Spots of Time

Nice day for a bike ride

2011-01-23T19:13:00.005-06:00

On the bike path this afternoon, I passed a tiny child of maybe four years old riding her tiny bike with tiny training wheels, blonde curls creeping out her pearly helmet. Her dad, a balding man of forty, scooted her off the path where her tiny wheels sunk slightly into the soggy ground. I slowed to pass. "A beautiful day for a bike ride," she said.

Wait a minute! How did she know it was a beautiful day for a bike ride? Having been alive only a few years, how many midwinter springs could she have experienced? How many early January snow melts? How many Sunday afternoons when one notices the days are, indeed, longer again? Was that just a phrase she was parroting from some courteous adult, or was she some sort of savant?

Whatever the case, she was right.

The Selway

2010-04-26T06:43:00.005-05:00

On the walk out this morning, I met a guy named Phil. We pawed the muddy path as we talked, looking down at our hiking boots. He wore an expensive set of binoculars on his shoulder and a blue shirt holed with tiny tears. He spoke with a southern drawl. "I love the sound," he said. "The world disappears back here."

It was his first time up the trail, he told me. He'd driven the twenty slow miles to the trailhead on a lark, and since it was such a nice day, he'd headed up the trail, following the river. "It's a whole different kinda world back here," he said.

We shook hands. I kept thinking about the worlds and the sound.

New Years

2009-12-31T18:39:00.004-06:00

These Days

whatever you have to say, leave
the roots on, let them
dangle

And the dirt

Just to make clear
where they come from

-Charles Olson

Spring Cleaning

2009-04-19T20:20:00.004-05:00

I'm in the process of updating and cleaning up my blog. Be back soon!