

Note Baby's face...concentrating, learning, not protesting. If Baby had been turned toward Mrs. Cronin, yelling and waving to be let out and picked up, she would have picked Baby up or faced unpleasant social consequences. But Baby likes being where and doing what Baby is.

When one of you Nephews was a few months older than that infant, walking easily but not always understanding where you weren't supposed to walk, you had a "backpack." Your big brother had a backpack to carry his books to school, and you had one with strings attached to lead your mother, aunt, and grandmother all over town. As long as you stuck to public footpaths and walkways you were leading. When we balked and became hard to lead was when you started to walk out into traffic, or onto someone's property. 

You enjoyed using your backpack on walks with us, I'm glad to say, even after foolish people tried to tell you that you were "on a leash like a dog." I suppose, technically, a toddler harness does work like a leash for a dog...and so? How bad is that?

Napowrimo 26: Climate Change

The National Poetry Writing Month challenge for today was to write a poem about writing poetry. 

I stand by the one I wrote more than seven years ago...

"
Some poetry’s bad, Heaven knows,
Yet all poetry’s different from prose.
Bad Poetry’s bound
To patterns of sound
(Though these may not accord quite with those).

It roams through every dialect on Earth,
Stretches rhythms for all that they’re worth,
Chooses subjects prosaic,
Becomes a mosaic
Of thoughts Good Poems never give birth.

What Bad Poetry never will do
Is claim, “I’m so much wiser than you,
If you say I’m not great,
Yourself you denigrate”—
Bad Poetry’s honest and true.

It will freely admit that it’s Bad.
Grandiosity it’s never had.
If it chance to beguile
You into a slight smile,
It may open your mind just a tad.

(Copyright Ⓒ Priscilla King, 2018. Used by permission 😊 )

But the point is to write a new poem each day, so I found an alternative list that invited poems about "loneliness and other impossible situations," "a situation that seems impossible but that you could solve if you wanted to." 

There are situations that are difficult to solve satisfactorily, that could be solved quickly in a way that would probably create worse problems than the original situation. 

Voting for a candidate you don't like personally who's not likely to be of much use on any of the issues that matter to you, who was running against a candidate you don't like personally who's not likely to be of much use on any of the issues that matter to you and who also wants to join other people's war

(That's bad enough, so let the majority of Americans who've been in this plight since 2024 consider: being appointed to office by a candidate nobody likes personally, who's not letting you do what your constituent base want you to do, who disagrees with you on several political issues and is probably trying to get you to resign, while you have a personal agenda that requires you to stay where you are.)

Staying with a job that doesn't pay well, but that you enjoy, instead of switching to a job that you'd hate, that wouldn't pay well either, and that you probably wouldn't keep because the reason why the job's open is that the company has hired and fired thirty-eight people for the job already and it's still April.

I live where I want to live. I do many of the things I've always wanted to do. I've not been able to do some other things I've always wanted to do because I am, as my home is, under attack. I have, as my whole neighborhood has, a personal enemy--a land coveter who doesn't even have the fortitude to make offers that would be turned down, who sneaks around trying to ruin people's enjoyment of good land in what used to be a Christian community. After the cat poisoning episode a young man, allegedly a son from what may have been an earlier marriage in another State, was supposed to be watching this Bad Neighbor. Supposedly he's been staying on the other side of the hill and doing nothing worse than spraying poison into the air--not to "protect crops" (he's not planted a crop, nor claimed ownership of a cow, for years) but to make as many neighbors feel as unpleasant as possible. Actually, of course, he slowed down for a season and then resumed the harassment, I think because at this point in his life it's become what he does, who he is...he has to know he's not going to get any more real estate in this neighborhood. And at least he's lost the ability to shoot small animals and leave them in the road. But nasty people never get too old to spread the kind of crazy talk that fascinates people who don't have enough in the way of lives. Rodents don't travel in groups of half a dozen mixed mice and rats of different species, to invade a house that doesn't offer them even water, without some human help; and dumping rodents into basements has been one of this Bad Neighbor's favorite pranks for at least thirty years. And the Cat Sanctuary had rodents in mixed half-dozens this winter; I caught two of different species in one trap, one night. Giving the Bad Neighbor what he wants might solve the problem of being harassed by him, but would certainly create enough other problems that are even worse that it's not a "solution" some of us can even consider.

And then there are public problems, everybody's problems, some of which are soluble if people would just deal with the solutions...

Climate change. It's primarily local. We need leadership,
Of course we do, but not the kind for which globalists clamor.
Leadership by example, we need. Taking the power trip
Out of government, let the elected wield trowel, shovel, hammer.
Let them walk to work every day; let them meet with the electorate
In the road. Let the pavement break up and the roads go to grass.
Cars are good, for the frail and pathetic whose stiff old bones hesitate
To walk on the ground. For the vigorous, let the fad pass.
Let the telecommute be the norm for white-collar employment.
Let the walk to the market become the place where people meet.
Let it be de rigueur, socially, to walk and show enjoyment
Of the flowers and butterflies we notice while on our feet.
It's a hard sell, I know, but it would cool down, without a fight,
Even cities where people cling to their cars as to a right.

Book Review: A Journey of Faith

Title: A Journey of Faith

Author: Sylvia Price

Date: 2025

Quote: "Dean will be staying here at the inn for two weeks."

Melinda was born and brought up Amish. Most people in the Eastern States and Canada have at least heard of the Amish denomination as the most conspicuous of American Protestant church groups. They preserve a close-knit community by pooling their resources and practicing a strict rule of frugality that goes back to eighteenth-century Germany. Oldfashioned clothes, horse-drawn buggies, and houses without electric lights identify the Amish. Tourists try to photograph them, and Amish people traditionally turn their heads away because their rule of modesty discourages posing for pictures, but they trade with tourists willingly enough, selling farm produce and home crafts. They are known for raising good produce and making good quilts, furniture, and other home crafts they sell. Nearly all Amish people are of working-class German origins with very little crossbreding with any other European tribe; many still speak "Pennsylvania German" in their home. 

("Pennsylvania German" dialect can still be understood, with varying degrees of difficulty, by people who grew up in modern German. The Pennsylvania German words used in this novelette are kept to a minimum and sound similar in English, modern German, or Pennsylvania German, but they're spelled phonetically rather than like their modern German equivalents.) 

Why do most Amish youth choose to be baptized into their parents' church? It's not obligatory. In fact they traditionally get about a year of Rumspringe, "running around," before they're asked to decide to join the church or move out into the non-Amish world. They usually opt to stay with their friends and relatives, even though, by now, the pool of potential mates is shrinking.

Amish people cannot marry non-Amish people and stay in the church. If they leave the church, they are supposed to be shunned by the Amish community. The community could use a bit of fresh DNA but the only way their church's rule allows them to get it is in the very rare case when a non-Amish person chooses to be bound by all of the rules, from radical nonviolence to wearing traditional German peasant clothes. (Not the sometimes colorful and extravagant festival costumes that were chosen to identify different towns, back in German, but the plain, drab work clothes that haven't changed all that much in going on four hundred years.) Although the Mennonites, Brethren, Hutterites, Bruderhof, and more distantly the Quakers are "Peace Churches" that formed during the same period of religious reformation as the Amish church did, Amish people don't marry members of those more liberal denominations. 

I looked this up, after reading the novel. I wanted to know. Years ago, when my brother's class had to write research papers about the Amish (more or less like the fictional class in https://priscillaking.blogspot.com/2013/06/the-terrible-term-paper.html ), a question none of our sources answered was whether the Amish ever have accepted a convert. It's almost  unheard-of for anyone to want to join the Amish. It requires learning a new language for pity's sake. (Even to people from Germany, Pennsylvania German is a new language.) So nobody mentioned whether it had ever happened. Google now reports that it is possible, and has happened, but it is extremely rare. Nobody would join the Amish after spending two weeks at an Amish bed-and-breakfast, however charming. 

Though easy to trade with, the Amish are, according to their rule, difficult to get to know personally. They'll listen to specifications and tell you all about their wares, but they're not supposed to make friends outside the church. 

So in this novel we're supposed to believe that a good Amish girl like Melinda, whose new-adult energy is committed to following the rules and fulfilling her obligations to her community, is going to hang out talking to a non-Amish man called Dean Dominguez for two weeks? Letting herself be tempted to put her quilts on a web site? And her family are going to let her? 

And Dean Dominguez is going to decide he wants to be Amish?

I'm sorry. My suspension of disbelief broke down. This is a sweet romance, and something like it may  even have happened in the Canadian Mennonite group Price knows; a rogue Amish person and sympathetic non-Amish person might compromise and join the Mennonite church. (Mennonites traditionally dress almost like Amish people, with subtle variations for easy group identification, but their rules don't demand quite as much frugality--they can go to college and use computers. Also, Mennonites in the US and Canada usually speak English at home.) But it's not something that's supposed to happen in the Amish church. In a longer story that unfolded over a longer time frame I could believe Dean and Melinda could become an Amish couple, but in two weeks... ?????

Let's just say that the "happy ending" of this romance promises some turbulence ahead. 

Napowrimo 25: Mist

The National Poetry Writing Month Challenge for the 25th of April asks for poems that " use at least three metaphors for a single thing, include an exclamation, ruminate on the definition of a word, and come back in the closing line to the image or idea with which you opened the poem".

I had to sleep on it.

The mist that hangs above the long-dry land:
Sail of a ship still anchored out at sea,
Bridegroom who reaches out to shake bride's hand
Retiring to his room on wedding night,
Green fruit that never ripens on a tree.
Alas that green land reaches such a plight!
The mist still hangs above the long-dry land.

Friday, April 24, 2026

Bad Poetry: Desserts

This post combines the prompt at Napowrimo.net ("something magical and strange that happens at night, and could be a dream, but feels lifelike") and the one at Poets & Storytellers United ("something about desserts, or just desserts"). The dream is one I really had. The rest of the story also happened, but later.

In a dream I held out a plate to take
A slice of the very most fanciful cake
Ever. Little beads of sugar ran round and round,
Colored or gilt. The top was a mound
Of icing and candies. "Vanilla?" I said,
Taking a bite. "Why--it's just cold cornbread!"

I went to the kitchen, and there I made
A salad of fresh fruit in circles arrayed:
Green grapes and tangerine, strawberry slices,
June apple, banana, and raspberries; spices
Not needed, just a few squeezes of lemon
And sprinkle of sugar to please all the women

Expected for luncheon. And please them it did.
It pleased my palate, too. Only one dear old kid
Wanted no fruit but cookies just out of a box.
This was good; it left just enough. Fruit salad rocks.
None of it was left over. I thought I could eat
The whole thing by myself, but I'm glad, now, they beat

Me to that salad's finish. Some food treats are best
Enjoyed when there's just enough for all the rest
And those six perfect bites give delight that's unique,
Not compared with the leftovers eaten all week.
That way memories of the best dessert you ever made
Stay piquant and perfect, and never do fade.


Photo from Google, where it's credited to Natasha's Kitchen. Google has dozens of photos of fruit salads that aren't mine...enough to inspire any cook, whatever may be in the kitchen. Any good fresh unsprayed fruits, alone or together, are likely to become a great, memorable summer dessert.

Book Review: El Principio de Dilbert

Book Title: El Principio de Dilbert

Original Title: The Dilbert Principle

Author: Scott Adams

Translator: J.M. Pomares

Publisher: Granica

Date: 1997 (Spanish), 1996 (English)

Length: 338 pages

Illustrations: cartoons by the author

ISBN: 8475777821

Quote: "Los trabajadores mas ineficientes son trasladados sistematicamente alli donde pueden causar menos dano: la direccion de la empresa."

In theory the Spanish edition ought to be reviewed in Spanish, as on Amazon it is, but out of respect to the Spanish language, as well as the English-speaking readers, I'm writing this blog in English. Readers whose first language is Spanish are, however, invited to advertise their translation skills by translating any blog posts they consider worth the trouble.

The Peter Principle stated that workers are promoted to their level of incompetence. The Dilbert Principle (in English) stated that incompetent workers are promoted to the place where they can do most harm: management.

The statement was made, of course, by what a Granica employee describes on Amazon as "the classic American story of an introvert engineer and his megalomaniac dog." (Actually, in the bizarre reality of the cartoon series, Dogbert does own the company; that's why the pointy-haired jerk can't fire Wally, Alice, and Dilbert.)

Beyond the middle-aged-boy-and-his-dog motif, the popularity of the Dilbert series comes from its interactive element: the cartoons illustrate complaints real office workers e-mailed to Scott Adams about real office policies and politics. The book isn't just a collection of cartoons, although most pages include one or more cartoons. The book also includes lots of e-mails, edited for brevity and privacy, but more or less in the correspondents' own words.

Drawings and e-mails are connected by Adams' philosophical reflections, which are as snarky and funny in Spanish as they were in English. All people are stupid--some times, about some things. This stupidity is a source of wealth for satirists. At the end of the book Adams does, however, offer the "F5 conceptual model" for businesses that want to minimize corporate stupidity; F5 stands for "fuera a las 5" (out of the office by 5 p.m.). Toward this goal, the first heading is "APARTARSE DEL CAMINO" (get out of the way--don't bother with policies that dictate conformity, and don't try to organize creativity). So what can the manager do? Fire jerks, teach efficiency by example, and try to ensure that everybody learns something every day.

Introverts have to love the Dilbert series...it shows how annoying the "people persons" (extroverts) some companies have tried to promote really are, to the people who are worth their salaries. For this reason alone, El Principio de Dilbert would be warmly recommended even if it weren't also (a) instructive and (b) hilarious.

Whether your first language is English or Spanish, this book is easy to read without continual reference to the other copy or to the dictionary. Business vocabulary words in both languages are almost identical...and reading this book bilingually is a painless way to learn them. Try to find a place where chortling won't distract others. This book might not be considered ideal for reading in an actual cubicle.

Web Log for 4.23.26

What's left of it. I've  been writing all day, making up for lost time. Checking the'Net at last at 6 p.m...Id and then the computer became fractious. Microsoft is not legally forbidden to annoy people by "rolling out updates" the minute the ideas cross their twitchy little micro-brains, then realizing that these "updates" contained errors and "rolling out" more interference with people's use of their own property until they think they've got it right. 

We need a law. Call it the Internet Triage Law:

1. "First-party input" comes from the owner(s) through the computer keyboard. It must always be obeyed instantly. If it's not what the owners wanted, that's the owners' problem.

2. "Second-party input" comes from sites specifically recognized by keyboard commands, but not their sponsor organizations, and must be allowed to transmit responses to the computer owners' messages. Second-party input would include web searches, forums, comments, posting to hosted blog sites, videos, etc.

3. "Third-party input" comes from anyone else, including the sponsor organizations of sites computer owners visit and interact with. (The specific Blogspot blog you visit would be a second party; Google would be a third party.) Third-party input is suspect because it comes from a third party and must never be allowed to interrupt computer owners' use of their computers. Ideally it would be held for 24 hours of automatic scanning by the FCC to identify anything that might compromise the use of a computer, such as spyware. No third party should be able to see anything we type that is not visible to the general public without producing verification of payment of a minimum of 10 cents per word seen or $5 per picture seen.

'The louder the Microgoons bray that that's impossible, the faster they need to be held accountable for getting it into effect. 

Environmental  

This would not be primarily Glyphosate Awareness. Glyphosate breaks down pretty fast in water. Some of its residues could be sucked up into clouds and redistributed as rain, but they would soon cease to be be glyphosate. Some other "pesticides" are more durable and might recirculate endlessly through nature's cleaning system...


Music 

(If nothing else, this section does show how many pages I visited and didn't feel a need to share...a music video, then a plain text link, alternating on and on.)

The Ventures.


The Lovin' Spoonful.


Steely Dan.


Gerry Rafferty.


Tom Petty



Seba Campos.


Led Zeppelin. I would not have listened, much less danced, to a recording like this when it was new. It took years of wear and tear to reduce my hearing to a level where I can enjoy it.


Kiss. Note that among baby-boomers this song is now good for rueful laughs about when and how we discovered the limits to our crazy teenage energy, but when the song was new even teenagers thought it was terrible because some people really did take drugs and give themselves serious brain damage...


Kids I knew would have been less hypersensitized to this one, although our parents wouldn't have been. Some of my schoolmates developed real drug addictions, but those of us who had had premarital sex and not become premature parents all said they could do without any more sex for a long while. 


Thelonius Monk.


Avishai Cohen.



REM. Much mentioned in Dave Barry's Book of Bad Songs. Hoot! I thought the Weavers actually made it sound pretty good, but this version....


Peter, Paul, & Mary.


Wes Montgomery.


Toto.

Thursday, April 23, 2026

Napowrimo 23: Cardinals Return to Privet Hedge

Finally catching up with a National Poetry Writing Month Challenge prompt on the intended day...Today's prompt dared poets to write a villanelle that ends with a question.


(Photo from Google, which credits Gardening Know How: male and female cardinal in privet bush. Cardinals' sex roles are less strongly stereotyped than some birds'. Males are much more colorful and conspicuous, but females show some color when they want to. Males are much noisier, but both sexes sing, often in duets. They mate for life, and both parents rear the young.)

Cardinalis virginiensis, the Cardinal bird, lived in Virginia before privet (Ligustrum spp.) was introduced. But the birds became year-round residents rather than summer visitors as privet hedges became common. They are unmistakably attracted to privet berries, which most species, including humans, can't eat. Many cardinals still winter in Central America, where they eat other berries (and compete with farmers), but the birds continue to bring "cheer" and be "pretty birdies" in North America where their territory includes a privet bush that holds on to its berries until spring, or until cardinals eat them, whichever comes first. Privet does not actually spread much, nor is it difficult to control its spread from seeds and roots in your yard. What makes privet so invasive is that cardinals and a few other native birds and mice drop its seeds wherever they fly...and, where privet has spread, cardinals have followed. At one time naturalists actually used Richmondena as a name for the birds because Richmond was as far north as they would go. Now these fruit-loving, weather-tolerant birds live in New Brunswick.

Some people hate privet. They have no reason to hate it; the bushes are hardy enough to choke out some other plants but, if you'd rather have the other plants, all you have to do is cut the privet sprouts down close to the ground; the root may die right then and there, or it may oblige you by sending out another rhizome and sprouting somewhere else, and if that still doesn't suit you, you can cut those sprouts too. It's easy. Privet sprouts are slim little things you can cut with garden shears.  Privet trimmings are good for toasting marshmallows over a fire; they're too sappy to ignite while a marshmallow is toasting and thin enough to dry out and burn well after the marshmallow is cooked.

Some troll even expressed a wish that Mark Gelbart would breathe deeply of privet blossoms and choke on allergic reactions. This is just pathetic. Nobody's allergic to privet blossoms. They release an intense, sweet, delicious odor for a few evenings in May and do no harm whatsoever. People who have allergy reactions in May need to investigate the "pesticides" being sprayed on nearby gardens. Lots of people have allergy-type reactions to glyphosate. Almost everybody has some respiratory system reaction to dicamba. Some other "pesticides" are known to trigger really violent coughing and sneezing fits. But a person who sneezes while passing a privet hedge is a person whose allergies, probably to chemicals, have been aggravated to the point of being "allergic to" every kind of dust and pollen on Earth; such a person should try to find a place to stay indoors and recover.

Sadly, perhaps, privet has a lifespan. Although it does not attract insect predators and the few American animals who can eat it actually propagate it, privet is vulnerable to infection by fungi and nematodes. In a hundred years or so a stand of privet is likely to die out naturally. Cardinals and other songbirds will probably keep the species alive, but not in the same place...however useful privet may be in the places where it's been planted, to control soil erosion and build up soil that can support native plants.

I love my privet hedges because, during the fifty-one weeks of each year when privet is not bearing sweet-smelling white flowers, it "blooms" with cardinals. How can anyone not love a bird that bobs around the windows, in the dead of winter, singing "Cheer! Cheer! Cheer!" Brave flying flowers, that I could gallant it like you and be as little vain...

Brave birds who nest among privet's blossoms white,
Do you spread north because of heat's increase?
Do you count humans as a boon or blight?

When winter reminds us of our life's twilight
Your calls of "cheer" and "pretty birdy" please,
Brave birds who nest among privet's blossoms white.

Other birds, including chickens, like a bite 
Of privet berries dropped among plants and trees.
To you, are humans' chickens boon or blight?

I love the scent of privet's blossoms white
Mixed in with violets, roses, poplar trees,
Brave birds who spread the privet's blossoms white.

In summers when heat beats as if for spite
But no more than it's done for centuries,
We humans ask: have we been boon or blight

To this green planet where we seek the Light
For so few days before our sure demise.
Brave birds who nest among privet's blossoms white,
Do you count humans as a boon or blight?