Archive for July, 2018


July 15, 2018 Leave a comment

Growing up, a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich was one of my lunchtime favorites.

I don’t know why, and I don’t even remember when, but somewhere between my teenage years and my 50’s, I stopped having jelly in my peanut butter sandwiches. Once every long while, I would even buy a jar of jelly, but then never actually open the fridge to get it when making a sandwich.

Then one day recently, and again I can’t explain why, I went ahead and added jelly to my lunchtime peanut butter sandwich. It tasted so good, I actually said aloud, “Why did I ever stop doing this??”

poem: summer moon

July 4, 2018 Leave a comment

summer moon rises late:
the waning crescent carries
tomorrow’s morning

It used to be, before clocks, that people could tell time at night by being aware of the phase of the moon. The lighted part of the moon always points toward the sun — as an easy example, a full moon rises opposite to the setting sun, is at its highest point at midnight, and sets at sunrise.

One night, after a hot day, we had stayed up quite late waiting for it to be cool enough to go for a dog walk. As we walked, I noticed the crescent moon rising in the east, a thick curve with upturned points, and I realized that meant the rising sun was trailing  not so many hours behind it. And the light I was seeing in that crescent was actually tomorrow morning’s sunlight, already giving a hint of the new day’s coming heat.

last day of staycation

July 1, 2018 Leave a comment

One final “home project” for this last day of our staycation week: weeding the driveway.  It’s pretty hard-packed pebbles, good for absorbing the winter rains, but over the years plenty of tiny weeds, clumps of grass, etc have taken root. It’s warm but not hot today, so I put on a sunhat, start the poetry podcast playlist on my iPod, grab a bucket, sit down on a short stool, and start picking.

Every few minutes, having pulled every weed in reach, I shift the stool a couple of feet and continue. It becomes a rhythm, practically a meditation.

Some oregano from the herb garden in the corner by the sidewalk has started to put out new sprouts into the driveway. I decide to leave them alone, and let it continue to spread where it can — I’ve noticed a pleasant Mediterranean crushed-herb scent lately whenever I get out of the car, which seems like a good thing. The white and purple clovers as well, I leave alone. The bees like them, and I use the green strips as a target in the rear view mirror when backing into the driveway.