All the Optimism of Early March

030715Freshly painted front door. New green chairs on the porch, assembled with ratchet and allen wrench in the living room as February departed. Pots of artemisia and cedar sage, tropical milkweed and plumbago, rolled in the grass until the roots loosen. Move the salvia greggi to a sunnier spot. Separate the manfreda. Water in the blackfoot daisies. Right now it’s easy to believe that everything will grow — drought and fierce sun and mosquitoes, so many mosquitoes, too far away to seem real. I get Chris and his torn jeans into the yard. We lift and dig and pat the soil. And then the following morning, as if I willed it myself, the rain arrives.

March 7, 2015

A Happy Place

030615“Don’t you want to marry them all?” asked my friend years ago when we went out to shop at the Natural Gardener. She was referring to the employees, gentle and knowledgable and sporting braids and dirty hands. In the garden, collards grew massive. Caterpillars downed fronds of fennels exactly as they were supposed to. A donkey brayed — how often do I get to use the word bray? — and vines climbed fences. Rosemary was forever tumbling over a wall. When I come here I think anything is possible. Tomato starts will yield perfect fruit, native sage shoot red blooms toward the sky. And it’s true that the lacebark elm we planted in memory of George and Sylvia a decade ago is shades the front yard. Yes, I want to marry them all.

March 6, 2015

A New Home

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At Creative Action’s brand new building, pencils fill the signs, pencils in red and orange and yellow and blue that say we make things here, we start and erase and start again. Brick walls are dotted with windows the height of an eight  year old, a twelve year old, a forty year old. Inside the rooms, kids wear masks with excitement, so different than the dream I had last night that I was cast in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, unprepared. Sidney makes us a list. Greek mythology. Kabuki. Self portraits made from projecting images onto paper. Yes, we say. Yes to all of it. Out on the deck, a hole to the sky, each of us turning to look up.

January 6, 2015