THE THINGIST

Rescued Dutchmen's britches grow in a safer place.

THE QUILL RANTS ONCE AGAIN

I know that it is wrong to dig up wildflowers. In this case, however, there were mitigating circumstances. The plants in question grew in a spot road crews were about to douse with weed killer. Having seen them in action, I suspect that to local road crews, whatever grows somewhere other than Wal Mart's gardening section is a weed. I am not talking about Gaia loving folks here. I am talking about fellows who would like to Agent Orange the whole of West Virginia so that it can be covered in low maintenance AstroTurf. These are the people who replace horse chestnuts, wild cherry, locust and Osage orange trees with Bradford pear trees so ubiquitous in the parking lots of American shopping malls. In my own village, municipal crews have been assiduously uprooting trees that do not fit into the Town Council's plan to Street scape Main Street. Something tells me that by next year neat rows of Bradford pears will magically appear in the god awful cement boxes that are being built in the very heart of our historic district. Thomas Jefferson would weep if he see that democracy sometimes leads to eco terrorism.

OK, so planting Bradford pears is not exactly eco terrorism, but drowning Dutchmen's britches in weed killer has got to be a crime. I will not stand for it. Whenever possible I will move them to a safe place. It would be nice if the local authorities would allocate the funds they are currently spending to uglify Main Street to a wildflower preserve. I do not intend to hold neither have the committees appointed to care for the few green spaces remaining in the village.

It is good to know that sometimes Divine Providence intervenes in deliciously mysterious ways. for example, the village had no real police protection late at night until the mayor's house was stolen and his house broken into. By sheer coincidence, funds to hire more police appeared and now the citizenry can sleep better. Police response time continues to be a frighteningly long thirty minutes, but who knows, Divine Providence might help again. As for wildflowers, sorry folks. They and the local fauna are doomed unless. One would imagine that a popular uprising might help, but in this here village folks would only rise up if there were a shortage of latte at the local espresso bar.