No one taught my father to swim. He jumped into the ditch and started paddling. A depression, a lifetime, a war, a family later, he climbed out of the water and waved from the bank on the other side. He waved and he waved, and faded to shade, in the flesh with the fish, a splash and a wish, a breeze, the sky, a door. And then we couldn’t see […]
Were I to name the wildflowers, they would go on being wild, and I would become a little less so. Along the rim trail, and deep in the north end of the dustless, green canyon, is an abundance of delicate flowers, poised on tender stems, calling out to the bees and butterflies in scented voices and soft hues. Some look like tiny stars; some have large petals; some hold up […]
I can make a tasty six-ounce cup of coffee using our small, fifty-year-old, fine-meshed strainer by holding it over the cup and very slowly pouring hot water over the grounds. It’s a two-step process. First, I drip enough water over the grounds to saturate them, and let them bloom for about half a minute. Then I pour the rest of the water. It might also work with a ten- or […]
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 […]
Water is rushing over the road again, coursing through an old channel of the river that’s cleansing Goose Lake from top to bottom, and carrying debris from Mission Lake into the Willamette. Muddy in places, the path through the area is in generally good condition. Dandelions and daisies are abundant, and line the roadsides leading into the park. The immense black walnut is beginning to bud. There are enough daisies […]
The ancient mariner, with a laptop hung around his neck. . [ 1671 ]
The river is high, the water wide, the ferryman far from shore. The heron flies, the ferryman cries, pulls hard upon his oar. . [ 1669 ]
William Michaelian 