Friday, March 04, 2005


Saturday morning last and I couldn’t find a fishing show. Man, it’d been so long since I’d seen one. All I could think was 150 channels but no Saturday morning fishing shows.

I finally found some atrocious “Bass Master”, the Hollywood-ization of fishing shows. The producers apparently watched too many NBA pre-games because it was all rock music and spot lights and stage sets. Nary a lake or river to be seen.

I’ve had such a hunkering for the simple life lately. The Daytona 500 was like a salve. I miss my country music days, the line-dancing, the summer days of wine & gardens. The quiet tendrils of the tomato plants spiralling around the stakes, giving off the scent of memory...


In spring the valley hints of rain,
the sky torn till rains
water the thirsts
of newborn plants.

In summer trees grow rings
of girth, leave leaves
big as your hands while
grasses muffle steps.

In fall colors grow festive
restive, a bullion soup
of hue falling at your feet
like seraphim before the Throne.

In winter, oh winter,
what is winter for?
He wondered at
leaves dead, composted,
only to grow again.

• • • • •

Very nice poem.

"I’ve had such a hunkering for the simple life lately."

Me too, TS. There's a restless in Lent, isn't there? We just moved to the country. It isn't enough that I can't hear the freeway anymore. Lately the sound of cars on the state highway at the end of the road is driving me crazy. I don't want to hear cars, any cars, from my yard. I want to hear birds chirp, roosters crow, cows moo, farmers farm, and children play -- but no cars. I don't even mind tractors or quad-runners. But the sound of cars on the highway is just another reminder that the barbarians are inside the gates ....
I hear ya. We stay at a weekend cabin out in the woods for a two or three weekends a year and the difference is amazing.

As much as I've tried to replicate rural life in the city (our lot is almost an acre and I planted twenty 6-foot evergreens - now 12-foot), I simply could not replicate the peacefulness of the country. While we see only beautiful vegetation we hear everything.
It might be age. When I was in college, I lived with a great aunt and uncle. I always thought their back yard was as quiet and serene as a monastery garden. It was heavenly. Years later, when visiting in their back yard, I noticed the loud rush of the freeway - and for the first time it occured to me that they practically lived under a freeway. :-)
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