shards of ceramic
like stars across the counter
not a bowl I need
It was a funny Easter.
The eggs, it turns out, weren’t exactly hard-boiled.
And our pets were all afraid of the cobwebs (the string mazes our girls follow to get to their baskets).
And we were all so tired after a big week, we actually ended up at a Wimpy Kid matinee.
So it’s no surprise it culminated in a spectacular kitchen crash — a ramekin on the concrete kitchen counter.
Never mind, though.
Easter, pagan or Christian, is about fresh starts.
Right?
Another week with no real time at my desk.
A lovely problem to have.
So here, from my journal, are my haibuns….
4/20/2011
this head of romaine
a gargantuan bouquet
the whole world’s salad
Today’s veggie basket bore beets and turnips, spinach and radishes and the most spectacular head of lettuce I’ve ever seen in my life. Tonight, caesar salad for everyone!
4/21/2011
middle of the bridge
between bright birds and water
a piano waits
There is a public art project in Austin right now — 15 pianos set around town — in parks and on paths, near streets, atop bridges — there for the playing. When my mom and dad and I walked around the lake this morning, we passed three, stopped to play one, and then listened to a guy play a bluesy piece while his friend accompanied him on her accordion. And then we carried on…
4/22/2011
candy-colored dye
vinegar and white wax crayons
each egg a canvas
In spring, we read outside, eat outside, shuck corn, make crafts and take naps outside.
It’s too nice to waste, this weather.
So this morning, out we went with our little plastic cups of orange and turquoise and blue, and our hard-boiled eggs.
The squirrels worried and the wind blew and we created these shining little balls of light…
4/23/2011
missing cat is back
with matted hair, and limping
I wish he could talk
We have two old boy cats and one of them, in particular, is a wanderer. About once a year he’ll take off for a few days, we’ll worry that he’s gone for good, and then he’ll come trotting back in, meowing for food. This time it was a full week, and he’s older, and the days are hot and dry. I’d even posted on the neighborhood listserv and checked the animal shelter. No luck. Until tonight, when he arrived — looking as if he’d been on an epic journey. Skinny and beat up, but alive. It is so odd to wonder where he’s been and what he’s been through, and to know that we’ll never know…
Still catching up at my desk, adding haiku from this weekend.
The town has, after a flurried week, emptied itself of writers, editors, agents and librarians.
There’s an eerie quiet, which I suspect I’m meant to fill with work…
4/16/2011
Each oar dips and pulls
Each runner’s footfall answers.
Birds sit still and sing.
I’ve run around this lake hundreds of times before, but today with folks who haven’t, making it new to me, too.
4/17/2011
Sometimes, a whole grape —
puncturing skin with my teeth.
Sometimes, a grape’s wine.
Large gatherings, work or social, tend to pivot around meals.
The continental breakfast. The coffee.
The mid-morning lift, the lunch outside, and the dinner, a little too rich…
And then, before long, the next morning’s coffee again.
My daughter’s not home
Sky is dark and moon is high
I’m learning to breathe
For now, she’s just babysitting.
Next year, she will be at a party.
With her cell phone accidentally turned off.
And there will be a year abroad, or a boyfriend, or she might run out of gas.
And I will remember what it was to be her age.
I really, really hope I will remember…
This week I’ve been all caught up in the Texas Library Convention razz-matazz, so although I’ve written a haiku each day, I haven’t sat down to post them. So, delinquently, here are my Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday haikus:
4/12/2011
One million brown bats,
each one hungry for dinner.
It’s not me they want.
The bats have come home to Austin, stacked themselves in the bridge’s girders like eggs in a crate.
We stand watching, at sunset, as they come out en masse to follow the drone of bugs downstream.
4/13/2011
Dear Librarians,
Have some books and some chocolate.
It’s what you deserve.
There is something so comforting about being amongst thousands of librarians.
All of them working to put the right book in the right hands every single day.
4/14/2011
Parking garage troll —
are you laughing at me now?
I can’t find my car.
It was late at night after a very long day.
That’s my excuse for going to not just the wrong floor, but the wrong garage.
I’ve never done that before…
avocado pit
sends its taproot straight and deep
we all reach for home
My Small One is happily tending to an avocado pit in a jam jar on the kitchen counter.
This is a process that requires patience —
weeks for the root to break through and sink down into the water,
more time for the brown casing on the pit to slough off.
And the plant itself hasn’t even started yet.
And still.
She changes the water and reads the instructions we found online.
She mulls over whether she’ll transfer it into a pot or into the ground.
She calls it by name — Ava.
It is a living thing, emerging in front of our eyes.
And things like that are worth the wait.
This weekend has held about three weekends full of stuff. Communing with dear friends. Running. Dancing. Swimming. And my husband’s on a bobcat, right now, ripping up the front yard.
Sometimes it’s hard to know what to pay attention to… which little moments matter most…
4/9/11
who notices this? a child with a chicken, baby in his arms
4/10/11
each skirt blinks open each boot twinkles in the dark this sky full of stars
She wrote the middle line, above, and used it in a poem about origami. I’ve re-purposed it here, to fit the baby who visited today — a rosy 8-month-old who practiced standing at the coffee table and rolled across the rug and let me kiss her curls.
Babies are one of life’s delights… though the cats may disagree.
