Archive for March, 2008

Ostentatious and deliberate

It seemed impossible. It was as if the rules of physics had somehow been temporarily suspended. Trees just don’t walk!

I know for certain that the huge juniper at the back edge of my property has always been directly behind the Alberta spruce that is the focal point of our upland garden. It is always perfectly in line with the Alberta when viewed from my office window. Today it is not! Today it is left of the Alberta by at least 15 feet.

As time allowed and I had gathered my wits about me I walked out to the property line and stood before the juniper. There was no sign of any kind of movement but, the tree was definitly 15 feet to the left of its usual position.

As I stood there in abject bewilderment, wondering how this could be possible, the little Alberta spruce, now behind me, said: “He’s always playing dumb tricks like that!”.

I don’t like to be toyed with. I took up a position on the ground in front of the juniper and sat, cross legged, on the ground. I stayed there and watched for well over two hours. It never moved. I, obviously, was mistaken.

Home For The Heart

Coming Home

Tell me now out here in sunshine
Ere we pass through winter wood
Are the joys so deeply sanguine
At the depths of womanhood

Have you found the blessed mixture
Of the path and of the word
That can keep the hopeful texture
Of the life the child augured

In the highlight and the shadow
Has the joy offset the pain
And your heart’s once soaring sparrow
Brought home love from its campaign

Come now kiss me by the fire
Fall within this warm embrace
Let our closure now inspire
And unsettling thoughts displace

There for each of us are measures
That will make the joy complete
And a time to take the pleasures
Of the bond where love’s replete

dash no hopes here on the hearthplace
let no tear beset your eyes
come within enchantments solace
into loves grand enterprise

for the clouds above do beckon
and the grass below is sweet
all pedestrian gyrations
are for naught now that we meet

sing aloud the words of wonder
kiss their blessings as they flow
and the sound will be as thunder
while we bask within their glow

Anthropomorphic Look At Blow Holes

          I Could Be True; Et Vous?

It wasn’t easy. I mean you, of course, understand why but, nevertheless it wasn’t easy. I have certain standards to maintain and, even though I’m a mere mortal, I take their maintenance seriously.

Alright, alright; I’ll start at the beginning.

We were sitting on my motorscooter in the breakdown lane of I95 just outside of Danvers. Waiting for the traffic to subside and some friends of ours to catch up. we had fallen into a pick-up game of hide-the-chorizo (pepperoni??) and (the subtle influence of mixed genders here) were both winning! Lance (her real name is Bill but I call her Lance) had just embarked on a lateral arabesque (left leg over) when there began an astonishingly high-pitched ululation that caused me to lose concentration and release my grip on the parrot. Simultaneously, I turned my head to see what was making that sound and the parrot, sensing that freedom was about to be his, squawked and flapped his way into the air. This caused Lance to try to use the bowling ball for support but, I had already applied the mazzola oil to it (and the chain as well) for lubrication. Her elbow slid off the bowling ball and onto the tethered (and now in full panic) mongoose.

The bungee cord that was holding my right leg in the air and the scooters burgee to the freshly opened jar of mayonaise snapped! The resulting release of pressure catapulted the burgee-cum-mayonaise jar spinning end over end into the oncoming lane of traffic!

Boats and Rabbits and Beer; Oh Dear!

I don’t hopscotch in the dirt much lately (pity) but I used to do that all the time. I remember borrowing a sailboat and going out the Essex river to a sandy beach that could only be reached from the water. Four of us picnicked all day and played hopscotch in the sand, “body” surfed and had a few rounds of hacky sac and beer (or was it twenty??). I was in my late thirties and remember us tying our bathing suits to the boom to dry out as we sailed back…we had worn our bathing suits out that day and left our clothes back in the car.On my desk at the “head shed” I worked for, I kept two “Racer Rabbits” that came as prizes in cereal (Kix maybe?? “Kix are for Kids!!! So the poor rabbit wasn’t allowed to have any”:( Anyhow, I had a blue one (boy) and an orange one (not boy) and I made up stories about them and their relationship and would tell the stories to my office mate (David) each morning. One day I came to work and there were two blue racer rabbits on my desk and the orange one had vanished! I looked and hunted and ranted and raved but no one would ever confess who gave my racer rabbit the sex change operation while I was sleeping!!!

It was a long, long time ago in a galaxy far far away. But, you can see, I still remember vividly those halcyon days with gossamer clouds floating beneath limitless azure skies…

Hey, let’s “pants” someone?!

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