Like, what are plants, even? What do they know? What do they see? This is the cinder block wall that borders the parking lot of the bank where I finished my taxes today. Beyond it is a historic block of twenty-some-odd homes built during WWII, when our county was briefly the de-facto seat of US steel production for the war efforts. I’d wager the junipers and their friends have been here longer, though.
Every time I see this wall, I just want to stop and stare (and I often do) because it seems like everything on the other side is doing the same thing.