February

Four weeks to the month, now that’s the ticket

The problem is this sticky wicket.

It applies to February alone

All other months out of the zone

sport too many days to come out right

by three sometimes, or two if light.

Since there seems no rhyme nor reason

and we can’t calculate by season

we have to memorize the days per month

by sheer rote or by jingle

“Thirty days hath September,

April, June and November,

All the rest have 31...”

Well, except that brings us back to one

which has four weeks.

Oh, darn. 

 In years divisible by four...

At any rate, this ends it for this year.
May your March be everything you wish it to be!

Bicycle Ride to

the beach, where I caught the gulls in an early morning nap.

Wind

I can't take a picture of the wind, though I suppose that if I wanted to walk around the neighborhood a bit I might find some pictures of the effect of the wind.

After lunch, we walked about five blocks to a shopping area to look through some stores.  Going was not a problem, as we were going "downhill" so to speak.  But coming back against the wind we assumed a posture like this as we walked along:  \  \ with BBBH being just behind me, she hoping I would serve as a windbreak.  Even so, she had to sit for a bit to catch her breath before we completed the journey.

Seriously, the sustained winds were in the forty-mile range, and there were gusts that very nearly blew us over, perhaps sixty or so!

The good news is that we arrived safely home, and we spent only five bucks.  Plus tax, of course.

We had left a crock-pot of beans simmering as it sat outside while we were gone.  When we lifted the lid, we found a mixture of beans and really, really fine sand.  Waste not, want not.  The beans were poured into the colander, thoroughly rinsed, place in fresh water in a pot and put on the stove to finish cooking.  Oh, those beans were so good for supper!  Of course, the cornbread that accompanied them put the finishing flourish on the meal.

• I was born on the high plains in Southeastern Colorado during the Dust Bowl Era.  I recall hearing mother tell of the battle with the dirt in the house, stuffing papers and rags  around the windows and using all techniques available to keep the dirt out, to little avail.  She said that the sugar bowl with the lid on and in a closed cupboard would collect dirt inside along with the sugar.  I should have known that a day such as this one was not one in which to cook the beans outdoors.

The Palm

There stands the regal palm tree

Its use is more than I can see.

It wears a crown but gives no shade

and never a bit of fruit is made.

“Regal” is an apt description
The tree, the king, share this affliction

One is useless as the other

Each an embarrassment and a bother.

California in my youth

Sported palm trees, it’s the truth

But the ones I knew there

Wore edible fruit in their hair.

The date palm, a tree utile,

Its production was not futile.

On Oahu I met the coconut,

A palm tree too, similar but

at least it produced a bread

that if it fell not on your head

was edible, a thing of joy,

I’ve eaten them since a boy.

Yet this thing I see above me

Is useless as food or shade. A tree?

What is this tall thing for?

Why, my friend, it is décor!

A Day of Rest and Restoration

 So now you see how the Creator swept into being the spangled heavens, the earth, and all their hosts in six days.  On the seventh day—with the canvas of the cosmos completed—God paused from His labor and rested.  Thus God blessed day seven and made it special—an open time for pause and restoration, a sacred zone of Sabbath-keeping, because God rested from all the work He had done in creation that day.  --Genesis 2:1-3, The Voice

Charlie's Pasture

We had a really nice ride along the water's edge to visit this nature preserve.

Port Aransas developed this area, with new walking trails, board walks over the salt flats, observation tower, and pavilion, as a nature preserve.  The work took place over the last four years.  It is a wonderful excursion, even if the wildlife observed on a given day is limited to woolly bears and dolphins.

The area is almost two square miles of land.  the designation "Charlie's Pasture" is in recognition of early owner Charlie Bujan who
allowed the local residents to graze their cattle on his property.

BBBH is strolling toward the water.  There were a couple of fishermen enjoying the afternoon there, and this is where we watched the dolphins swimming through the pass.

First-grader Ann and the School Superintendent

I understand that the Midwest is experiencing another hellacious winter storm.  While I am enjoying the warmth and sunshine of the Texas Coast, I offer you this rerun for your enjoyment.  I hope.

As I indicated, we lived in the last house but one on Water Street as you headed out of town. This location placed us just eight-tenths mile from the elementary school. Each day my wife sent the kid (only one in school so far) toddling off to the seat of learning, only to watch the Heton kids next door board the school bus bound for the same destination. Mommy very soon tired of this, and Daddy was directed to "do something about that."

So I approached the Superintendent of Schools. Was I thinking "professional courtesy" or what was I thinking? Dr. McClurg was a vast, I mean huge, Irishman who had served our country honorably during WWII as captain in the USMC. He affected the same military flattop he wore as an active-duty gyrene, though it was white now, but would still have been a full head of hair had he not had it shorn weekly. At six-five and two seventy-five, he was a formidable man-mountain.

He welcomed me into his office, and we exchanged a few pleasantries, a bit of banter actually, as his school district and the one in which I worked were keen rivals on the football field or in the basketball arena. Then, getting to the point, he asked, "What can I do for you?" I succinctly explained that my child was walking nearly two miles each day to and from school, while my next door neighbor's kids were riding the corporation bus; and since it would not require an extra stop, I would appreciate it if my child could board the same bus.

"Now, Mr. Lacy, it surprises me that you would ask that. You see, the alley between your house and the Heton's is also the town limits line. It is policy that no child who lives within the village proper may ride the bus."

"Well, Dr. M, Ann would be glad to walk across the alley to get on the bus."

"But, don't you see? the line has to be drawn somewhere. If Ann rides, then Mrs. Lewis will want her kids to ride, and so on, until the driver will be stopping 50 yards from school to pick up someone who could get there faster on foot. You take my point!"

Of course I took his point, and besides as a child I had walked farther than that to get to school. Didn't kill me; wouldn't kill my kids.

How cold it can get inside one's domicile, even with the fire burning brightly.

© 2010 David W. Lacy

Flim Flammin on the Jim Jam

Too busy making music last night; no time for making stories.  Come again.