HOW I WROTE ALL THE DAY’S DETAILS AND THEN THEY DISAPPEARED.
THIS is an ODE TO THE EPHEMERAL.
but i do recall there were things about the luminescing moon through the treetops on a clear night as seen from the porch
and there were things about darien’s cheesy greens which he learned to make at dandelion kitchen because if you put cheese on greens (in this case, spinach) it’s quite likely that the kiddos will eat them
and there was something about life/death regarding cockroaches who only seem to crawl along the trim in my room and how i smash them ruthlessly – without a farewell or a thank you or a sorry – but let this little stanza be all of those things
there was also something about the grub hoe. how i can get into that rhythm. how at another farm, i believe we called them ozarks.
and then, the moment i lost it all, i was reopening the post to write about the soothing of using the watercolors kate gave me to decprate the envelope addressed to my mom. how i should do that more often. how i feel kate (framed over by the tiny bouquet in the little nook) stir a little bit. how much i believe in how we keep each other alive long after our spirits have moved on from this world. (the sacredness of touching this object [blue and white case, 12 different patties of paint colors] that kate once touched).
and there were things about the little orange vinyl flags that flicker in the wind marking the furrows that are no longer furrows because the pearl-like edamame seeds are planted and covered there.