Saturday, June 28, 2008
Summer is . . .
Cupped hands. Inside them you might find a wood frog.
Sting-eeze and band-aids to lessen the itching of mosquito bites.
Pipevine swallowtails in the purple cone flower.
A small boy with a green net and sparkly blue bucket yelling "I got a minnow!"
Polliwogs and crayfish.
Waiting on the patio for the first firefly flash.
Crashing thunder at 5 am. Downpours.
* * *
I'm still reading my River Styx 76/77 and loving every word of it. Albert Goldbarth's "That Was the Year" is my favorite among many wonderful tributes to food and what it means: love, culture, memory, and trying to understand the world and its inhabitants.
My children are teaching me patience.