Friday, May 16, 2008

Iris thief, beware

Angus and the Iris. He is not the thief: he is only interested in drinking the water in the vase.


In a different life, I'd probably do more, and say less. Probably. I don't really know for sure, but it seems like a fine idea right now. It's not that I have regrets about my life, or the way it is, but there are times, I dunno, I guess I wish I were less sane, and more athletic. I'd probably climb those water towers on Olden Avenue, taking them from the Polish, or the Russians, or the Bloods, or whoever has tagged them now, and I'd claim them for myself. I really am a good person, and I don't have a problem with our laws, and I really dislike graffiti, but there's something about those water towers that's been calling me. I want to climb. Yep, it's idiotic and ridiculous to make the climb with a can of paint, and tell the world, "I was here," but it's brave, all the same. Maybe it's a little like climbing Everest. Maybe?

Similarly, if I had that courage, maybe I'd spend more time in my shrubs, hopping out to frighten anyone who feels either the lack of regard for my flora and stomps it, or that sense of entitlement to take it away for themselves. All of this comes about because when we moved here four years ago, I brought my irises from our old place, and for whatever reason (transplant trauma, maybe?) they have not been the best bloomers. The following year, my mother divided her iris beds, and gave me bags and bags of them, and they, too, have not been very prolific.

Until this year, that is. I'm still a long way away from a large swath of gorgeous bearded irises, but most of the ones we planted here — kind of willy-nilly — have finally bloomed this year, and it's been really satisfying. And, to my surprise, many of them are not purple: there are tea colored ones with burgundy highlights, and yellow ones, and pure white ones, all with fuzzy yellow tongues. I've been so happy about these flowers: our hard work has finally paid off, and, also, I kinda feel that the universe owes us some small favors, and it's about time those irises bloomed.

So, to the iris thief who came by the other night with some kind of cutting implement (which indicates, what? premeditation or an unstable personality, or both?) and removed two of my lovely iris blooms from my side yard, you are lucky that I am generally content to sit on my ass and talk. Or write. However, because you also dislodged a section of my decorative fencing while reaching in for those flowers, and didn't even have the decency to return it to rights (and I would have thought someone interested in flowers might have a decent side, even if you are, ultimately, still a thief), I am THIS CLOSE to hanging out in my shrubs after all, with a hose, and if you dare return, I'd love to provide you with one hell of a power wash.

For the record, I'd also hose off anyone who drives by with the music too loud, or too often, or on an illegal off-road vehicle, or in a car that is purposely altered to be loud. I'd get the speeders and the people who blow the stop sign, too. I might hose off the random white people who come through my neighborhood, because I know what you're really up to, and none of it is good. If I see anyone walking unsterilized pit bulls with or without leashes, I'll probably get you too. Believe me, my motivation is noble vigilanteism, but I suspect the power of the hose might be intoxicating, so just for kicks, I might get the crazy guy across the street, in that "accidentally but on purpose" kind of way, because his meltdowns are just THAT fantastic.

Just as soon as I get down from the water tower, all of you above-mentioned people are in for it.

Here are some of my irises. You can see why people would want them. Other than waiting nearly 4 years for them to bloom, irises just aren't hard to tend, so thieves, just plant your own, for crying out loud.




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