Since I’ve been fully vaccinated for a month, I was certain my state would be at the 70% herd immunity rate by June 1st.
I was wrong.
In early June, I read an article in my local paper about three zip codes in my community that were well below the 70% 7-county metro area vaccination rate. What bummed me out the most was that I lived in one of them.
When the Minneapolis mayor lifted the mask mandate for businesses, the St Paul Mayor lifted our city’s mask mandate a few days later. In under a week, nobody needed to…
I saw a Monarch.
My spirits soared to the sky.
It plays with the daylily leaves
in the humid heat.
Awake, awake, living beings.
Is the butterfly as surprised as me?
It cruises the street,
stopping at columbines
Happy to be alive, as children running under a sprinkler.
Arise, my friends and neighbors.
Summer’s heat is upon us.
Spring’s joy is in spotlight.
Back from the fall and winter retreat.
We are not too late
to change the world.
One butterfly lifted the load
off my heart.
I’m not alone.
The native pollinators
Keep buzzing the message
I have a sister who is 21 months older than me. As young children, whenever we parted, we kissed each other goodbye and we hugged when we returned home. My mother put us in separate bedrooms, but by morning we were in the same bed. We couldn’t stand to be apart.
There’s a reason, but I didn’t discover it until I was eleven.
She had been diagnosed with autism early — around age three. She received early intervention services that enabled her to speak and interact socially.
She was placed in Catholic schools where nuns were the primary educators. At…
I’ve seen the past castings of my sister spiders.
They lurk in the corners of things forgotten.
I’m one of three.
But Beware. . .
There are multiples of me.
I’ve squandered my life on creatures
inhabiting a human host.
I’ve watched elaborate webs spun to entice the Heedless.
The intoxicating first bite brought them the elixir of immortality.
I’ve received many a bite and have the hives to prove it.
Don’t enter that House or
Climb the Attic Stairs.
If nothing else —
Bring your broom with you.
If you can’t sweep the…
A few weeks ago I had a busy Saturday. I was getting my first vaccine. Now I get it but didn’t at first. 5:00 pm and I needed to stock up since I didn’t know how woozy I’d feel after the shot.
At every place I stopped, the person in charge was under 25.
You know what? They are excellent at their jobs. I got clear directions and answers to all my questions.
My 98-year-old mother might be frail, but she is particular about food. That’s why I used the drive-through to get coffee and a chicken sandwich. …
Let me stay with the dried roses.
I’m not ready yet.
I can’t let go of loved ones.
A cherished tradition withered away this year.
The book club closed its doors.
Two members died.
Two members are teachers
who zoomed out.
I’ve said the words “Good Bye”
but my heart held back.
I’m fingering brittle petals
as my eyes linger at my shrine.
Mourning invades me like weeds
bending me low to the ground.
Removing the vigorous growth feels wrong —
Like I’m the executioner.
Yet when I stand up
I see the tulips and violets.
People brought these flowers…
I heard the clear tinkle of broken bisque when my lawnmower wheel tapped it. The ceramic frog cleaved in two. The painted black eyes no longer held the illusion of being connected.
It was inevitable.
Outside things are at risk to the weather, theft, and pranks.
One glazed eye stares up at the house. The other has silted below the surface, gazing at the organic world.
Why did I place it near the sidewalk?
I needed a bulwark against the weeds. Nothing deep has a chance of growing near concrete. Is it the freeze/thaw cycle of winter? …
I love being part of Medium. Really I do, but I’m tired of the huge articles on efficiency. Save those articles for business magazines. I’m here to gain new perspectives on the world. To wander through poetic juxtapositions and to learn.
In this last year, I’ve become as solitary as that mountain lion. Ready to pounce on any living thing. Not to eat, but to hear how their life is going and what they’ve learned from this grueling year of isolation.
These four writers plunge me into the depths of their compassion and their close observation of people and the…
Black and white squares, opaque to the light.
Sized small enough to not impose.
This is an everyday thing that few people bother with anymore.
They think they don’t need it.
I know better.
I’ve grabbed the corners with one hand, while I’ve placed beans, cherry tomatoes, or wild plums into its softness.
I’m experienced enough to know how to gather
the small harvest without crushing things.
And not to worry if plump juices pop.
I empty the contents into the colander with round holes and rinse.
Another every-day day thing that filters the bounty from the chaff.
You can put in a hardwood floor.
It will take planning, ingenuity, and patience. If you have the time, the stamina, and a team it is well worth it.
Wood is essential to my well being. Wood grows beautiful with age. Its patina comes from air, sunlight and being cared for. Wooden items can last for centuries.
A tree grows and when it’s large enough for lumber it is anywhere from 20 to 200 years old. When milled into planks, they become incredible items that outlast a human lifetime to be preserved for future generations to admire and to learn…