So, I Was Thinking…

Of dirty, musky-smelling potatoes

and greasy, hot, salty french fries.

Of magical carrots pulled out of the dirt

and carrot-colored Cheetos.

Of oat-bread french toast with real butter churned a few miles away at Homeland Creamery

and Yo’ Drops from Plum Organics (click here).

Of bits of scrambled eggs from chickens raised by Milton and Bill

and pediatrician-sanctioned Goldfish crackers for an almost one-year-old still reluctant to eat solid food.

Of a trip to a Farmer’s Market

and a neighborhood a few miles away labeled a “food desert.”

Of Wheat Belly (click here)

and my 91-year-old Aunt Nadine from Iowa who has always eaten “meat and potatoes” meals and makes her own yogurt and can out-walk me.

Of the joy in watching a 3-year-old playing and running in the backyard with a new dog

and the impotent stupor induced by Brian Williams describing whatever new disaster or threat NBC has pictures of.

Of sturdy yellow daffodils poking up while I wear my red wool coat

and the shriveling blooms on the magnolia tree outside my office window because it’s not supposed to be below freezing in NC at the beginning of April.

Of the total unpredictability of weather

and our need to know what to expect about something.

Of triple-pane energy-efficient windows

and the smell of fresh spring air bringing tree pollen to my sinuses through the open window.

Of the fun of shopping with Kristin (with no kids) for Atticus’s 1-year-birthday-party outfit

and the helplessness of not knowing how my spinning head of vertigo ended up lying on the floor of Gymboree at Friendly Shopping Center.

Of how each moment of each day is precious

and how much that is worthy of wonder we choose not to notice.


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12 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Well said. I shall try to look upon the pollen as a portal to my youth, when my nose didn’t run and I took it only as a sign that summer was on its way.

    • I just remember how pollen would get caught under a contact lens and feel like a boulder in my eye. Vanity doesn’t win anymore. Comfort rules.

  2. You take me down many roads, some not remembered in some time and others beckon on a daily basis. Sometimes, I go, and other times, well….

    Beautiful post and apropo of nothing, thanks for the link to wheat belly.

    • I’ll pass your thanks on to the retired man I live with. It’s his book–I haven’t actually read it!

  3. Loved this. I am in awe of people who can create poetry! Would love to see more of this.

    • Thanks, Cathy. The funny thing is it didn’t start as poetry. It was just sentences and then I started playing with the layout. I’m glad you liked it.

  4. …of this one unique moment just before the rain when the whole house is quiet and I am wrapped in the silence of time spent alone.

  5. I’m dazzled! This is beautiful writing. Not just the wordsmithing, but the capture of ideas and juxtaposition of images. Maybe dazzled isn’t the right word; maybe jealous. I think the closest I have come to writing like this is this post:

    • I “saw” all the green out my office window after reading the post you linked to. Thanks for reading and commenting.

  6. Very poignant post. Time passing is bittersweet to start with, and then the events of the last few weeks make it more so. Sounds as if you had a bit of an event yourself. I hope all is well.

    • Today, all is well. And that is good enough. Thanks for your concern, Susan.

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