Sunday, July 12, 2015

Dandelion Love

She stood at my front door, all three feet and 7 inches of her, my granddaughter. On her face was a smile and in her hand was a yellow dandelion bloom.

Here, Opa, I got you a flower. I accepted the gift with the pomp and circumstance such an offering deserved.

Yes, any other day that same yellow bloom would have served as an unwelcome reminder that weeds were overrunning my lawn.  But right then that dandelion plucking was an an invaluable expression of love.

Monday, July 6, 2015

Celebration or Reinactment

It was the 4th of July and the quiet of dusk was broken by the cracks of igniting  gunpowder, explosive flashes, whistling rockets, and shouts of Hooray.

The celebration was taking place in 2015 near my home in Lewes, DE.

And yet it could just as well have been the year 1814 near Fort McHenry: muskets firing charges of black powder, glowing hot cannonballs arching through the sky, and shouts of Huzzah every time the ebb of battle changed.

Which makes me wonder if, when we celebrate our independence, we aren't subconsciously reliving one of the epic battles that got us there.

Sunday, June 14, 2015

Natural Pause

There is that moment when nature takes a deep breath.

Cacophonous birdsong falls silent. Crickets halt the rubbing of legs. Gnats cease their spinning tornado dances. Butterflies fold their swings.

Tree leaves cease to flutter. Blades of grass no longer bend. Empty playground swings stop their ghostly pendulum. The day-long heat halts its advance. Shadows have turned from black to gray.

The silent world lies waiting...waiting... until comes that boom of thunder and sizzle of lightning announcing the opening of heavens gates. Winds churned to a howling fury send pregnant clouds racing to deliver life supporting rain. Even the stoutest of trees bend before the onslaught.

In its wake the storm leaves water drip drip dripping from a dozen and more surfaces. Sporadically at first, then with confidence, crickets resume their concerto - accompanied now by the bass of croaking frog. In the audience, birds chitter excitedly about the sumptuous breakfast to be had in the morn. And people... people revel in the shelter offered by their homes.

Thursday, June 11, 2015

Christmas in June

I want to watch the Christmas movie. Those were the first words out of our 3 year-old granddaughter's mouth as she came through our front door on an 80 degree June day.  The desired movie being The Grinch That Stole Christmas.

Our granddaughter comes by it honestly.

When I was growing up Christmas was always a bid deal in my immediate and extended family. Later, the first Christmas tree I bought for an apartment of my own took up a full quarter of the living room. Later still, decorating the colonial style house in which my wife and I set up housekeeping grew to a four day undertaking.

Our own kids knew the words to every Christmas song there ever was by heart. A friend once speculated that I must have tied my son to a chair, placed speakers on either side of him, and refused to cut him loose until every holiday song was committed to memory.

My son went on to buy a Christmas tree that took up a full quarter of the living room of his apartment.

So when our daughter's daughter requested Christmas in June my wife looked at me, rolled her eyes, and said.... Oh my gosh -  it's genetic

Monday, June 8, 2015

Memory Lesson

The cardinal had fluttered to a landing on the hood of my parked car. From the opposite side of the windshield the bird pecked inquisitively at something beneath the cowling that sheltered the windshield wipers when they were off. The toughness of the cardinal's beak was evident in the rapping whenever the glass itself was struck.

Moving slowly, I sought a better vantage point that I might see what the cardinal was after. I was not the only curious one. A second cardinal came in for a landing.  The photo op was too good to pass up. Raising my cell phone, trying for the best shot, I leaned an inch too far forward. Both birds took to flight.

I took the message to heart. Sometimes the best memories are those that live.... only in your memory.

Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Turning on a Breeze

The glare of morning sun racing from horizon to shore had lessened as the sun rose ever higher into the royal blue sky. The crisp contrails of jet engines thinned into wispy curtains that others would take for clouds. Heat started to rise from previously damp sand and those strolling the water's edge risked an occasional detour into the swirling eddies.

The stiff breeze coming from the west brought only the inland heat. Umbrellas popped open. T-shirts and cover-ups came off. Skin glistened with newly applied sunblock. The volume of conversations lowered as folk succumbed to heat induced naps.

And then a tang salt was carried by a breath of cool; a cool quickly chased by a gust of heat. For long minutes they played back and forth - these breaths and gusts - until with the surety of the slow but steady turtle the breaths one out.

Umbrellas tool on extreme tilts - now blocking breezes rather than sun. Shirts and cover-ups reappeared along with beach towels thrown across legs and feet.

Just like that the breeze had turned the day.

Saturday, March 14, 2015

Missing the Landmark

Everyone has local vacation destinations they look forward to every year. The familiar drive is peppered with landmarks that serve to raise the excitement level. The twenty foot tall cow, the twelve foot high rocking chair, the ice cream store with a name like Molly's or Steve's - all of these serve to announce the special vacation spot is that much closer.

For me, the well weathered pilot's boat perched on a raised mound of earth as advertisement for a marine supply store was what told me the drive from Pennsylvania to Rehoboth Beach was nearly at an end.

Even though I now live in the local area, every sighting of that boat was a reminder of family and suitcases packed into a car.

The day I approached that well known bend in the road to discover the tilting pilot's boat had been replaced by a high-tech LED sign was a sad one.  While the sign no doubt is an advertising enhancement it is just one of many such signs that continue to pop up. A landmark it is not.

Thursday, February 12, 2015

Breach

A dragon's flame
A heart's desire

A winter day
Without a fire.

Fingers stretch
A hopeful reach

A fist is found
There's no beseech

She turns away
One tear is shed
He watches her
Already dead.

Monday, February 2, 2015

Inexplicable Groundhog

Apparently the groundhog caught a glimpse of his shadow while climbing out of his tanning bed this morning. Given the prevailing weather conditions, that's the only explanation for the inexplicable prediction.

Which means I will continue to stare longingly into the full spectrum light by desk. A last ditch attempt to keep the winter blahs at bay.

Perhaps a mid-winter field trip is in order. That's the ticket!  I'll buy a ticket! A ticket to the southern climes. I'll bask in true sunlight while sipping one of those umbrella drinks, and dangling my feet in the pool

I'm feeling better already.

Thursday, January 15, 2015

Gift From A Child

There is nothing so humbling as having a 3 year old show you a better way to do something you have struggled with for years...

...And nothing so precious as being reminded to see the world as a place where anything is possible