Nature at its best and worst

by Pat Laster

This week, I was struck by these beauties in my yard in central Arkansas: japonica (firebush), forsythia (yellowbell), spirea, pansies, deep-red miniature nandinas, buttercups, heirloom double jonquils, blue-blossomed vinca, berried hollies, hyacinths, dianthus and the understated pink blooms of loropetalum.
Yellow coins of dandelions are blooming underfoot, a portent of future infestation. Hen-bit greens up the yard until the grass begins growing. A yellow sheep shire bloom and stars-of-Bethlehem are also visible in the grass and a lone grape hyacinth peeks from down low in the flower bed.
The oxalis foliage is lush and there are several pink blooms in the hanging basket outside the south window. And thrift. How could I overlook the cascading thrift? Also, the redbud (Judas Tree) is turning fuchsia. And if that weren’t enough, the pear tree is blooming!
Inside, an old begonia (close to the south window) shows one lonely bloom, but four African violets—three blue, one pink—are splendid in their florescence.
As warm as it’s been, it’s awfully tempting to begin putting the plants back outdoors. But I know it’s too soon. The wind would whip them to pieces. Except for the mother-in-law’s tongue. It’s tall, heavy leaves would stand stoically as usual through any weather. We know folks like that, don’t we?
Nature can show both its sublimity in the instances of plants and birds, and its destructive violence as experienced in tornadoes and floods.
This time, central Arkansas received only gusty winds. Places in mid-country weren’t so lucky. At one point, according to newspaper wire reports, storms arrived so fast between last Friday and early Saturday that as many as four million folks were within 25 miles of a tornado.
OTHER SUBJECTS: A recent news picture’s caption mentioned a turpentine farm. A new term for me, so I Googled it, discovering that in earlier years, yellow pine trees were cut into, the resin/sap dripped into boxes, which, when full, were taken to larger containers, then even larger ones and shipped to a distillery, thence to buyers. The online source prompted a poem: “on a dark night/ the turpentine farm becomes/ a cemetery” Cuts in the trees leave whitened resinous coatings that reflect eerily at night.
A term found in an obit ended up in my journal: “Quartermaster Striker (Korean War).” Striker was the enigmatic word. In the list of US Navy Enlisted Rates/Ratings, I found the meaning. I think.
“Sailors who go directly to a base, station or ship without specialized school training following recruit training are encouraged to select a career field. Through correspondence courses provided for self-study and on-the-job training (OJT), they may qualify for entry into a rating. This path is called "striking for rate." A seaman working in the deck department of a ship will by work assignment find herself most often in training for the deck rating of Boatswain Mate. Many "strikers" will venture into other departments to become a Yeoman, Damage Controlman or Gunnersmate as openings occur. Many technical rating fields are restricted to formal school graduates and thereby closed to "strikers." Having experienced the width and depth of Navy life, most "strikers" become excellent petty officers.” #