Day 23

There is a tiny little maidenhair fern I planted in the front yard a year ago, under a maple tree. That little fern has never been happy, but he hasn't given up, either. He's been in a race with himself to see if he can grow faster or die faster. Finally I went out and rescued him. I gave him a new home in a plastic pot and brought him inside. I've given him a bath and a shave, and in the right light I can see something of his old self.  The other ferns under the maple tree are fine and dandy. This one is the rising-star pitcher, drafted in the first round, who's been getting clobbered in the big leagues. Maybe he just doesn't have the stuff for the big show, or maybe he'll come alive in a better situation. Sure, he's temperamental. He's earned that reputation, but good players can be temperamental, especially when they aren't playing up to their potential. We'll put him on a nutrition plan, keep a close eye on his hydration, and we'll see if, after wilting in the sun, he can adjust to life on the bench.

Meanwhile there are a thousand baby Japanese maples growing in the mulch. Being a soft-hearted sort, I put a few of those in pots, too. Just to see what they have in mind.

I spent the day first in the sun, and then in the kitchen. I made one of those meals that takes hours, but is totally worth it. I started a batch of bean sprouts in a jar. These are things I always said I wanted to do in the golden days, but never found time for. I wish I could share these small wonders with a wider array of people, but ironically it's the time I spend with those people that so often redirects me from the things I finally did today.

In the little bit of poetry I've written, I find I'm lost until I prescribe myself a form. I guess it's easier for me to find my edge when I'm confined to a nice little pen.