This morning, with the thought that warmer weather might someday arrive, we visited a nursery in the country about seventeen miles north of here, a large wholesale business that welcomes retail customers during the months of April, May, and June. On the way, it rained steadily as we crossed swollen creeks and drove by fields, lakes, and ponds, not always sure which were which. While we were inside the nursery’s […]
The tulips are several weeks behind. All over the neighborhood, the plants are distorted, and seem to be twisting themselves up out of the ground. They remind me of Van Gogh’s cypresses. Even now with the weather warming slightly, we’ve yet to see a single open bloom. The cherries, though, are finally at their peak and are beginning to snow. Here and there, resting under the trees facing the State […]
A cold, wet spring. Tulips several weeks behind. Are they snowflakes or cherry blossoms? I’ll let the robins decide. . [ 1705 ]
I haven’t raked the leaves from under the maples, or those that are piled deep beneath the big rhododendron by the front door. What’s living in, on, and under them plays a far more important role in the local ecology than any so-called neatness I might achieve. The walk is swept. The flowerbed is ready for spring. That’s enough tidiness. Behind the house, the irises are pushing, and an abundance […]
I spent part of yesterday afternoon weeding the front slope. Leaning against the mossy retaining wall, I did the work by hand, one weed at a time, my right hand pulling, my left planted firmly on the ground. As I went along, I also used my right hand as a rake, massaging every inch of the moist, aromatic soil, my hand being massaged in return. This went on for an […]
High water has driven the homeless from their encampment on the west side of the river. In that place alone, they number in the hundreds. They turn up everywhere — downtown, in parks, under bridges, in the public library, in the hospital half-starved and with nasty infections. Moss grows on asphalt. Daffodils make way for tulips. How high is high moral ground? What is it like to live there? No […]
If I truly love the absence of pain, how can I not also love its presence? I am not above life and unique to choose. In this transient human disguise, I cannot even reliably, or consistently, distinguish between the two. Indeed, it might well be, and it might be well, that they are one. April 5, 2019 Coming of Age A light supper, a thunderstorm, and a sturdy hut. […]
William Michaelian 