March 2011

Staring at my neglected blog, it slowly dawned upon me that the last postings were made almost one year ago.

Spring seems to blow about and on that stout breeze stirs sedentary leaves and dormant thoughts.

There's a Chinook wind blowing this 3/19/2011 eve with the promise of a glorious full moon in perigee. The wind, however, blew my comforters off the line and played mischief with loose trash from neighboring yards most of which ended up snagged and thoroughly bound to our heritage wild-rose hedge. I adore this hedge but these wild roses have 1/2" long thorns which behave a bit like tentacles, grabbing breeze-floating flotsom and jetsom, pinning plastic grocery bags to its bosom as tightly as if it were bounty from a Pirate vessel.

Extracting this "booty" of baggies is a painful, bloodletting, ceremony. Mike is sure that all our roses are "out to get him" and he threatens to bring in the Bobcat to run them all over.

Yet, 16 years later, they remain.

This evening with its whimsy-moon and warm, Spring, mischiefmaking breeze, reminds me of a song I love dearly written and sung by Harry Nilsson: The Moonbeam Song.