THERE WAS AN OLD WOMAN

Since very early childhood, youngest daughter Jeannie has had nightmares about tornadoes. Since she had never seen one, I couldn't imagine why she harbored such terror of one. As she grew older, she learned that our Houston thunderstorms often spawned tornadoes, so her fears included thunderstorms. Now in her late thirties, she remains terrified of storms and tornadoes and fears she will die in one. When Hurricane Rita was aimed at Texas and people evacuated the city, (Katrina was still fresh in our minds), Jeannie ran all the way to Oklahoma, not knowing that she was putting herself right in the middle of tornado alley. She took quite a bit of ribbing about it and today it is a family joke to evacuate to Oklahoma.

huge storm..........................................
lightening strike......................................

Labels: nightmares - Jeannie's

Wild Geese

From airports
in Europe and Africa and America,
in Australia and Malaysia,
both separately and together
you and I have boarded planes
through sleek, accordion pleated tubes,
climbed rickety, roll-up metal stairs,
rode crowded busses from terminals
to distant parked planes
and scurried across jet shrieked tarmac
to fearful little prop jobs.

We've stood patiently in orderly lines,
rubbed elbows with perfumed furs
and drank champagne in computerized seatings.
We've bulled our way like Greenbay Packers
through shoving hordes of dusky brothers
for a first-come, first served seat
on Third World airlines.

You stood in line at Orly Sud,
just deplaned from Austria
and I, dashing late as usual,
after a wild Paris-London-Paris week,
stood far to the end of the boarders.
You saved a seat for me,
claiming it was for your wife
as you resisted the determined struggles
of other passengers for the last empty place
on an overbooked Air Algerie.

When at last I squirmed through the crowd
and collapsed in the seat beside you,
we giggled in triumph like children
and huddled together in chatty intimacy
during the flight across the Med.
After a sleepless night in Paris I was a wreck
but you gallantly assured me that I looked wonderful.

At Houston Intercontinental
I stood forlornly, alone, left behind,
watching you disappear down the long corridor
to the boarding lounge
en route to New York, Paris, Oran..
You turned and beckoned for me to follow
and I could only shrug, palms up
in the classic gesture.
I wanted to go too. You know that.
But it's all been said
and there is nothing more to say.

When I left the airport it was raining
and I could hear the rising whine of jet engines.
I heard them in my mind
long after they were far behind me
and the sounds of the city filled my ears.
On the radio Janis Joplin sang Bobby Magee
so I turned up the volume full blast
and drove home alone, my heart
echoing the cry of the wild goose.

mb/ for Bob

"....we had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun..."

Labels: wild geese - flights

There is an old story about an injured wild goose who was nursed back to health by a farmer. Although once again healthy, the goose was crippled and could not fly. It spent its days in the chicken yard with the other fowl and appeared content, except in the spring and the fall when the migrating wild geese flew over. The old goose would echo their plaintive cries but the flocks went on and he was left behind. Long after they were gone he would continue to cry piteously and watch the sky.

I loved to travel and I loved to fly. I loved the life of the human wild geese circling the globe to exotic lands and tasting foreign cultures.

Now I sit alone with memories. From my 7th floor apartment I watch the arrivals and departures of the planes from Hobby Airport and wonder where they've been and where they're going. My heart aches with longing to be on them, to go, to fly like the wild geese. I sympathize, empathize with the old goose in the story. I, too, cry piteously, to no avail. I, too, am grounded to the barnyard.

Labels: wild goose - cries

The Ice Plant is a succulent with thick, finger-like leaves. It is a native to south Africa and has been transplanted to many countries for xeriscaping.

I first saw Ice Plants in Algeria, north Africa. Benabdullah, mon fils Algerien, brought some and planted them in my flower gardens. During the hot, arid summer months when water was rationed and watering gardens strictly prohibited, the Ice Plants survived quite well. Other flowers and plants survived only by dint of labor. On the day laundry was allowed, we could divert the washing machine drain hose to drain onto the gardens. Everyone cooked, washed dishes and bathed during the 2 hours each evening that water usage was allowed. We'd save our bath water and haul it out, bucket by bucket, to pour on my flowers and Roy's veggie garden.The Ice Plants needed no such pampering.

Ice Plant, Lampranthus	Ice Plant, Lampranthus

Ice Plant, Lampranthus	Ice Plant, Lampranthus

Labels: ice plants - north africa gardens