Life Among the Never-Winged

Once upon a time I was writing a book called, "Just Another Love Letter", about angels behaving badly. Now I just quietly ask myself each day, "What the hell am I doing?"

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Location: The Rocky Mountain Empire, United States

My friends always knew I was going to hell. My only hope is that God likes good jokes and bad redheads.

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  • Sunday, July 02, 2006


    I did my rounds today in the garden; the usual, only earlier.

    This is the difficult time of the year for the garden, and for gardening. The peas are spent – what’s left is starchy, but I’ll let them dry on the vine for seed next year. The romaine is mostly bolted and I haven’t kept up with consecutive plantings. The squash and zucchini are behind, not even flowering yet. The tomatoes are green and hard, but full of promise if I’m patient and even in my watering.

    Have you ever picked a tomato off the vine, taken it to the kitchen, cut it open, and felt the warmth of the sun still inside? You can hold it in your hand and let the warmth soak into your skin.

    Though I did not sleep much last night, the rest I got sustains me today. As I watered the tomatoes, smelling their good, green leafy smell, I thought of nothing else. I felt like a monk.

    Then I heard a lovely complex birdsong and looked up into the trees. I found the bird; small, bright yellow, at the top of one of the cottonwoods. A golden pear on a dead branch. And above him, wheeling in the sky, a falcon. I could tell what he was by his pointed wings and the way he flew as though he owned the sky – a prince in a blue court. Then he was joined by his mate, and they circled and dove, riding the same currents in a swift aerial dance. I was up there with them. Then they were gone.

    2 people left me a love letter:

    Blogger Schmoopie wrote in a love letter...

    A. and I shared our first ripe tomato of the season from our greenhouse and we understand exactly what you mean. We could feel the warmth of the sun and it tasted so delicious that it seemed to melt in our mouths. It was a bit of happiness that grows from the sunshine. I may complain about the sun, but I do realize its potential! :)

    1:06 PM, July 02, 2006  
    Blogger Vulgar Wizard wrote in a love letter...

    You know what happens when OUR tomatoes start to ripen? The tops split and we pick them and let them turn in the window. When they're ripe, they look like aliens, and I can only eat the bottom half. Ick!

    8:18 AM, July 07, 2006  

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