night rooster, somewhere in New Orleans
Thou hast nor youth nor age
But as it were an after dinner sleep
Dreaming of both.–T.S.Eliot
Headed out to sea next week.
My sister was a faithful reader of this page. So last time I had a wheelbarrow picture it
was titled “Our Father’s Wheelbarrow”.
Our father was not mechanical. He couldn’t fix a broken lawn mower. But he was Saint Francis
when it came to plants, he’d touch them and they’d grow. The wheelbarrow feels full of his energy.
Imagination? Dementia? Fond wishes? A combination of the three.
Planted a q.stellata, q. macrocarpa, q.falcata and a taxodium distichum…