Just like all super powerful lady persons that cross each others' paths, Madame Sunday and Mother Nature have tipped our bonnets to our respective fabulosity and worked out a deal. She does her best to make my life miserable with tornadoes, sunburns, Bermuda grass, allergies and plagues of locusts and I agree to stay inside as much as possible.
Don't tell her but I haven't been keeping up my end of the bargain and have been spending all my time outside this Spring. Granted, the blogging sauce has been suffering and my sinuses were trying to fuck me over something serious last week but I persevered.
In fact, the herb garden that I planted a few weeks ago is alive. IT'S ALIVE!!!!!! I think it might be time for Mother Nature and I to renegotiate our deal considering my black thumb of death has a green tint to it.
Unless it's gangrene which totally sounds like something that bitch would do.
To make a peace offering in hopes of warding off gangrenous limbs, let's pay homage to some of Mother Nature's finest loin fruits.
|New colors for the Ranch. TIME TO REPAINT EVERTHANG!!|
And by 'finest things' I mean 'vomitous things' that better never make their way across my path except in two dimensions because they're really purty.
Only a real lady SOB would make the prettiest colors and patterns on the most horrendous things.
Ok, butterflies get a pass...
But these fuckers don't. It's like art for Buffalo Bill's freaknasty dungeon. Hope you're proud of yourself, Mother Nature! Serial killers really dig your shit.
I would squish you in a hot second as long as I thought you wouldn't make that stomach-churning meaty squishing noise. But not after I admired your markings. Maybe sketched them. AHAHAHAHAHA I don't sketch anymore. I mean I'd take a photo and Instagram it. #21stCenturyMadame
I'm gonna make that my new color palette for my bedroom. Isn't that what you always here decorators say? "Pull from nature and group your Kirkland's accessories in threes!"
I fucking hate things that jump. But not more than the Kirkland's smell.
But I'm totally cool with things that have pinchers and are cobalt. Beetles are the most alien architecture badasses of the bug world and they're okay in book.
If I was a good blogger I'd hit you with a really smart paragraph about scarab beetles but that seems like a lot of work for someone drinking boxed wine and not wearing pants. You'll just have to Wikipedia it on your own.
Don't feel like you have to wear pants while you do it though. No judgment here.
|Early 20th century Pochoir Prints from E.A. Seguy via BibliOdyssey|
Well you're not the only one with amazing powers of design! Check out these cool man-made patterns on the backs of these Swiss beetles:
|Cornelia Hesse-Honegger via Wissenskunst|
Booyah! Well... they were caused by radiation from nuclear power plants (and disasters like Chernobyl) but who's really keeping track of those things? Just artists and scientists all over the world. Who are probably wearing pants all the time. *eyeroll*
But don't underestimate the beautifully destructive powers of humans, Mother Nature. We got game!!
And hopefully a bountiful herb garden in a few months so please let's observe the new treaty rules where I don't die from a lightening strike or a really bad mosquito bite. We're both adults here.
Well one of us is a awesomely sessy Madame adult who spits in the face of pants and the other one wears granny panties made of palm leaves and molted bird feathers or whatever the fuck it is she wears.
I tell you what, it sure as shit better not be basil leaves plucked from my garden...