A few thoughts… On $1.8 billion dollars and lilacs

By Sandy Compton
Reader Columnist

“The Trump administration announced on Monday the creation of a $1.8 billion fund to compensate those who claim they were targeted by the Biden Justice Department and Democrats, forging a pipeline to funnel taxpayer money to President Trump’s allies. … The arrangement raised the possibility that American taxpayers might end up writing checks to those prosecuted for the attack on the Capitol by a pro-Trump mob … and others the president has cast as victims of Biden administration actions.” — The New York Times, May 18, 2026

You can’t make this stuff up. $1.8 billion dollars to reward Donnie’s devotees, including those who trashed the Capitol in January 2021. Of course, that’s small change compared to what we’re spending on an unwinnable war with Iran. Even if we “win,” the same problem is going to jump back up. This is a game of political “whack-a-mole” the West has been playing in the Middle East since the end of the 19th century and has yet to “win.”

A gallon of gasoline is $1.60 more than it was in February. Diesel, which runs the trucks by which almost everything we eat, drink or wear is delivered, is up $2.25 a gallon Everything we eat, drink and wear is following the trend.

Maybe you already know that. Maybe you also know that Donnie’s approval rating is down around 37% and falling. What’s interesting about that, is that on May 20, 70% of his political party still approved of Donnie’s actions in Iran. But it seems some folks are changing sides. We can only hope so. 

There’s so much to rant about, I could go on and on — and on — but that’s it for this edition.

We have a plethora of swallows at the Compton Compound this spring. For some reason, they are occupying birdhouses that haven’t seen a newly feathered nest in years. We don’t mind. They are constantly straining the air for mosquitos and other bothersome bugs, a much more eco-friendly method than chemicals. It’s also somewhat hypnotizing to watch them hunt, swooping and swirling — sometimes for seconds without batting a wing, as if they are jet-powered. Their iridescent backs change color as they glide through the sunlight. They are a study in aerodynamics and momentum. 

Everything is a bit early. Robin hatchlings are nearly ready to fledge, my newly planted grass seed has already spouted and the Apache rose in my yard is about ready to start competing with the lilac. 

My lilac blooms white, and I wanted a purple one in my environs for balance. So, a couple of years ago, I undertook a transplanting project, moving a purple lilac bush from where my maternal grandparents lived out their lives and plopping it down next to the playhouse my father and paternal grandfather built for us long, long ago. 

The playhouse was saved from rotting into the ground about a decade ago, and now serves as the tool cache for the Friends of Scotchman Peaks Wilderness trail crew; noble duty, indeed. 

The transplanted lilac did not do well. Its first year near the playhouse was very hot and dry, and though I watered it religiously, it suffered. The following spring, it had a few leaves sprout here and there, but it was by no means healthy-looking. When fall came, I pruned off the dead bits. The next spring didn’t bring much in the way of green, either. That fall, I pruned off more dead wood. 

“Harumph,” I thought. “I went to a great deal of time, trouble and physical exertion to move this thing, and it’s looking worse every year.” 

This continued through last summer. A few hopeful leaves, but no new growth on the stem. There was nothing left to lop, really, unless I wanted to just cut the poor thing off at the ground, which I was loath to do. 

“OK,” I thought. “One more spring. We’ll see what happens.” 

About a month ago, when things began to green up, I went to check on the lilac. Way down at the base was a tiny, new-looking bud, and I thought, “Maybe.” Then, I left home for 10 days in the tropics. When I got home, the lawn had already gotten out of hand, so I fixed the lawnmower (a somewhat annual event) and began driving it around the yard, trying to cut off as many dandelions as I could before their seedheads developed. When I drove past the poor, pathetic lilac, I stopped to see how that hopeful little bud was doing — not well — just two tiny lilac leaves. 

Then I compared those two leaves to the leaves of several healthy-looking stems growing right nearby. The purple lilac is coming back from the roots. 

I pray that our country will do the same. 

Sandy Compton is author of more than a dozen books, fiction and non-fiction. They are available at bluecreekpress.com, amazon.com, Sandpoint Books and the Sanders County Ledger.