I parked my rig at work and noticed these beautiful blooms on an otherwise ignored hedge.
The last signs of an old homestead torn down a few years ago. The corner post and barbed wire don’t support anything now…
0730 hrs, the clock ticks loud now…the room is silent, the sheets rolled up. The scene of the last gasps at life, the scene of months of hospice care…the vigil…the journey…the realities of it all…the final stillness. Now she is gone and the room is quiet except for that ticking of the clock.
Beautiful colors combine to incite, to provoke, to intrude, to piss off….hopefully.
“Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It would be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be
satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience.”