Tulip people aren’t Crocus people. They don’t tweet out slapdash signals of spring at February’s first foray into the 50s. Tulip people are distinct from the Daffodil crowd— apart and unmoved, apparently unheralded by spring’s delirious drum majors and clamorous countryside. Tulip people aren’t Hyacinth hipsters or Snowdrop snobs, norContinue reading “Tulip People”
Tomato plants in late June
don’t smell like anything
tomato plants in late June.
Singular unto themselves
their redolence subsists…
It’s the morning after the gala, and even the Cherry admits she overdid it this year. The Lilac’s purple litter has fallen and faded, and the King’s crown lies in state. The canopy’s canvas is bourgeoning with green— twenty different shades of verdancy gleam in fourteen splendored hours of sunlight. The blushing boughs of AprilContinue reading “The Greens of May”
Dump Trip Saturday is sacred among Saturdays. It stands alone unto itself, unique and holy. Its rites and rituals are solitary and serene; their execution is communal (and clamorous!). . Dump Trip Saturday is always borne from Saturdays past: A pile of scraps after a completed project, appliances failed beyond repair, a neglected playhouse, aContinue reading “Dump Trip Saturday”