Thursday, January 27, 2011

Camels in China

Annie was digging a hole. It was a hard job because she was five, and the only shovel she had was a big spoon from the kitchen drawer. The hole had to be very deep, because Annie was going to China.
Her Granny walked up and looked into the hole. “Why are you digging a hole in the backyard?” 
“I’m going to China to see the camels,” Annie explained.
“There are no camels in China,” said Granny. “Don’t get your clothes dirty.”
After she left, Annie started digging again. Her hole was so deep she could almost put her head in it. But she couldn’t see China yet. She kept digging.
Granny called her for lunch. She left her hole and went inside. “I can’t wait to get to China so I can ride a camel,” she said through a mouthful of peanut butter sandwich.
“There are no camels in China,” Granny said, rolling her eyes.
Annie went back outside. She peered into the dark hole. She couldn’t see China yet, but thought she could smell a camel.
Granny brought her a sweater. “Put this on, it’s getting cold.”
“Do the camels in China have one hump or two?” Annie asked, tugging at her sleeves.
Granny sighed.  “Annie, when you get to China—don’t forget to send me a photograph of you on a camel.”
“Sure,” Annie said--and she started digging again.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

6:00 A.M.

I am watching a liquid gold moon slide over the edge of the world to the west. Black tree skeletons try to grasp it and hold the night in place a little longer--but ancient as they are, they haven't the secret to stopping time.
The sun is climbing the eastern mountains, weaving pale pink and yellow ribbons through the clouds. I cling to the moments between night and day, silence and sound. In a few minutes the moon will vanish and the sun will arrive at my doorstep with the day's list of busy in its hand. Garbage trucks will spring to life, crashing and flatulating along the street, horns will blare, dogs bark and it will be time to face the day--the seduction of the silent moon a whisp of memory blown to the back of my mind by the early morning breeze.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Step Number One...Dream It.

Want to see exotic faraway places? Start dreaming. It's how you take the first step toward believing. And once you believe you'll do something...the rest is just paperwork. Who cares if you can't afford a foreign film--much less a foreign destination. Are you gonna let that stop you from dreaming about it? Roam the world on the internet, clip photos, read travel guides and novels set in that place you dream of. Learn the language they speak. Prepare their foods. Dream. Believe. When the time comes--and it will--you'll be ready. Until then, enjoy your armchair travels! Yes, that's me. Don't ask.

Thursday, January 6, 2011


People are always looking a the "big picture". Taking a "world view" of things.
I rather enjoy a narrow focus on life. Really seeing the little things that you miss if you drive by a meadow filled with pretty yellow flowers, stop for an obligatory photo op and move on to the next thing on your list. I'd rather spend time examining one piece of the world at a time, for as long as it takes to make its acquaintance.

Saturday, January 1, 2011

Second Chances

The bee was motionless, driven to the ground by January's chill breeze.  I placed my hand upon the cold mud of the riverbed and watched the tiny creature creep forward, drawn to the heat of my flesh. It clambered aboard and I lifted it into a slice of pale sunlight. It tasted me, carressed me with pointed antennae, explored the expanse of a finger. Soon the gossamer wings spread, shivered and buzzed. The bee darted away, returning to circle my head as if to share the excitement of a second chance.