Walking along the edge of Carpenter's Woods, Lola and I pass by this dead bush honeysuckle. It's been sprayed with herbicide. Now normally, the victim of hypermetaphorosis sees something like this and makes a leap to images of death by chemistry and gets morbid or at least morose. Next thing you know, Eunoymus alatus is spreading like you-know-what or cancer is curling up the leaves of life, a poisoned summer becomes an early winter and the sun's warmth goes unheeded and growth is no more. Yuck.
Don't think I succumbed to that particular illness. Oh no. I knew that the foresters had been through and sprayed the invasive plants that were reducing the amount of wildlife habitat in the woods. And I knew that this apparent destruction was really just clearing the way for more life, that sometimes what looks healthy, ain't and that there's more and better life to grow in that spot.
I guess you get where I'm going with this. I'm sorry. I promise to stop soon. Maybe just one or two more in Thailand and another itty-bitty metaphor in Vietnam. Then I'll quit. Really.
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