Colors on the bottom of a friend's boat, Elkart Lake, WI
photo by A. Graf
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Resurrection and Reappearances
It's almost Easter again and Christians around the world are reminded of the resurrection of Christ, rebirth and new life. I am reminded of something else.
My recently latent fears have been resurrected by a collection of 30 limbs radiating from a sleek and slender, striped little body clinging to the cinder block wall above the laundry sink in our basement tonight. That's her above. Remember last Easter Sunday morning? The day I learned that two-and-a-half dozen little grippers sometimes just isn't enough to keep a centipede on the wall? Oh, yeah. I'm thinking about Easter, all right. What was God thinking when he made these things? And why do they seem to be developing a habit of showing up at the most hopeful time of year?
My recently latent fears have been resurrected by a collection of 30 limbs radiating from a sleek and slender, striped little body clinging to the cinder block wall above the laundry sink in our basement tonight. That's her above. Remember last Easter Sunday morning? The day I learned that two-and-a-half dozen little grippers sometimes just isn't enough to keep a centipede on the wall? Oh, yeah. I'm thinking about Easter, all right. What was God thinking when he made these things? And why do they seem to be developing a habit of showing up at the most hopeful time of year?
Thursday, April 06, 2006
I Love Brussels Sprouts, But Barium I Can Do Without
A few years ago when we first invited James to come to dinner, I asked him if there were any foods that he couldn't eat or didn't like. He replied that there were indeed two things in life he simply would not eat: Brussels Sprouts and barium. I carefully avoided both of these in the evening's meal.
This morning I had my first upper GI and with it, my first taste of barium. I have to say it was not all that bad. I wouldn't want to drink it if I didn't have to, but it certainly wasn't as awful as some would make it seem. It was thick and chalky, yes, but thankfully bland, and I had no trouble swallowing it.
First, they gave me what basically amounted to a small dose of Pop Rocks. Then I chased that immediately with a thick barium shake. While I stood there gulping the glop, they took pictures of my suddenly gas-distended abdomen as the white goo slimed down my digestive tract. The attending physician pointed out a bunch of my interesting internal landmarks to the two radiology interns who were taking the x-rays and watching the journey down my throat on a monitor above my head.
Once this dose was down and the doctor was satisfied with the pictures, I was carefully tilted back down onto my back, rolled gently from side to side to allow the gunk to fully coat all sides of my innards, and then x-rayed from various degrees around my body. Halfway through this I also had to drink another larger cup of thinner barium. This was slightly more difficult as I was already full of gas bubbles and the thicker first serving, but I managed okay, only dribbling a little onto the table and pillow. More photos and then it was over.
One of the nurses handed me a warm, wet washcloth to wipe the white residue off my lips. I hadn't realized I had made such a pig of myself. Got barium?
Monday, April 03, 2006
Time Warp
A friend just forwarded me an e-mail in which it is explained that on Wednesday of this week at two minutes and three seconds after one o'clock it will be 01:02:03 04/05/06.
Reading this e-mail, I was transported back in time to Camp LuWiSoMo on the shores of Round Lake, where I attended a weekend retreat in middle school. Our youth pastor at the time, Pastor Chuck, made us count down the seconds until the clock struck 12:34 pm, making the time and date read 12:34 5/6/78. I have always remembered this. I think at the time Pastor Chuck must have hoped we would.
Reading this e-mail, I was transported back in time to Camp LuWiSoMo on the shores of Round Lake, where I attended a weekend retreat in middle school. Our youth pastor at the time, Pastor Chuck, made us count down the seconds until the clock struck 12:34 pm, making the time and date read 12:34 5/6/78. I have always remembered this. I think at the time Pastor Chuck must have hoped we would.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Wet Sunday
We tried to take a family hike today out at Lapham Peak State Park. Even bought our annual sticker. The skies started misting on the drive out and it was a regular spring shower by the time we hit the parking lot near the observation tower. Rats.
The kids fought the entire way back to town. By the time we pulled up in front of our house, my husband and I were ready to kick the kids out of the van and speed off by ourselves. Instead, he kept them in the vehicle and gave them a talking-to while I grabbed the tripod I hadn't been able to use in the park and my macro lens to shoot the first wet blooms of spring in our own front yard.
The kids fought the entire way back to town. By the time we pulled up in front of our house, my husband and I were ready to kick the kids out of the van and speed off by ourselves. Instead, he kept them in the vehicle and gave them a talking-to while I grabbed the tripod I hadn't been able to use in the park and my macro lens to shoot the first wet blooms of spring in our own front yard.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
The article below gave me a chuckle. I have no fear for how God feels on the subject, but I do wonder what he thinks. I still believe in prayer, always for the sake of the prayee, but maybe even more for the wellbeing of the prayer.
We've all heard it said how vast and immeasurable God is, how far above are his thoughts from our own. Even if we could tell him what to do, would we be better off persuading him? I love that he knows what to do. I also love that I can tell him what I want, or what I feel. I can trust him to do what is best, the perfect part of a perfect prayer being the submission itself to his will.
Finally, someone I can really trust. I didn't say understand, but that's okay for now.
We've all heard it said how vast and immeasurable God is, how far above are his thoughts from our own. Even if we could tell him what to do, would we be better off persuading him? I love that he knows what to do. I also love that I can tell him what I want, or what I feel. I can trust him to do what is best, the perfect part of a perfect prayer being the submission itself to his will.
Finally, someone I can really trust. I didn't say understand, but that's okay for now.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Does God Believe in Humans?
By MALCOLM RITTER, AP Science Writer 3-30-06
NEW YORK - In the largest study of its kind, researchers found that having people pray for heart bypass surgery patients had no effect on their recovery. In fact, patients who knew they were being prayed for had a slightly higher rate of complications.
Researchers emphasized that their work can't address whether God exists or answers prayers made on another's behalf. The study can only look for an effect from prayers offered as part of the research, they said.
They also said they had no explanation for the higher complication rate in patients who knew they were being prayed for, in comparison to patients who only knew it was possible prayers were being said for them.
Critics said the question of God's reaction to prayers simply can't be explored by scientific study.
The work, which followed about 1,800 patients at six medical centers, was financed by the Templeton Foundation, which supports research into science and religion. It will appear in the American Heart Journal.
Dr. Herbert Benson of Harvard Medical School and other scientists tested the effect of having three Christian groups pray for particular patients, starting the night before surgery and continuing for two weeks. The volunteers prayed for "a successful surgery with a quick, healthy recovery and no complications" for specific patients, for whom they were given the first name and first initial of the last name.
The patients, meanwhile, were split into three groups of about 600 apiece: those who knew they were being prayed for, those who were prayed for but only knew it was a possibility, and those who weren't prayed for but were told it was a possibility.
The researchers didn't ask patients or their families and friends to alter any plans they had for prayer, saying such a step would have been unethical and impractical.
The study looked for any complications within 30 days of the surgery. Results showed no effect of prayer on complication-free recovery. But 59 percent of the patients who knew they were being prayed for developed a complication, versus 52 percent of those who were told it was just a possibility.
Dr. Harold G. Koenig, director of the Center for Spirituality, Theology and Health at the Duke University Medical Center, who didn't take part in the study, said the results didn't surprise him.
"There are no scientific grounds to expect a result and there are no real theological grounds to expect a result either," he said. "There is no god in either the Christian, Jewish or Moslem scriptures that can be constrained to the point that they can be predicted."
Within the Christian tradition, God would be expected to be concerned with a person's eternal salvation, he said, and "why would God change his plans for a particular person just because they're in a research study?"
Science, he said, "is not designed to study the supernatural."
NEW YORK - In the largest study of its kind, researchers found that having people pray for heart bypass surgery patients had no effect on their recovery. In fact, patients who knew they were being prayed for had a slightly higher rate of complications.
Researchers emphasized that their work can't address whether God exists or answers prayers made on another's behalf. The study can only look for an effect from prayers offered as part of the research, they said.
They also said they had no explanation for the higher complication rate in patients who knew they were being prayed for, in comparison to patients who only knew it was possible prayers were being said for them.
Critics said the question of God's reaction to prayers simply can't be explored by scientific study.
The work, which followed about 1,800 patients at six medical centers, was financed by the Templeton Foundation, which supports research into science and religion. It will appear in the American Heart Journal.
Dr. Herbert Benson of Harvard Medical School and other scientists tested the effect of having three Christian groups pray for particular patients, starting the night before surgery and continuing for two weeks. The volunteers prayed for "a successful surgery with a quick, healthy recovery and no complications" for specific patients, for whom they were given the first name and first initial of the last name.
The patients, meanwhile, were split into three groups of about 600 apiece: those who knew they were being prayed for, those who were prayed for but only knew it was a possibility, and those who weren't prayed for but were told it was a possibility.
The researchers didn't ask patients or their families and friends to alter any plans they had for prayer, saying such a step would have been unethical and impractical.
The study looked for any complications within 30 days of the surgery. Results showed no effect of prayer on complication-free recovery. But 59 percent of the patients who knew they were being prayed for developed a complication, versus 52 percent of those who were told it was just a possibility.
Dr. Harold G. Koenig, director of the Center for Spirituality, Theology and Health at the Duke University Medical Center, who didn't take part in the study, said the results didn't surprise him.
"There are no scientific grounds to expect a result and there are no real theological grounds to expect a result either," he said. "There is no god in either the Christian, Jewish or Moslem scriptures that can be constrained to the point that they can be predicted."
Within the Christian tradition, God would be expected to be concerned with a person's eternal salvation, he said, and "why would God change his plans for a particular person just because they're in a research study?"
Science, he said, "is not designed to study the supernatural."
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
A More Pleasant Way to Die
Did that title get your attention?
My younger daughter had to write a paper on smoking. She asked me to type it for her. In it, she mentioned that cigarettes contained liquor, not licorice, and that liquor was bad for you.
I explained to her what tobacco and nicotine were and she lit up immediately, "Oh, yeah! That's what I meant. Can we change liquor to nicotine?"
I made the changes and then saw that she had written, "Over 100 people have died from smoking." After a trip to Google, we changed that to, "Over four million people die around the world every year as a result of smoking." That figure does not include deaths related to second-hand smoke.
I had two chocolate almond Dove ice cream bars today and one slice of homemade coconut pie. Though not really good for me, that was so much more pleasant than smoking a bunch of cigarettes.
My younger daughter had to write a paper on smoking. She asked me to type it for her. In it, she mentioned that cigarettes contained liquor, not licorice, and that liquor was bad for you.
I explained to her what tobacco and nicotine were and she lit up immediately, "Oh, yeah! That's what I meant. Can we change liquor to nicotine?"
I made the changes and then saw that she had written, "Over 100 people have died from smoking." After a trip to Google, we changed that to, "Over four million people die around the world every year as a result of smoking." That figure does not include deaths related to second-hand smoke.
I had two chocolate almond Dove ice cream bars today and one slice of homemade coconut pie. Though not really good for me, that was so much more pleasant than smoking a bunch of cigarettes.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Monday, March 20, 2006
My Favorite Day of the Year
By 1:26 pm today, Spring will have officially arrived, even if in name only. This is truly my favorite day of the year. I don't know if it means that much to those of you in milder climes, but here in the Midwest it represents all that is hopeful, beautiful and good. The sky may be overcast, as it is here today, and the air may remain chilly for weeks to come, as it is today, but we know beyond all doubt that the good stuff is closer than it was before!
I am just beginning to notice the leaves of the earliest bulbs poking up from the ground in south-facing gardens. Some years I have had crocus actually blooming in late February, but not this year. Thin carpets of snow remain in the shadow footprints on the north side of bushes and houses, but otherwise the ground is mostly clear. Within the space of just one month, we will be blooming all over the place. I almost forget each year what forsythia looks like, which is one of the blessings of our climate - to have the time and space to mourn, then be rewarded with warmth, color and scent as if for the first time each spring. I love it. I love the anticipation of it almost as much as I love the actual blooms. It can only get better from here on out!
I am just beginning to notice the leaves of the earliest bulbs poking up from the ground in south-facing gardens. Some years I have had crocus actually blooming in late February, but not this year. Thin carpets of snow remain in the shadow footprints on the north side of bushes and houses, but otherwise the ground is mostly clear. Within the space of just one month, we will be blooming all over the place. I almost forget each year what forsythia looks like, which is one of the blessings of our climate - to have the time and space to mourn, then be rewarded with warmth, color and scent as if for the first time each spring. I love it. I love the anticipation of it almost as much as I love the actual blooms. It can only get better from here on out!
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
The Goods, Delivered to My Feet
I like to walk and I like to find things as I go. When we used to live on the East Side, I would often find money. The East Side was very good for loose change. The population is denser and many more people over there either go by foot or dig in their pockets for meter money, dropping it into snowbanks to be found weeks or months later by people like me, not above stooping down to pick up a dirty penny, even in the middle of the road.
One year I decided to conduct a little experiment. I began keeping track of exactly how much money I found, putting each month's cache into its own plastic film canister. I only found one piece of paper money that year, a single dollar bill in the road on Cramer Street near the engineering building on campus - I believe it was in March. Why I remember these things, I don't know. By the end of the year, I had eight dollars and fifty-eight cents, all in coins save the one dollar. Of course, my husband, in the span of the same year, found $5.00 outside our apartment building one morning and another $20.00 in front of the frame shop where he was working. Go figure.
I bring this up because this past week has been a very good one for finding things. First, I found a one-pound box of PrimeGuard phillips-head 3.5-inch exterior screws that were inadvertantly dropped and then run over by any number of vehicles in our alley right behind our house. I can use those. A few days later in the cemetary, I found a small, threaded brass finial, shaped like a chess pawn, shiny and heavy in the hand.
This morning, I found a 1 by 1.5-inch chunk of purple amethyst crystal by the sidewalk near the park. Certainly not an autochthonous gem, a child somewhere is missing her treasure.
One year I decided to conduct a little experiment. I began keeping track of exactly how much money I found, putting each month's cache into its own plastic film canister. I only found one piece of paper money that year, a single dollar bill in the road on Cramer Street near the engineering building on campus - I believe it was in March. Why I remember these things, I don't know. By the end of the year, I had eight dollars and fifty-eight cents, all in coins save the one dollar. Of course, my husband, in the span of the same year, found $5.00 outside our apartment building one morning and another $20.00 in front of the frame shop where he was working. Go figure.
I bring this up because this past week has been a very good one for finding things. First, I found a one-pound box of PrimeGuard phillips-head 3.5-inch exterior screws that were inadvertantly dropped and then run over by any number of vehicles in our alley right behind our house. I can use those. A few days later in the cemetary, I found a small, threaded brass finial, shaped like a chess pawn, shiny and heavy in the hand.
This morning, I found a 1 by 1.5-inch chunk of purple amethyst crystal by the sidewalk near the park. Certainly not an autochthonous gem, a child somewhere is missing her treasure.
Monday, March 13, 2006
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Monday, February 27, 2006
Sunday, February 26, 2006
On a Gooder Note
We heard a man speak today at church about his recent visit to India. He has travelled a bit and is always impressed by how many foreigners are willing and able to speak English and, conversely, how few of us Americans speak any foreign languages.
"Most Americans only speak English, and we don't even do that very good."
Well, I believe he's right.
"Most Americans only speak English, and we don't even do that very good."
Well, I believe he's right.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Tales of Damage in the Name of Christ
There are attacks on Christ and his church reported daily, hourly, in newspapers around the globe - from super left-wing radical this and thats, Muslim extremists, liberal atheists and just plain outright haters - but some of the worst damage seems to emanate directly from those who claim to love and follow our Lord himself. Anyone who claims to be a Christian can, and frankly often does, wittingly or unwittingly, fall into this category, but the sins committed in the name of Jesus carry the extra special ability to distort and maim not only fellow humans, but the very vessel through which we hope to use to reach them, namely the church body itself.
My love for Jesus is often visibly muted in an effort to dissociate from the common representation of his church. Of course, I am no better than the lowliest of the low, this very acknowledgement requisite to membership in the family of Christ, but I am also keenly aware of the embarrassments of my extended family. I cringe at the gullibility of Christians on the radio to buy into all sorts of health scams and money-making schemes, the environmentally irresponsible and ignorant attitudes of those specifically entrusted with caring for God's marvelous creation, the judgmental posturing, homogeneous expectations and the ethno- and geo-centric narrowmindedness of the American Christian Church in general.
Christ has been lost in the shuffle, pushed aside for the latest program or protest. Love has been limited to proper social circles, sexual orientations or political beliefs. Even Christian worship has become prescribed, mass produced and dull.
I am certainly not beyond reproach and know that I am simply ranting. My own heart needs as much forgiveness as those whose generalities I rail against. I in no way believe that we can just choose whatever is comfortable for us in the Bible and live by those things and reject the dictates of our Lord that make us uncomfortable. That would be equally ignorant. Yet other than God's truths made known through nature and science all around us, we, as God's creatures, are the best advertisement he's got for the love the Christ - and we can so easily paint a very frightening, unappealing and even evil looking picture!
Where is the love of Christ? Where are the repentant hearts and minds bent on reconciliation and peace? When our Lord returns, what will he find in us, in those who claim to love and obey him?
My love for Jesus is often visibly muted in an effort to dissociate from the common representation of his church. Of course, I am no better than the lowliest of the low, this very acknowledgement requisite to membership in the family of Christ, but I am also keenly aware of the embarrassments of my extended family. I cringe at the gullibility of Christians on the radio to buy into all sorts of health scams and money-making schemes, the environmentally irresponsible and ignorant attitudes of those specifically entrusted with caring for God's marvelous creation, the judgmental posturing, homogeneous expectations and the ethno- and geo-centric narrowmindedness of the American Christian Church in general.
Christ has been lost in the shuffle, pushed aside for the latest program or protest. Love has been limited to proper social circles, sexual orientations or political beliefs. Even Christian worship has become prescribed, mass produced and dull.
I am certainly not beyond reproach and know that I am simply ranting. My own heart needs as much forgiveness as those whose generalities I rail against. I in no way believe that we can just choose whatever is comfortable for us in the Bible and live by those things and reject the dictates of our Lord that make us uncomfortable. That would be equally ignorant. Yet other than God's truths made known through nature and science all around us, we, as God's creatures, are the best advertisement he's got for the love the Christ - and we can so easily paint a very frightening, unappealing and even evil looking picture!
Where is the love of Christ? Where are the repentant hearts and minds bent on reconciliation and peace? When our Lord returns, what will he find in us, in those who claim to love and obey him?
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Oh, deer . . .
After school on Friday we all piled into the van and headed up the coast to Grandma's house in Door County. My husband chose the lakeshore route and drove until Two Rivers, where I took over. Coming up the hill out of Kewaunee, the speed limit sign told me I could push the resume button on the cruise control to get back up to 55 miles per hour. About five seconds later, still gaining speed, two large deer stepped out of the darkness onto the road directly in front of the van. I slammed on the brakes and then WHAM! - we broadsided the second deer. Dean had fallen asleep in the passenger seat, but he awoke as soon as I hit the brakes, just in time to glimpse a large brown eye in front of his face. No one inside the van was hurt.
Laura says she saw the deer fly up in the air and land in the field to our right. I managed to stop about 20 feet after impact and pulled off the road to have a look at the damages. Thankfully there were no other vehicles around. The front end was smashed up pretty nicely and the hood was pushed into a little tent shape. The passenger side headlamp housing was shattered, but the light was still working. No sign of the deer, except for it's fur sticking all over the front of the van. I got back in and we drove the rest of the way to Grandma's house without further incident, though I annoyed more than one driver by going only 40-50 miles per hour at best.
These latest photos were all taken on Saturday during this trip. We didn't find out until about 10 minutes into our 3.5 hour return drive that the radiator had been damaged and we were without heat. It was a very, very cold ride home. We fought over who would get to hold the dog for heat. I won.
Laura says she saw the deer fly up in the air and land in the field to our right. I managed to stop about 20 feet after impact and pulled off the road to have a look at the damages. Thankfully there were no other vehicles around. The front end was smashed up pretty nicely and the hood was pushed into a little tent shape. The passenger side headlamp housing was shattered, but the light was still working. No sign of the deer, except for it's fur sticking all over the front of the van. I got back in and we drove the rest of the way to Grandma's house without further incident, though I annoyed more than one driver by going only 40-50 miles per hour at best.
These latest photos were all taken on Saturday during this trip. We didn't find out until about 10 minutes into our 3.5 hour return drive that the radiator had been damaged and we were without heat. It was a very, very cold ride home. We fought over who would get to hold the dog for heat. I won.
Friday, February 03, 2006
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Monday, January 30, 2006
Giant Backyard Annual Sundial
I took this photo of our backyard today around 9 am. What interests me is the line where the snow decided to melt instead of sticking to the brick walkway. Although there has not been sun since Friday, the northern (far) section of walk still has more warmth than the part of the path closest to the house, which remains in perpetual winter shade. There is a definite line where the snow is melting on only the bricks that have had the luxury of sun in recent days.
On our old concrete sidewalk, replaced about five years ago by brick, I had painted two lines showing where the sun reached over our roof on the shortest and longest days of the year at high noon. The difference between those two marks was around 50 feet. I will have to remember to draw those lines again on the upcoming summer and winter solstices, capturing a sort of seasonal clock with the sun and the roof of our house. I love this stuff.
On our old concrete sidewalk, replaced about five years ago by brick, I had painted two lines showing where the sun reached over our roof on the shortest and longest days of the year at high noon. The difference between those two marks was around 50 feet. I will have to remember to draw those lines again on the upcoming summer and winter solstices, capturing a sort of seasonal clock with the sun and the roof of our house. I love this stuff.
Monday, January 23, 2006
This weekend in my refrigerator I pulled out a buttermilk carton with a "sell by" date of November 2, 2004. I think I'm turning into my mother.
I just finished a very interesting book entitled Nice Dreads: Hair Care Basics and Inspiration for Colored Girls Who've Considered Locking Their Hair. Now that I read this book, I know I have to give up, once and for all, my strong desire for something more substantial on my head than Marsha Brady's fine, limp locks in a dull, mousy brown. I love the look of dreads, but it ain't happenin' here. The best I can do for myself is more therapy for severe hair envy syndrome.
I just finished a very interesting book entitled Nice Dreads: Hair Care Basics and Inspiration for Colored Girls Who've Considered Locking Their Hair. Now that I read this book, I know I have to give up, once and for all, my strong desire for something more substantial on my head than Marsha Brady's fine, limp locks in a dull, mousy brown. I love the look of dreads, but it ain't happenin' here. The best I can do for myself is more therapy for severe hair envy syndrome.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Rust: Reflections of it and on it
I spent a lovely afternoon today with my dad, wandering around downtown with our cameras. I apologize for so many photos of the Milwaukee River, but it was particularly captivating to me this afternoon. Let it be known that I could have posted dozens more, but I restrained myself.
There is such beauty in the common things around us if we can learn to see it. I hope that when you look at some of these very ordinary, even lowly objects or things we might consider eyesores in general, you can see them in a new way and appreciate the forms within the forms.
I nearly froze my uncovered ears off today, but it was worth it.
There is such beauty in the common things around us if we can learn to see it. I hope that when you look at some of these very ordinary, even lowly objects or things we might consider eyesores in general, you can see them in a new way and appreciate the forms within the forms.
I nearly froze my uncovered ears off today, but it was worth it.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Thursday, January 5, 2006
Workmen put the finishing touches on a freshly dug grave as I walk by the large cemetery near our house this cold, gray afternoon. There must be a mile of chainlink along this road, between our home and the bank. Wire fencing to keep the dead in. Between headstones there is mainly just cropped, winter-sleeping grass, but every so often I pass under a juniper tree. They are planted along the fence here and there, in clumped lines of three or five. A lot of garbage collects here, pushing itself up against the foot of the fence. Motorists toss all sorts of crap out of their vehicles as they speed by – cans, bottles, junk food wrappers, cardboard boxes, condoms, snuff containers and cigarette wrappers, cellophane, paper and plastic grocery bags. It all finds its way onto the slim strip of grass that extends about a foot beyond the fence, next to the sidewalk. Mixed in with the detritus are small, blue pearls, clustered in the places where the shadows of juniper trees would be were there any sun. I stop to gather a handful. I rub them together in my gloved hands and breathe in their Christmassy scent.
I keep walking until I near the last group of scraggly trees, and there I stop again and add a few more juniper berries to my collection. At the corner, where the fence turns west and so do I, a funeral procession advances through the intersection, headlights glowing and little flags on each hood. I wonder if they’re going to stop at the new grave I just passed. It’s a good day for a burial: cold, but not bitter; slate-gray sky, but no rain. There are fragrant junipers near the grave.
I carry the berries home and put them in a small, white, Japanese-style teacup. I crush them a bit with my fingers and inhale again, deeply.
I keep walking until I near the last group of scraggly trees, and there I stop again and add a few more juniper berries to my collection. At the corner, where the fence turns west and so do I, a funeral procession advances through the intersection, headlights glowing and little flags on each hood. I wonder if they’re going to stop at the new grave I just passed. It’s a good day for a burial: cold, but not bitter; slate-gray sky, but no rain. There are fragrant junipers near the grave.
I carry the berries home and put them in a small, white, Japanese-style teacup. I crush them a bit with my fingers and inhale again, deeply.
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