I’m just sitting here watching my watering system do its thing. The plants seem to be responding well to a daily 20 minutes of rain. They seem happy to get it and are bright and vigorous. Some burnt leaves. Definitely some leaf burn.

But like, so far so good, right? Because I believe that I am creating a nicer environment with this clean water urination system. I’m playing God like Polyphia.

So here’s the situation. I’m walking around on my broken leg trying to get my watering done. I’m cursing the ground I’m hobbling on but I have perseverance. I do my job.

And then I came back inside because I’ve got to clean up the kitchen and do some cooking. And I sat and I looked out the window with my best girl. I don’t know if you remember her but she’s my musical partner and has been for so many years. Today she was telling me how much she missed me and how I haven’t touched her in a long time.

We quietly looked out the window together and watched the quiet military machine gun action of our love machine. It was manna from heaven and the plants were just saying thank you. The plants really didn’t need any more animal by-products, thank you very much. They appreciate the vitamin rush for all that it does but enough. They just like getting some fresh water everyday because it just doesn’t happen here anymore. I won’t burden you with those details. Check back in the files a little ways and you’ll find it.

We are looking for an editor by the way.

So we were staring out the window and I was complaining but I needed a sign that things maybe are going to get better. That’s the thing that has me down. There is never any sign that there’s hope. We are just never going to stop killing.

And then it happened.

I’m going to throw the word miracle up in the air and then I’m going to smack it with my black Birch bat as hard as I can and see how far that goes. It just started raining right there in that moment. I got to turn the electricity off.

For a bit.

Actually, it was like a drum solo amidst a natural symphony. I have all kinds of surfaces near my kitchen and when it rains, each of them has its own timbre as the rain drops splash against them. Crazy mad drum solos. Hundreds of drummers all doing their thing. Crazy patterns. Natural patterns.

And then comes that sweet ozone smell and the sounds of thunder in the distance. God lives here at least in this moment.

So it wasn’t really enough rain. I’m going to have to start up my machine again and go back to feeding my land a little water. And no matter how big of a sign I apparently have just received, we humans are devious fucks. We find ways to break everything. We never just let things be.

I’m really happy for the progress of my young plants. Even the gardens that were planted with humor are now places of life where my food is growing. I am grateful to the trees that offer a wind break for the lower gardens. Thank you for sheltering our food and our young trees. So many apple trees. Just apple tree after apple tree.

The 25 hatchlings returned to the land as promised for the walnut tree who has fed us all winter are receiving water everyday as well as our three sisters and pickle Garden! As a by-product of agreeing to water the border to make it as green as humanly possible, the back part of the property agrees that the watering helps as well.

For the scientists out there, I have noticed an incredible darwinistic change to the juke population. It seems the ones that were easy to kill and find were the very slow ones. Snap, crackle, pop and soon there weren’t anymore of them. After this, there were a few straggler teenagers fornicating on my potato plants. Unfortunately, the boyfriend was wrong. Everything was not going to be okay. It was a bad decision.

A simple popping of a pimple later, we now have some sportsmen. They are not lazy like the other ones. They’ve learned to be stealthy and quick. Or, they have adapted to me. The new bugs are agile and fast. They do not cling to the potato plant like they’re slow alcoholic forefathers. These guys will drop and roll and die for cover with every last one of their little legs digging for the precious gift of life to remain with them. These are not the idiots. These jukes are the survivors.

Not to be too sinister but, even if we do nothing for a day, we can just take out the nursery as easily as the hatchery. Maybe not all of the little bastards, but they will not multiply well. This war is to harvest time.

And that’s what I’m saying. This is a war. This is a war and the first thing you need in a war is a flag. I think it’s time we start flying flags around here. On my clothes line, I have a shirt that’s never been worn and I think I’m going to hang it on my clothes line near the road facing towards my neighbors house or anyone else who drives up this motherfucking road in a car. It’s a black shirt with the word vegan printed on the front.

And here in my electronic Garden, our new very quiet electronic Garden that is currently going to some more wicked drum beats. God says he’s not going to let me down today. Today, she’s going to do her job. I don’t know. We’ll see. But as of the moment, I believe.

So here’s the flag. I think it’s a good one because it’s complex and simple at the same time.

For some reason, I just can’t get Boston out of my head. So, if you are awear of what this sounds like, I like JFK’s voice. The final words are his.

I say this is our future. Shure it’s hard, but it’s worth it. Lu San says that I am a good soldier but a bad gardener. We talk a lot about the necessity of steel for use in gardening. I say that I am the steel. Only by hand.

Listen, this is all I know and I’ll tell you the truth right from the source. It feels good when God gives you a kiss and tells you she loves you. It’s all so sobering to be reminded that nobody allows God to speak despite all of their claims for religious self-righteousness. But at the same time, if I remember such things well, god/nature is a woman. That’s the damnedest thing about nature. Almost all of it is just female.

Oh baby, God smells nice after a rain. I think however I have to talk to that one last drummer who doesn’t want to stop practicing. We might have to have a talk about music. Oh crap. That’s the empty water bucket. There hasn’t been enough rain to make it a tender splash. It’s just a dull thump telling us how dry it really is. And I’m saying that the plants notice this too.

We are so fucked.