From www.poets.org: Hum
by Ann Lauterbach
The days are beautiful The days are beautiful. I know what days are. The other is weather. I know what weather is. The days are beautiful. Things are incidental. Someone is weeping. I weep for the incidental. The days are beautiful. Where is tomorrow? Everyone will weep. Tomorrow was yesterday. The days are beautiful. Tomorrow was yesterday. Today is weather. The sound of the weather Is everyone weeping. Everyone is incidental. Everyone weeps. The tears of today Will put out tomorrow. The rain is ashes. The days are beautiful. The rain falls down. The sound is falling. The sky is a cloud. The days are beautiful. The sky is dust. The weather is yesterday. The weather is yesterday. The sound is weeping. What is this dust? The weather is nothing. The days are beautiful. The towers are yesterday. The towers are incidental. What are these ashes? Here is the hate That does not travel. Here is the robe That smells of the night Here are the words Retired to their books Here are the stones Loosed from their settings Here is the bridge Over the water Here is the place Where the sun came up Here is a season Dry in the fireplace. Here are the ashes. The days are beautiful.

Five years ago today the guy who thought it would be a good idea to invade a country that posed no threat stood on board the aircraft carrier Abraham Lincoln, all gussied up in a flight suit, and declared "Mission Accomplished."

To this day he keeps trying to fool us all into thinking his ideas are good ones.  The sad thing to me is that many people still think they are.

Last year I purchased 26 strawberry plants.  I waited too long to plant them.  I did not water them enough.  The turkeys dug for grubs in their bed.  After a few weeks we had maybe ten plants.  A few weeks later we had half a dozen.  By the end of the summer we had only three.  Then I accidently dug one up.

I wanted to try again.  I bought twenty plants at a local nursery a couple of weeks ago.  I could have paid as much for more than twice as many plants through the mail, but they would have had to be all the same variety.  I got two varieties from the nursery.  We also had a few alpine strawberries in an established bed (not all that healthy but they did produce a handful of tiny berries last year).  I dug up the bed around those existing alpine plants, dumped on compost, planted the new plants, transplanted the two remaining from last year, and we have a new bed o' berries.

And then we got more frost.  I knew that would happen.  Planting anything in April around here means be ready for it to freeze.  I did remember to cover them two nights in a row.  Then I forgot to do that last night.  I rose early and checked out our strawberry plant situation.  The leaves were frosted, but it was a light frost, I told myself.

They were just fine this evening.

I dug up a few dandelions and other stubborn trespassers in a nearby bed, with the trowel I finally found tossed by one of my children into the rhododendron bushes.  I hung out in the rain in my Crocs, muddy fingers dripping while the children made mud cakes, but then it was time to get the tykes ready for bed.  I was solo with them tonight and so forgot all about the berries until after dark.

We are not going to get frost tonight.  It is raining and it won't get cold enough.  No need to cover up those tender puppies.  I am hoping things work out better this year.  We had a few berries but not enough for a bowlful or a smoothie or a pie.  If not this year, maybe in the future.  i would like to get enough to freeze, and I'm talking berries in the freezer not leaves near the ground.

We asked the high school senior who lives down the road to come watch our children this morning so my wife and I could go for a run.  It was raining.  We went anyway.

We ran eleven miles, on a loop with little pavement.  We got wet.  It was beautiful.  Leaves are unfurling from buds.  Daffodils bloom.  The air smelled of mud and grass. 

I got tired and hungry.  It felt great.  I wore new trail shoes made with Gortex.  My feet stayed dry.  It was my first run with those shoes.  It is a good thing they fit well.  I might have gotten blisters.

My total mileage for the week is thirty miles.  I haven't had a thirty mile week since 2002.  I feel slightly tired but mostly I feel good.  I feel strong.  I had some calf pain a couple of weeks ago.  I felt that a little today but I was pain free when we returned home.  My back felt to notch.

It was Green Up Day today.  That is a Vermont event where people all over the state help pick up the winter's trash from road sides and rivers and wherever.  We saw a good number of people out with the bright green trash bags towns hand out for the day.  We thanked them all.  We pulled a couple of tires from the river bank and rolled them up to the roadside to be picked up.  At least we did something.

I will take tomorrow off.  We have a funeral to attend.  It will not be a day for running.  It looks to rain again.  There will be tears as well.  I will pick up running again next week.  We both will.

THESE GRANDFATHERS

You read me your first poem:
your grandfather dying,
your mother crying;
the night cold, the sky big,
the moon sharp and mean.
Those first words were a blanket;
your only warmth except tears.

Walking home tonight, the rain
has stopped, the sky is soft.
Electric light makes pillars
of fog.  I cannot see the moon
or stars, but the fog shines.
I walk in the white of the night.

I once lived a grandfather dying too.
In the deli across from the funeral
home I drank milkshakes, stared
past streetlamps. The stars
filled the sky that night,
rotating slowly over Pawtucket. 

Curious, these grandfathers dying.
Young grandsons staring down
the heavens, trying to pull answers
from the universe. Do they wander,
we wonder, outside dewed windows? 
Do they mourn for the living?
Do they wrap themselves in the moon,
paint us gentle white,
moisten our wonder
with the tall fog of the night? 

Yesterday morning about twenty of us stood around a small hole in the ground, saying goodbye.  The sky was gray.  Half the group was children, the youngest three years old. 

Some poetry, some silence, some tears.  No one wanted to say goodbye quite yet, but it was time.  We did not stay long.  All of us will be back over the days and years.  This death became real for me then.

I planted some seeds after that.  It made things feel more complete.  I felt I was planting in part out of respect.  I helped lower the box of ashes into the ground at the cemetery.  It felt surprisingly heavy.  I guess I was expecting the lightness of ashes that comes from burning wood.  The seeds blew out of my hands in the breeze.  Now, both lie under soil.  One is the remains of a life, an end.  The other has just begun.

The memorial service was simple.  Some simple words, some poetry, many people.  We ate and connected and remembered.  We watched slides of a life well lived.  Again, tears.  How often do we get to see how many people love us?  If we live well, our lives ripple out and touch the others' ripples.  If we live well, the ripples join into waves of change and growth and happiness.  Some waves washed ashore yesterday.

I slept little last night.  I was sad.  I grieved in my half-sleep.  Again, yesterday's remembrances made this more real for me than it has been.  It truly felt as if I were saying goodbye.  When I took the spade to toss the damp dirt onto my mother-in-law's remains, as all there took a turn in doing, I said simply, "Goodbye, Pammy." 

In my mind, I heard her voice, as she spoke so many times when I was the one to answer her phone call, pop out "Oh! Hello."  She always sounded surprised that I was the one to answer.  Yesterday, when I mentally heard the utterance I had heard so many times, I paused just for a moment.  I felt as I had when I was about to embark on one of so many conversations. 

Maybe there is a beginning here, too.

Another Tuesday of voting in the Democratic primary business and another day to wonder who will come out with the nomination.  I think this is a fine display of democracy in action.  States that vote as late as Indiana and North Carolina actually matter.  Even Guam, which voted recently, has added to the mix this time.

The problem is that so many people, on television, on radio, in newspapers and in blogs, and elsewhere, keep talking about how bad this is for the Democratic party, how they keep beating each other up and are making Democrats look bad in general.  I think this is only true because, but talking about it so much, we are making it true.  I also think that if it is true, we are pretty dull as Americans to believe it.

Sure, the Democratic nomination has taken a long time.  Why is that bad?  Every voter makes a difference this time.  Isn't that what we want?  If if does not work then here is an alternative:

How about every state votes on the same day?  The parties can mess around all they want with how to manipulate delegates and make a decision, but if this is such a big deal, why not just make it happen on one day?  We that with the presidential election, and that seems to work out (OK, imperfectly, but better than this).

I recommend we do it on Vermont's town meeting day.  That is a little selfish, I admit, but we have to pick a day that isn't too early and isn't too late.  March is about right, I say.  We would know with plenty of time for debates and voter education.  And we would have the bonus benefit of not having to worry about which state gets the first primary.  I certainly wouldn't miss that.

A while back I wrote about Dinky Donuts, a company in Burlington that makes fresh donuts and delivers them (read more in my second post on the topic here).  They have no store front.  They rent space at a restaurant in the early hours, then deliver to anyone who has placed an order.  I had a meeting in Burlington today (they only deliver in Burlington) and I so placed an order yesterday.  They were delivered this morning.

I requested that they be delivered close to 9:00.  I was running late and missed the delivery.  They were prompt, as I got there just a couple of minutes after 9:00.  I was sorry to have missed that.  They were glorious confections.  They clearly make them by hand.  Every one looks different and they tasted fab.

My favorite was the Strawberry Homer.  It is a strawberry frosted donut, simple.  The frosting, however, is made with fresh strawberries sprinkled with their own dried strawberry dust.  And this is on top of a freshly made hand crafted donut.

I admit I tried a few varieties Boston cream, maple frosted, chocolate frosted), although I did not eat an entire donut of each flavor.  That would have been too much.  I wish I had had some to bring home.  Even a day old, I am sure they would be tasty.  They were mighty good.  I would recommend them to anyone who appreciates a good donut.

They weren't no chain store donut, and that's a fact.

We have needed to get our lawn mower in shape for several days now.  Our grass is getting mighty tall.  I have done a pretty good job of reducing our lawn's size but still have more than will get done quickly enough with the reel mower.

I went and got a new battery today.  That was easy to install.  Old one out, new one in.  I got a new spark plug as well.  That should have been just as easy to install but I struggled with how to get the old one out with the tools I had for a little too long.  I even managed to bust it.  I finally went and bought a spark plug socket, at the recommendation of both my dad and my brother, and the job then took almost no time at all.  

I also had to take time to clean out a mouse nest.  There was grass slipping out of all kinds of little openings in the engine.  I couldn't imagine how so much grass had just blown in there.  Of course it had not.  The mouse tucked it in there.  The mouse was still there, too.  Judging by the desiccation, the mouse was there last summer as well.  It was a dried shell, and crumbled when I finally extracted it.  I learned how to disassemble and reassemble several parts of the mower thanks to that mouse. 

In all the tinkering I also broke the second plastic mount on the grill.  The grill is one large piece and is mounted with two bolts in the front.  The first mount was broken when we inherited the mower.  The second somehow broke today, although I did not see or hear it break and their were several plastic bits I never could find. 

So I still have to figure out how to attach the front cover of the thing.  I ordered a new part but that could take a while.  I also have to change the oil.  I figured I would just buy some oil at the hardware store, rather than at the mower dealer--save some cake, you know?  But the hardware store was out of what I needed.  Go figure. 

Finally, I need to sharpen the blade.  Actually, I learned today that the machine has two blades, so I have to sharpen them both.  Since they both have two sides, it is like sharpening four blades.  Sheesh.  Cutting the grass is enough work.  Who signed me up for all this?

Thought about running 7 1/2 miles today.  Didn't.  Calf was sore--needs to rest.

Ran four.  Felt good.  Perfect spring day.

Had dinner with friends.  Fine evening of sharing.  Forgot to eat salad.  Left half a beer.  Brought nothing.  Didn't help clean up.  They thanked me for that.

Planned a short work day.  Had a long one.  Worked out well.  Got lots done.  Even enjoyed it.

Stars are out.  Crescent moon.  Perfect spring night.

In a few minutes I head to the airport to get my family.  They have  been away, off to Florida without me.  My wife went with her sister to just get away to some place new after the death of their mother.  Somehow the children went along, too.  So much for relaxing.

I got a lot done while they were gone.  Just today I changed the oil in our lawnmower and mowed out entire sizeable lawn.  It was so long that we need to rake.  I did a bunch of that, as well.  I raked next to the deck, where we will look out when we have breakfast and watch the morning sun.  I wanted them to see the tidiness without the piles of wet clippings.

I cleaned the house--dishes, laundry, sweeping, picking up toys.  I used the clothesline--free energy.  I showered, shaved, changed clothes a few times.  And I ran eleven miles this afternoon as well.  Not a bad day's work. 

At one point I felt lonely.  I haven't felt lonely in a really long time.  In fact, I can't remember even feeling lonely.  So I am glad they are coming back.  I love them lots.  My wife will finally get a break after her brief  "vacation."  Just in time for Mother's Day.

I was tired today but I had to run four miles if I wanted to get in 30 for the week.  We were away a good chunk of the day.  If I ran I would not be able to make dinner.  As it was Mother's Day I didn't want my wife to do that.  I ran anyway.

Warblers are back.  In the tall maples and white pines on Dugway Road I can hear them.  I heard one I couldn't quite identify.  Another was a black-throated blue.  Welcome back north little dudes.

My run today was slow.  My pace was slower for four miles than the eleven miles I put in yesterday.  I was tuckered.  We all got to bed late after coming home from the airport.  My little boy was too excited to sleep in.  He was up at sunrise, which these days is before 6:00.

He just fell asleep.  Once he closed his eyes and relaxed it took him all of one minute, if that.  Yeah, he was tired. 

I need to go out and rake the grass clippings.  They are thick, since we hadn't cut the lawn yet and it was tall.  That can't wait too long so I need to put in some time at it.  Tomorrow I will be tired again.  I will try not to do it too close to dinner, but I will probably run anyway.

It wasn't huge but it meant a lot.  I was at the library, not my usual library in Hinesburg but another library in another town, attached to a school where I was working for the day.  Libraries around here have reciprocity agreements--bring in a card from another local library and you can borrow books.  I planned to take advantage of that.

I listen to books on CD when I drive around.  It is a great way to get some stories in.  I get hooked and don't want to get out of the car sometimes, for I only listen in the car.  It keeps me wanting to drive, and listening only in the car makes the stories last longer.  I had just finished a book on CD and picked out another one at this library.

I had a problem with my card apparently, however.  It was supposed to have a code of some kind.  It did not have this code.  The librarian mulled what to do.  She wanted to make sure I could take the book but had to make sure I was in their system correctly.  She waffled about how to solve the problem for a bit.

In the meantime, someone with whom I work came to the circulation desk.  We said hello, exchanged some conversation.  She needed to speak with the librarian and patiently waited for the problem to be solved.  After a little while she offered, "How about he just takes it out on my card."

Problem solved.  She had to trust me, of course, as I could have been an irresponsible library patron (although I was not on the "do not lend" list).  I got to borrow the book, take time to get the right code, and we all got what we needed.  As I said, it was not a huge thing to do.  But it mattered.

This is the kind of thing that makes a community worth living in.  When someone I know, but not well personally, is willing to put her own reputation on the line for me, I know I have found a good place to live.  It makes we want to do a favor like that for someone else.  And that is how it keeps going, getting passed from one person to the next.

The book, by the way, is A Wrinkle in Time, by Madeleine L'Engle.  I didn't get through chapter one before I got home.  I will keep listening every chance I get at this point;  I need to make sure I get it back on time. 

I did finally get the garden ready to plant seeds and transplant vegetable plants.  You can see some bark markers on the lower left where I already planted spinach, some a couple days ago and some the week before. 

It took a lot of work but I am pretty gung ho about it.  Our 16 tomato starts are now down to eleven, the latest the victim of small hands gripping a little too tightly.  They are not looking all that healthy, either.  I think I left them out in the wind a little too long recently.  I may end up buying starts.  I'd rather not talk about that right now.

I also planted cucumbers and melons (four out of six made it), leeks and onions.  Less than two weeks and I will plant it all in the ground.  If all goes well, we will be eating fresh food by June.  I can hardly wait.

Dugway Road runs for three miles between Cochran Road and Huntington Road.  It is gravel and runs along the Huntington River.  It is beautiful to run along on any day, but today it was as beautiful as it gets. 

I used to run along this road a couple of times every week, at least.  It was on the way home, or at least on the way somewhere, when we had a tough time running from home up on the mountain.  It was like an old friend, to toss out a trite little phrasology.  I knew it well.

I have not run on it in a couple of years now, since well before we moved to Hinesburg.  I was in Waterbury today for a meeting so I planned to run it.  It did not disappoint. This is one of the most beautiful times of the year in Vermont anywhere in the state and Dugway Road pulls it all together.

Lilacs bloom at pretty much every house, and a few bloom along the road.  Apple trees are in blossom, in pink and white.  All along the three miles of gravel road, I was swimming in the scents of flowers.  It was heavenly.  The new green, the red tulips, the blossoms, the blue sky--it all soaked into me and lifted me.  I kept saying aloud, "This is just SO BEAUTIFUL." 

I started at the post office in Jonesville, where I parked in the sun.  A half mile of pavement in Cochran Road and I got to gravel.  The road was familiar, the river ran clear and bubbling, the gorge was the wonder it always is, and I felt solid.  I was a little tired from running a fast 7 1/2 yesterday so I went slowly, but I felt good. 

The car was hot when I got back (and drank lots of water) but I was content.  I won't get back there for a while.  It is hard to imagine it will be as beautiful the next time, but I have been surprised before.

Once again, migratory birds are back. I hear them mostly when I am out for a run. On Leavensworth Road today I heard both an ovenbird and a wood thrush for the first time.  I also saw a splash of bright orange from Baltimore Oriole.

I heard a Baltimore Oriole yesterday so it was good to see one today.  I have heard a couple of warblers as well and hope to see more of them as the spring progresses.

Welcome back, travellers.  This is a mightly beautiful place to spend the summer.  i look forward to having you around.  Your singing sure has been welcome these days.

I stopped at the market on my way home from the office this afternoon.  I hadn't planned to go in at all, but I left something there that I needed to get a project done today.  Outside the store, there were shelves of plants lined up.  There were peppers, tomatoes, basil, all kinds of stuff.  The tomato plants were a lot bigger than the ones I planted, let me tell you.

Last year I planted the tomato plants late, four or five weeks before Memorial Day.  This year I wanted to get a head start.  I planted seeds eight weeks out, then transplanted twice to get deep roots.  They are not very big at this point, three inches tall at the most.  The ones at the store were a foot tall. 

I knew that I would have to experiment for a couple of years before getting things right.  I thought, however, that I would get bigger plants by this time.  Our cucumber plants, planted just two weeks ago, are way bigger than the tomatoes.  At least something is growing well.  The few melons I've got going are also taller, although they are not as large as I would like.

I can't imagine it isn't because our house is so dang chilly.  it gets cold at night and we don't keep the heat on.  I haven't lit a fire because we need to clean the stove too badly.  Things like basil, which started great but have hardly grown, like it warm.  It ain't warm in here.  So they grow, slowly.

I may plant some more in the ground tomorrow.  I planted the handful of onion seedlings and a few leeks a couple of days ago.  They seem to be doing fine, despite the almost frost last night.  I will plant some seeds tomorrow for sure--carrots and lettuce.  Spinach is already sprouting out of the soil.

I look forward to some fresh vegetables soon.  It seems like nothing will grow fast enough for me, but I know things will get cracking soon.  Spring is full on now, and summer will be here, with its heat and thunderstorms and long days, before I know it. 

It could not have been a more beautiful day.  Maybe that is cliche, but I tell you, it could not have been a more perfect day.  Blue skies with drifting white clouds, the hills green and yellow, lilacs tossing out their perfume--it was one to enjoy.

I planted the tree/shrub that my parents gave us in memory of my mother-in-law.  It should bloom blue in July.  Around it I planted coneflower seeds, which will bloom purple once they mature.  That will be a fine sight if it all comes to pass.

Tomorrow may be another perfect day.  It may rain, which is OK by me.  My wife and I plan to run 15 miles.  I'll do that in the rain.  Why the heck not?

We had planned to have a babysitter come to watch our kids this morning.  She has spent time with them in the past and they have a lot of fun with her.  My wife had communicated with her by email and thought we had left it that this high school senior would be here this morning just after 9:00.  Somehow we miscommunicated.

She did not arrive and was not to be found at home.  She has been pretty responsible so it was strange.  I guess we should have confirmed a little better.  Our plan was to run fifteen miles and it would be a bummer to run separately.  But I had an idea.

Some friends who live in town, whose children play well with ours, and who have been wanting to return a favor, agreed spur of the moment to come over.  They saved the day.  They arrived late in the morning and we were off on our run.

We left about 11:30, later than we would have liked, because we hoped to avoid the sun or the rain, whichever might come.  It was warm but not hot when we left, and we were not going to complain.  We ran out Leavensworth Road to start, which is just plain old beautiful on a day like today. 

The whole run, in fact, is beautiful.  We ran a total of about 2 1/2 miles on pavement, the sun was shining, the sky was blue, the greening hills were glowing.  It was stunning.  A beautiful day win a beautiful place with my beautiful wife.  What more could I ask for?

We ran out to the cemetery where my mother-in-law was buried and said hello to her.  It was sad, but it was also peaceful.  It was good to visit, to say thanks again.

We got home after two and a half hours.  We managed ten minute miles, or just under considering our breaks.   I haven't run fifteen miles since 2002, when I last trained for the Vermont City Marathon.  It felt good.  By the end I was tired.

I was surprisingly tired, actually.  I had run eleven miles a few times and did not feel close to this tuckered.  I think the heat made a difference there.  And we left late enough that the mornings pancakes had worn off a bit.  The bonus half banana (my daughter ate the other half) was not enough to get me though. 

Now I am weary.  I will sleep well this evening.  I hope I am rested enough for work tomorrow.  I will take the day off from running.  The next day I will tie on my shoes and get out there again, to put in the miles, to get out there.  I look forward to it already.

Yesterday I noticed a comment on a blog post on this site that defined fear as "the absence of faith."  It was noted offhandedly but it struck me.  I do not agree.

We are afraid of what we do not know.  We are often afraid when we take risks.  That is part of what defines risk and risk is often what makes our lives worth living.  Fear is not the absence of faith.  I can believe and still be afraid.  I can have absolute faith, not question at all, yet still be afraid to move forward.

I believe that fear comes when we step outside our comfort zones, when we live on the edge of what we know.  Fear can be debilitating, yes, but it also can be stimulating.  Soldiers can fear for their lives, yet believe they will triumph.  Peace marchers can fear for their safety or that they will not succeed in converting all those who question peace, yet can still march in faith for their cause. 

If faith in a higher power means abandoning fear, then how can religion be a force for change?  Fear can be just what we need to take action.  Fear can make us question what we believe so that we ultimately come to believe even more strongly than before. 

When I ran 50 miles I believed I would finish.  I had faith that I could accomplish that challenge, although I had never done it before.  Before I started running that day, I had fears.  Would I injure myself?  Would I finish in the allotted time if I had to slow down?  What if I did not finish after all?  Those fears could have overcome me, certainly, but they pushed me forward instead.  My faith that I would succeed was a product of discovering and then overcoming my fear.  Having those fears did not mean I did not faith.

When I am afraid, I know I am living life more fully.  I do not mean that I want to fear for my safety or my life.  Plenty of people live each day with those fears and I am lucky that they are not part of my life.  But if I they were, would that mean I could not have faith?  If I lived in a place where others began a conflict in which I was swept up, and this made me afraid, does that mean I must have no faith?  Or I should have not fear in such a situation?  One should not have to choose between faith and fear.

I am afraid.  I fear.  Who is not afraid at times?  Millions of people feel fear daily.  I would not have faith myself if I believed that none of them could.

Yesterday I was inside most of the day at a high school.  When I went in that morning, it was raining.  It wasn't dumping, just raining steadily.  It was chilly and it felt good to get out of the wet. 

I watched the rain fall during the day.  It came down on and off.  At times it fell pretty hard and slapped against the windows of my borrowed office.  I looked out with a mixture of gladness that I was warm and dry, and longing to be out in it, maybe paddling down a norther river.

At the end of the day, I walked out into the foyer to find the rain coming down in buckets.  The puddles were jumping.  At that moment I felt a bit gloomy.  I was tired and I was ready to amble across the parking lot without hurrying.  But then I opened the door.

The air smelled of dampness, or earth, of green, of flowers.  It smelled of spring.  The scent, or the mixture of scents, immediately lifted me.  I smiled.  I walked out into the rain.  And I walked slowly to my car.  I took my time getting in to drive home.

I was feeling a pain in my left calf again today.  I had felt this a few weeks ago, rested a bunch, and it healed up.  Now its back.  The bummer is that I had a great week last week--39 miles total.  I will have to scale that back now.

I tried a run today.  I figured I could go five or six miles, take it slow, and I would be fine.  I turned around after a mile and a half.  I was sore.

i will try again tomorrow.  I do not want to injure myself, however.  That would be a drag.  I figure I want to get myself in marathon shape by the summer solstice.  That seems workable, unless I continue to get slowed by random pains.

Marathon early summer.  Fifty in September.  Marathon in Burlington next May.  Then the 100 in August.  Is that too much to do?  I suppose that is relative, eh? 

Here's to no more pain tomorrow.  I am ready to be done with that.  I will have to reduce my weekly mileage from last week.  I might be able to get in 30 miles this week, but we shall see.  It may have to be a slow week for me.  Three miles?  That hardly even counts at this point.

I took today off again from running.  Still have the pain in the calf.  This afternoon I had hoped to go.  By the time I was ready, the pain was gone.  I decided that would be a good time not to go.  Why aggravate things?

It was hard not to run.  I want to get out there.  I enjoy it.  And I want to make sure my body gets used to lots of miles.  It doesn't make sense, however, to get a run in today when I will not be able to do so tomorrow.  Tomorrow I will go.

It was another perfect day today.  It seems more perfect because we have had some rainy days lately.  I can see why people live in California.  Day after day of perfect days.  But I imagine I would get used to that and they would seem normal, rather than special.  It may rain here, and get cold, and all the rest, but when those days come that sing, I sing as well.

I ran into the colleague today who got me pumped to get into it again.  I got to tell him how excited I have been, how I have gotten some great runs in.  He has as well.  He plans to run a leg of the marathon in Burlington this weekend.  I won't be there.  Maybe next year.

So this is a short week for me.  Resting is good.  Just not too much of it.

After I came home from working with students for the day, the clouds rolled in and it began to rain.  It got dark quickly, a few drops fell and then it was coming down in buckets.

I was glad for the rain.  Whenever it rains I do not have to water the garden.  May flowers and all that jazz.  Then it began to hail.

We all stood watching the rain on the deck when we saw the little round white bits bouncing off the deck that is in such need of repainting.  Hail doesn't help with the paint situation, if you know what I'm saying.

My little boy remembers hail from last summer.  I was telling him a story the other night.  He likes to have "trouble" in his stories, trouble that the characters manage to get through.  One of the troubles was that it began to hail, but then I realized he might not remember what hail is.  So I asked him and he said he did know.   "It's like snow," he said, "except it melts right after it hits the ground." 

That is what happened this afternoon.  There is no hail now, an hour or so later, on the ground.  I had thought of transplanting our cucumber seedlings right after I got home.  I am glad I did not.  They would not have enjoyed the hail, regardless of how fast it melted.

The first day of the long Memorial Day weekend, the unofficial start of summer, we did these things:

Created a rustic tower for pole beans from branches we dragged from the woods.  The kids insisted on doing the dragging.

Planted the pole beans.

Planted pumpkin seeds.

Erected, after repairing, the triangular trellis for cucumbers.

Transplanted 26 leek seedlings.

Got creamies in town.

Went for a 7 1/2 miles trail run where we heard dozens of different birds, saw spring wood flowers blooming, and had some quality time sans children.

Set up our huge tent on the lawn.

Transplanted eight melon seedlings.

Pulled lots of weeds.

Pulled out the grill, cleaned it (I still can't remember why we put it away without cleaning it) and grilled squash and veggie burgers (with chips!).

Slept in the tent (it took a while for the kids to get to sleep but they slept well in the end).

Whew.  And that was just day one.

Sleeping in the tent again tonight.  Birds outside the nylon.  Kids asleep but they need some company.

Got a lot done today--planted cucumbers, built a trellis for them to climb, weeded (again) the flower beds, planted a shrub.

I also bought tomatoes to replace the ones that kicked the bucket.  Last year the seeds I planted did well.  This year it looks I will get four out of 18, and those may not grow well in the garden.  So I bought some seedlings.

Learn from mistakes, right?

Nighty night.

Coming home from the Memorial Day parade in Vergennes this afternoon, my daughter asked me about the "guns," meaning the muskets, that frightened her and her brother enough that we left right after things got started.  On the way down she had asked if the "loud poles," as she called them last year, would be there again.  I said that they likely would be and both the children were anxious about it until we got far enough away that we were unlikely to hear them.

How do you explain to a child what this day is about?  It is about remembering the dead, yes, but it is about remembering soldiers who have died.  What is a soldier?  What is war?  When you try your best to instill kindness and caring into your children, how do you explain that a soldier's job is, when you get right down to it, to hurt other people.

Sure, we can placate ourselves into believing that soldiers are there to "defend our country."  That may be true to some degree.  But when was they last time soldiers actually defended this country?  World War II,  suppose.  That was a long time ago to a child. 

I had trouble explaining that soldiers fight each other.  Why do they fight each other?  Well, I couldn't really answer that.  There are soldiers fighting other soldiers now, but they certainly aren't defending our country.  I am not sure, to be honest, what, if anything, they are really defending, despite all the rationalizations we continue to have for their being overseas. 

Why do people fight at all?  Do people love the soldiers who fight?  Do soldiers hurt kids?  Do they only try to hurt people they don't know?  How was I supposed to answer these questions when I do not have good answers.

I tried to be as honest as possible without scaring the pants off my kids.  They do not yet need to become steeped in the violence and pain that saturates our world.  They have begun to experience it already and they have plenty of time to experience more of it.  I have no desire to rush them into that.

I respect all those who have fought in the name of our nation.  I have not been so bold or so unlucky or so courageous to do that.  I suppose if I felt I might actually make a difference by fighting I might do it, but fighting has never worked for me.  That we attacked Iraq as a last resort is, and was obviously at the time, a farce. 

That is not a lesson I have any desire to teach my children. 

So I am torn on this day between honoring the fallen and feeling sadness and even anger that so many have fallen for a cause not worth dying for.  All I can do is say thanks for doing what you believed was right.  Who am I to know if it was or not?

For several years on the Sunday before Memorial Day my wife and I ran the marathon in Burlington.  I haven't run it since 2002.  It happened this past Sunday and I keep bumping into people who were part of it.  Some ran legs of the relay, some volunteered at water stations or at the finish line, some ran the whole thing.  It is a fantastic community event and I miss it.

We would rise early and head into town.  We knew a few good spots to park, being somewhat local, and made sure to walk a good ways down the hill to get to the start.  We always ran into people we knew.  There was great energy all around.

Along the route people cheered, calling out to people they did not know.  Musicians played and those living on the route offered the Rocky theme song or lemonade or a misting house.  I felt supported and that support kept me going when it was hot or I was tired.

The thing about it is this:  the community comes out for the event.  They say it is the biggest sporting event in the state now.  I don't doubt it.  Over 7,000 people ran it this year, from all over the world, so the local event has an international component.  And all those runners are welcomed and cheered on and smiled at.  It is a pretty wonderful.

Maybe next year I will have enough training to run it.  If not, I suppose I could run a relay leg.  I volunteered one year when I was injured.  In any case, it would be nice to just see it.  At one point I thought on Sunday, "this is marathon day."  I would like to not think that but just to be there.  There is always next year, right?

I did not take the time to water the garden yesterday.  I didn't forget.  I just was busy and tired and thought maybe it could wait a day and then it was dark and I was asleep and...

The cucumbers were limp when I got home this afternoon.  All that work of planning and tending and transplanting, all that waiting and excitement at my success growing some plants and I might have blown it because I blew off watering on a windy day.

Most of the stuff is in the ground now.  I have a couple of tomato plants to transplant, although I am afraid they will kick it once I do.  And I need to plant corn.  The soil isn't quite warm enough for that.  Soon, soon...

Last year we had some soggy cucumbers but they came back.  Watering is key early on, no question.  Otherwise limp turns into dead.  No more forgetting you dumb dumb, that is what I said to myself.  Seriously, what is with the laziness here?  Tired schmired. 

i watered this afternoon, after I came back from my first run in four days.  The sore muscle I had felt was fine, or so I thought.  I was careful, went slowly, came back feeling happy that I could get back into the miles.  Then I tweaked it playing hide and seek with my children.  You dumb dumb, that is what I said to myself.  Makes me feel a little soggy myself.

Gaia isn't all it's cracked up to be.  At least, that is what I have told myself more than once.  Why should I stay with it?  I have had a place here since 2006, and I have been posting to my blog page almost daily for a year and a half.  I have been thinking about moving that blog to a different site.

Lots of people used to read my blog.  I sometimes found some positive nuggets.  Lately, however, this site seems to be home to more would-be dreamers than actual dreamers.  I want to change the world, sure.  That is why I am conscious about what I eat and wear, about how many miles I drive, about what my house is made from, about where my towels are made.  That is why I have a garden.  That is why I work with teenagers. 

There seems to be a lot of fluff here.  Thoreau said of his journals that he got "Pearls and Seaweed," meaning among the washed up detritus there would be a few gems.  It couldn't all be good.  Gaia seems that way but I have had a hard time finding the pearls these days.

I read what I find--members' blog pages, discussions, comments, what have you.  I don't mean to diss anything here.  Heck, I am as much a part of this thing as anyone else.   I should be the change I wish to see and all that.  I keep wondering, however,  whether I can make more change elsewhere.

Why should I stay?  Give me some genuine, articulate reasons, and not rosy niceties.  Do I need to say what I have to say here?  I could use the help.