I am proficient at a few things but construction is not one of them. I have zero patience for hammering nails, drilling holes or thinking of how pieces of wood could possibly fit together. But I built an obelisk. I cut pieces of bamboo, drilled holes in them and then used plastic zip ties to hold the thing together.
I like to think I am proficient in selecting diction and syntax. Perhaps this is why I built an obelisk. Because saying “obelisk” is really gratifying. Say it out loud. Obelisk.
One of my favorite bloggers is in agreement and wrote,
Obelisk is a nice, solid, meaty word. I’m going to have to make one, just so that, for a blessed week or two, when people ask me how I’m doing, I can square my shoulders and stare back at them with a steely glint in my eye.
“I,” I will say, “am building an obelisk.” (source)
Lemon cucumbers grew up the obelisk and it was quite useful for awhile. And now, the season’s ending and it is falling apart. As (most) of my plants are only alive for a few short months, in such a manner did I too build the obelisk. In order to connect with the fleeting nature of my annuals, I built something transient…ephemeral…that I may share in how my short-lived flora grows and lives and bears fruit and then dies.
Do you buy that? Me either, because it is a load of bull…Hey! This glog has a PG rating.
The thing was shoddily built.
My husband (the Spy Garden Builder of Garden Structures) and I strolled through the garden today. He looked at my sad little obelisk, leaning over on the deer fence, dilapidated and falling apart at the joints and covered in brown, dried and dead cucumber vines and said,
“It’s time to take down this mollusk.”
He knows it is an obelisk, not a mollusk. It was a joke. And it made me laugh and laugh. Because he knows the only reason I built the obelisk was so I could use the word obelisk.
And the Spy laughed.
And a few other sights du jour:
In the background of the above picture is a lemon cucumber and a pink (Hartman’s Giant) amaranth stalk.