Not much need for extraneous explanation here, I'm afraid.
A busy Tuesday — plans and appointments — derailed when a 12-year-old bites down on a simple bagel…

Haiku 16

Today's best-laid plans
scuttled for a daughter's bite
and broken bracket

Today was a dark day that started brightly.
Or a bright day that ended badly.

Isn't that the way things like this go?

So often we don't know which miraculous or horrific things we'll meet on any given day.

Suddenly, a bright day in Boston — the streets packed with people from everywhere, celebrating the joy and determination, the strength and dedication, the deep tradition and utter wackiness that is a marathon — turns into sorrow and mayhem.

There's hardly a thing to say.
We have faith that justice will be served.
We have hope that goodness will prevail.
And we grieve the loss of lives and limbs and innocence.

I'm a runner of many, many years — too slow to ever make Boston but there in spirit.
This is wholly inadequate, but for now it's all I've got.

Haiku 15

Each time we lace up
it's a promise and a wish
to start and finish

My husband tries valiantly with his vegetables each year.

It's tricky.
We have a lot of shade trees.
We have a dog who digs.
We have hot sun and drought.

But he whistles and digs and weeds and whistles and culls until, inevitably, something always grows.

Aren't plants miraculous?
No wonder there are fairytales about them…

Haiku 14

My sweetheart is Jack
just waiting for his beanstalk.
The giant waits too.

When my sister and brother-in-law lived in East Africa, they had this awesome outdoor wok made for us.
It's called a marika and when we car camp (as opposed to backpack) we bring it with us.

It provides a lot of bang for the buck:
REALLY yummy easy cooking
A pretty impressive-looking feat
Fun

Haiku 13

Camping, end-of-day
Veggies on an open flame
Rainbow without rain

With a climate like ours, we can camp nearly all year round.
But, here's the thing. We don't.
We're busy.
Weekends fill up.
Time flies.

But this weekend we made it happen.
It was everything it was supposed to be.
Lucky us.

Haiku 12

Who needs the indoors
when it's spring time in Texas
and the trees are tall?

There was a time I could not believe I was buying a minivan.
What did it say about me, my life, my focus, my aesthetic, my rapidly-dimming hipness?

Nowadays, I just can't believe how old that minivan is.
How one of the automatic doors doesn't work anymore.
How full of dog hair it is, no matter the vacuuming.
How many many miles we've put on it driving across town and across country.

I think it's fair to say I'm fond of the dang thing and mourning her age a little.
There. I said it.

Haiku 11

So many long miles —
one hundred forty-six grand!
Maintenance required.

Things start early at our house, well before the sun comes up.
The cats cry to be fed, the pup wants a walk.
Gym clothes are missing. Permission slips need to be signed.

It's Wednesday, right smack-dab in the middle of the week, and we try to wipe the slate clean and call it morning.

Haiku 10

Wednesday rise and shine
with leftover Easter eggs
Each bite a fresh start

Sometimes when you're in a hurry there's nothing like a little time on the trail to slow you down.
Especially if a caterpillar's in your way.

Haiku 9

Today rushes by
This caterpillar comma
says hold up, slow down

I get a bad case of poison ivy nearly every spring — and it's usually thanks to my dogs or cats.
They go stomping through the woods, break the tender stalks and leaves, and come home dripping with the toxic oil.
I pet them. Naturally. That's just what I do.

It is hard to maintain suspicion, skepticism, fear or anger on a morning walk but poison ivy doesn't bring out the best in a girl.

Haiku 8

Oh, poison ivy —
fresh and pretty but so mean,
dusting the dog's coat.

Public art is nothing so much as a concrete expression of hope —
that beauty still matters, even in this mad, mad world…
that we as people can come together around it…
that there is value in pausing and breathing and taking note.

These pretty strings of glass buoys in a canal in Scottsdale said all that to me.

Haiku 7

Glass, light, reflection
punctuate the waterway,
say: pause, stop, wow, why.