Posts Tagged ‘grass’

This weekend I spent with Mad Dog margaritas, poems about siblings, Everclear, Zombies, a fishing trip, family in town from far, families coming together, and a forced order of mozzarella sticks.

I got inspired at work today, which seems to happen often, and how often can you say that?

Now, Ellen has been in the kitchen braising lamb and cookin’ up some sweet potato biscuits. I’ve got a soon-to-be-full belly and a pocket full of love.

The good times are ones when there’s nowhere else to be but now.

The grass under my toes is as green as it gets.

Read Full Post »


timfieldThere was a board of gold stars next to each name in my kindergarten classroom.  I got the star for the finger painting and for the public service when I helped Carlin get her bag to the top cubby. I got the star for being punctual and the star for reading a story to the class. I grew that year and as I did my shoes seemed smaller. I never could get the star for double knotting my laces.  And I would try and I would practice, but I never did get the technique.

My teacher would do it for me. Right before recess, I would do the cross, the take-it-behind, the loop, the bunny ears, pull through, and then I’d freeze.

“This part’s the easiest,” she’d say and I’d say that no, that I saw what needed to happen but I just couldn’t get there.

And I would try and I would practice and again because by the end of the year, my shoes had gotten tighter, and I’d walk into that open field  across the lot at recess, and I wouldn’t feel the sun on my face, nor see the shadow behind me.  I wouldn’t see the grass in waves in the wind, nor feel my arms stretched out wide into the expanse.  

All I had were shoes too tight around me and a knot I couldn’t get out.

And I try and I practice.

Read Full Post »

My book in the grass

The wind

Flipping its pages

Read Full Post »