memory jar

I did a stupid – wrote this post last night, published it, then freaked to think I actually put something like that out for the world to see, and reverted the post back to draft. Some things are just better left in the brain catacombs and not put into words for mass consumption…which is an equally stupid thing to say. The “masses” who read my blog would likely all sit comfortably together on my living room couch.

I planted this clay pot with begonias over the weekend. A little bleach would take the green stain off the pot, but I like the way it looks with it on there. I always put begonias in it because they never fail to thrive in it, but more significantly, it’s what I’ve always done. For the same reason, I choked when I read my post and decided to take it down. I deleted the words, so that private matters remain private, but deleting them didn’t make them any less true. Still, things don’t seem quite as real in my mind as they are on paper. Sometimes reality is better when it’s not so real.
 

People in this part of the world call this vessel a strawberry jar.  Some people actually do plant strawberries in them and I’ve tried growing strawberries with other jars, but it just doesn’t look pretty all summer like begonias do.  This jar is exactly like another I had once, and exactly like some I remember from long ago.  The point is that a jar like this planted with these flowers, is ...better left just as it is, unexplained, and  just some flowers on some stupid woman’s porch.  That’s all.