Dog and I weave our way through giant spines of thorn to braid patience
Hare, tucks, bolts full speed and slides, wet between my ankles mistaking these brown rubber boots for tree trunks
Alive and still able to chase, Old Dog comes thundering up smiling, though visibly disappointed
~ Where's the Rabbit?~
All present, laughed
W.S. Merwin wrote in a poem called, "Separation":
"Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color."
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
In Sandy, Oregon, we Revenaugh kids poured over these richly illustrated, hardback books of wonder and delight. As far as we were concerned they defined the sole purpose of a Daveno, (best draped with a couple of sheets for private, hide-out reading together.) Those books, several blank sheets of paper, crayons and pencils kept us engrossed for hours. Add a mother, who could answer ANY question in great and engaging detail, and we had the finest early childhood education program available.
Plus, we were allowed to play in the woods for hours.