Maybe the rain and fertilizer will help. They were doing pretty good for a while there, but as the heat and summer continued they gradually slid downhill.
I hope they bounce back.
Fortunately, there's always that midnight hour avenue, no matter what. That street often carries the most optimism. Maybe it's because there's really nothing else left. What hope is left gets invested in a last ditch effort. All is probably true, but mostly true because it's probably easiest to go all in on the last hand.
At least that way you can say you tried, even if you didn't.
It definitely takes shots at your pride. I guess the only way it doesn't is if you rethink what you're proud of. I don't think pride is a bad thing. In fact, if we didn't take pride in anything then I doubt we'd be good at anything.
Maybe pride gets a bad rap.
Maybe it's also another way to seek sympathy. There's a chance things will turn around because this isn't normal. An interregnal part of me is suffering. Things must and will be right.
I don't know.
Pride's not really a good excuse for anything, really. But then again, there never is a good excuse, or an excuse that's good enough. To be an excuse is a failed attempt at being.
Excuse is another harborer of false hope, anyway. The only thing you can do with false hope is more accurately schedule your disappointment.
It's three o'clock in the morning, and our boxwoods are dying.
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