Wednesday, February 24, 2010


Today was a hopeful day.  It feels like
the end of winter, not-quite-spring, cool enough
to raise goosebumps on sweaterless arms,
but warm enough to go without a sweater
- just.  The air is somehow bursting outwards;
the sky no longer pressing down heavily on us.
The dampness that fell as drizzle
during the night and lingers as puddles in the
morning is not the kind from which I recoil, but more like surf:
it carries me with it toward the sky
and makes my heart beat stronger.

This is the kind of day I remember so vividly and so fondly:
it makes me think of the kind of afternoons when
high school physics problems are pushed aside
until after the sun has fallen
because, today, it's warm enough for soccer.

All day today I remembered the happy anticipation I used to
feel during French conjugations, Chekhov plays or statistics
And then I remembered the laughter of my friends
the feeling of mud on the back of my legs
as we ran, falling in the mud
the pop of the ball against our cleats
playing keep away - my dark-haired friend always won,
never a contest at all;
the tightness in my chest and the sting of my bare legs
in the still just a little too cold air.

And then we would jog back to my house,
our cleats ringing against the pavement,
to have a snack before my friends collected
their school bags, home to physics problems

where our mothers would intercept us at our doors,
in disbelief at all the mud that coated us,
the mud a vehicle for our joy.

What signs of spring bring you joy?
Does weather ever bring back memories for you?

Friday, February 19, 2010

Ash Wednesday

Carnival is over,

so soon after we were all anticipating



Now we are tired.

Perhaps we are even a little bit bleary-eyed.

But we have our memories! 

Sunday, February 14, 2010


It happens to all of us, somedays.

I hope you had a happy St. Valentine's Day, and know that you are loved!

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

The Night Parades

The excitement builds for weeks before the parades.
Slowly, the sides of the route are lined with 
orange fencing, a little more appearing each day.
Tractors pull the viewing stands, bedecked 
with festival colors, to their places along the road.

On the day of the first parade, 
the traffic crawls in the afternoon, 
 past the workers setting up little booths, 
stretching their striped roofs into place 
and placing purple and pink fuzzy monkeys in little piles.
The signs cry out:
Fried Oreos!
Candy Cupboard!

At twilight, the horns are wailing their 
ululations and the music explodes, joyously, from car stereos.

No one minds the rain,
or the chill,
or the mud,
or the sounds a little too loud.

And then the parade is here, marching and dancing


No one looks down,
because worse than missing a string of beads
is getting hit in the head with one.

How does your community express joy?  What are the festivals that unite you?
What celebration do you wait patiently for each year?

Thursday, February 4, 2010


It's still raining.
The puddles here are immense, and the drip-drip-drip against my window is constant.  And it's not just me: my family and friends scattered to the four corners are reporting record-breakingly awful weather.  It's a safe bet that, from wherever you've come to visit this blog, you could use a little sunlight.  These are some of my favorite sunlight pictures from the past summer - here's hoping they warm you up!