This word has many definitions.

When I was in school it referred to anything that is or had ever been living matter.

Nowadays, mostly, it is used to refer to food that is supposed to have been healthfully raised. Perhaps hormone-free beef that has been fed only chemical-free grass. Or vegetables that have had the snails and insects picked off by hand or squirted off with a hose.

Now, when I hear people say “our relationship is organic,” I’m not sure what is meant. They might mean that it is maturing and developing in a good way. Or they might mean that it is dwindling.

Here I am using this definition: “Characterized by continuous and natural development.”

I am using it to refer to the American English language.

Specifically second person.

No one uses second person singular except perhaps when referring to the deity. It was intended to connote familiarity and intimacy not formality. “Hallowed be thy name.” “Thou art Peter.” Like “tu” in Romance Languages.

And absolutely no one seems to recall that “you” is both singular and plural, so we are inundated with “you guys,” which, I contend is an abomination superseded by its plural possessive, “you guys’s.” Or would that be “you guys’es”?

When it’s unclear, I much prefer “you both” or “you all” or “all of you.”

Interestingly, “guy” seems to be neuter. You never hear wait staff (also neuter) say “How is you gals’es dinner?” Small blessings

A recent language development is the use of they, them, and theirs following a clearly singular antecedent. In journalism, this seems to be done to conceal the gender of the referenced antecedent.

This was in this morning’s local paper, but I’ve even seen it in the NY Times.

“One person was found unconscious on a ground-level apartment and taken to Salem Hospital where they were treated for critical injuries. They died from those injuries four days later. Officials declined to release the name and the age of the deceased but confirmed they were an adult.”

Clearly, I need to be organic about organic language, but I’ve only just recovered from hearing people use “myself” because they don’t know whether “I” or “me” is needed.

“Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”

What an adventure that box of See’s Valentine candy continues to have! A very nice man at my neighborhood sub-station, where I mailed that box to Mother February 3, priority – two-day-delivery, has sorted it out. I hope.

So far, contrary to what appeared online, it has NOT been delivered in a wrong town and has now been “flagged” and will (eventually) be delivered.

As I watched on my laptop screen, it bounced from conveyor belt to conveyor belt back and forth between Midland and Austin for two weeks untouched by human hands, because a typo had been made by a local postal worker. 

It arrived repeatedly in Midland where a sensor said, “Oops. Not here.” and sent it on it’s way to Austin where another non-human said, “Not here.”

After this morning’s meeting at the Vista PO Substation, I just now received the following: “Your package is moving within the USPS network and is on track to be delivered to its final destination. It is currently in transit to the next facility.”

What a comfort! God only knows where that next facility might be.

While on a postal theme, here, I post a couple of pictures of my Granddaddy Capshaw, one from his early days as a postman:

and this one from how I remember his bring mail to our front door:

And here is my darling mail delivery woman today, in a self-portrait created by herself for a thank-you note. It a perfect caricature of Stephanie approaching my front door, courageously every day, no matter that two horrible dogs are barking ferociously just on the other side.

Oh, well if it was just a “misunderstanding,” then that’s okay. Just truck it on down here.

“A chemical waste landfill near the Columbia River in Oregon accepted hundreds of tons of radioactive fracking waste from North Dakota in violation of Oregon regulations that has alarmed environmental advocates. But the company won’t be fined because state officials believe landfill operators MISUNDERSTOOD state guidelines, authorities said.”

. . . red, Dilly-Dilly.

Violets are blue.

Life’s been so sweet, Dilly-Dilly,

Since I dumped you.

Okay. So that’s not very nice, but there you have it.

I think sometimes the best Valentines just might be the ones you grew for yourself.

What we have here is a twig of flowering quince I brought in to force, a sprig of Daphne, and early-blooming Sasanqua Camellia.

When I first moved here, someone told me to plant a Daphne by my doorstep. It blooms early in the new year and smells so good, especially on a rainy day.

The worst, are those ubiquitous long-stemmed red roses from the shop whose heads droop over and never open and have no perfume, and cost a fortune. Dilly-Dilly.