As noted then in these pages, my brother, Kirk, died two years ago today — an interval which seems much more like one expansive, all-encompassing breath. I see, meanwhile, that it’s been almost a month since I last wrote. During that time, I’ve felt neither the urge nor the need. And I don’t feel it now. What I do feel is the arrival of spring. Why, then, am I writing? […]
Late strawberries — almost ripe — the squirrels get them before we do. A cloudy morning, no dew: raked and mowed the front and back grassy areas. Birch leaves. Fir cones. Pine needles. Mushrooms. Took a walk through the neighborhood, reversing the direction of this morning’s run. This time, down the hill. Saw a man swabbing some kind of sealant on the sidewalk and driveway he had replaced two or […]
Until the robin ate the worm, he didn’t know he was hungry. And he asked himself, “Maybe this is wisdom?” . [ 1775 ]
A brisk walk this morning instead of a slow run. Farther, faster. How interesting. How odd. And then there were the robins, singing in the dark. One was on the sidewalk, absorbed in his song. As I went around him, he didn’t stop once. He seemed helpless, almost. Imagine that much music in your throat. . [ 1743 ]
I run so early in the morning I’m seldom met or passed by a car. When I am, I’m amazed all over again at how much pollution even one vehicle generates. It happened this morning, when I was overtaken by a small late-model pickup as we moved towards the stop sign by the fig tree. As I ran through the fumes, I took shallow breaths until I was clear of […]
Thirty-seven degrees. There was snow yesterday evening in hilly areas a few miles south, and hail here. Maybe this is why the robins haven’t returned to their unfinished nest in the rhododendron. A few smaller birds, though, have stopped to investigate. Otherwise, the weather continues to be rainy with cool daytime temperatures and brief intervals of sun. Our garden space is still muddy, and the soil hasn’t warmed enough to […]
A robin is building a nest in the rhododendron just outside the window of the little bedroom at the end of the hall. I was on the floor stretched out on my back for an after-lunch rest when her movement caught my eye. If she follows through and all goes well, we’ll be able to watch as a new family of robins comes into being. The plant isn’t a dense […]
A cold, wet spring. Tulips several weeks behind. Are they snowflakes or cherry blossoms? I’ll let the robins decide. . [ 1705 ]
Was I awake, or asleep? Was I there, or somewhere else? Banish the word or and the answer is clear: there need be no answer. That, in its own simple, strange way, is the story of my life. My grandfather, emerging from the sycamore shade on the south end of his house, barefoot and carrying a shotgun in one hand and the bloody remains of a robin in the other, […]
If I don’t fully understand the question, then what good will my answer be? Yet I think I understand, and answer with confidence, even when I’m as wrong as a chunk of wood in a fancy cocktail, or a rusty cucumber in a bag of nails. Even worse, I believe myself, and make an art of my haste and ignorance. Many times over the years, I’ve read, and heard it […]
William Michaelian 