Blue windows in brickwork on 35th and St. Paul
photo by A. Graf

Train bridge full of graffiti in Miller Valley
photo by A. Graf

rusty double screws
photo by A. Graf

Goodbye and Thanks for All the Crickets!

I went outside to clean Trygve's enclosure this morning, removing the fake twigs and leaves and dumping a dozen or so cricket carcasses into the garden. It was such a lovely day, this last day of summer, and I felt it was time to let my mantid go. I carried him (or her, I really don't know) over to a climbing pile of morning glories at the edge of the patio and he walked off onto the leaves. I got my camera, of course, and took a number of parting shots, but eventually got busy mowing the lawn and tidying the garden. I checked back every so often and had to laugh at how far his head would swing around in this wide new world as I approached. Our schnauzer walked past and that triangular head swung around and down. My neighbor came out and over went the head again. What a lovely bug! After finishing the lawn and trimming the edges, I walked back towards the house and past the morning glories, but this last time I failed to find him.

Happy hunting, you odd, lovable bug. I wish you long life and lots to eat!

Bye, Mom - and thanks for all the crickets!
photo by A. Graf

Trygve climbs off into the wild. You're on your own now, big guy!
photo by A. Graf

Even my dog, who so obviously adores me, will accept food from a stranger.

Super sized jester greets baby at the Bristol Renaissance Faire
photo by A. Graf

A neighbor's window
photo by A. Graf

Window in a small building on the grounds of the Brookings Botanical Garden in Brookings, SD
photo by A. Graf

Road sign near Belgium, WI sort of makes you want to take a different route.
photo by A. Graf

Lucky You

Some days go from bad to worse.
Others go from bad to verse.
I'll spare you for now.

Clean the Raindrops

It began to rain on a Saturday afternoon
and my oldest son was bored.
I told him to go and clean his closet,
an idea that he dismissed at the end of a long litany of
Things He Would Rather Do.
My younger son overheard this discourse
and suggested I ask the older son to clean the raindrops instead.
This was such a lovely suggestion I knew it had to become a poem,
something along the lines of polishing stars, dusting rosebuds
or waxing the moon.

Cleaning a closet or cleaning a raindrop:
one and the same to a child.

Both of them completely unnecessary.
Both of them utterly impossible.