In The Rain

Yesterday in the afternoon, a wind came out of the north. The branches of the Ash trees swept and swayed. And Ash seeds that have been in the tree since spring (waiting perhaps for a little water with which they might sink new roots) fell from the sky like snow, turning the ground light crisp golden-brown.

Today it rained: a slow drizzle all morning. Ash seeds clogged the gutters and collected into piles on the ground where the water was running, turning the driveway into a lake.

I wonder if anyone saw me out there in the rain with my hat on, just before lunch with a broom in my hand, sweeping the pools of wet Ash seeds into wet, golden piles, barely able to contain myself at the contribution they'll make to the compost pile.

Who is that guy? What on earth is he doing? Mabel, tell him it's raining!

10:54:05 PM   permalink: []   feedback:   comments:  

When the Bottom Falls Out

I was in the yard trimming hedges when something fell behind me. It made a racket falling thru the leaves of the Monterey Oak, like a struggle or something. I turned to look. A clump of shredded Juniper bark was swinging from the lowest branch.

High above, in an Ash tree branch that almost overhangs the oak, the long-time squirrel nest had shifted noticeably, and I could see light thru it. Its bottom had fallen out. All the squirrel's work thru the spring and summer, day after day gathering sticks and fuzzy shredded stuff -- and the bottom just fell out.

There was no sign of the squirrel, although I suspect he fell thru that hole. (At least that would explain the struggling sounds I heard and why some branches were swaying when I turned to look.) In any event, the squirrel soon reappeared and began working feverishly, biting off brittle sticks and taking them over to the bottomless nest. But the nest was beyond repair, and after a while the construction ceased and the squirrel disappeared.

I can't say I blame it for quitting.

Still, the next day the squirrel was back working on a new nest on a different branch in another tree nearby as if nothing had happened at all.

I gotta go run or something.

10:53:03 PM   permalink: []   feedback:   comments:  

His Not Hip Brother

My brother came down from Chicago for the ACL music festival, and my contribution was to ride shotgun as Trudy drove him to the park in the morning and from the park at night.

I napped on his first day here while he painted rusty knick knacks, swept the patio and driveway, blasted a stereo in the backyard, weeded the rose bush and begged me (to no avail) to let him install gutters on the side of the house.

I asked the manager of the taco place to make some decaf coffee, and he drank one cup of the real stuff then two. I ordered two breakfast tacos. He gobbled down three.

One night I splurged on a small chocolate frosty. He dove into a bag of fries and a double cheeseburger and spooned a large frosty on the side, three nights in a row.

I drove him to the resale store, and he looked around for cool shirts as I rocked in a rocking chair on the porch outside with the owner trying to recognize the names of all the bands she said she gets to play on the little stage in the back during the week.

He recounted with glee standing in the mud and heat for six hours, jostling for a good position to see Pearl Jam. At every mention of their name, all I could see was his white drum set from when we were young, and my head got dizzy thinking of the prospect of standing up so long.

I am so my brother's not hip brother. And I am so glad he came.

10:52:11 PM   permalink: []   feedback:   comments: