Posts Tagged ‘ road ’

Can Old Ladies Be Trusted?

Wednesday, May 15th, 2013

Carol is 85 and beats the heads off live rattlesnakes. Then she skins the rest of the snake. And salts the skins.

 

Only SOME Of Carol’s Snake Skins

This is her collection.

She and the rattlesnakes live, and some expire, on a big ranch down the road from me.
Every Thursday, my art friend Regina, myself and our art teacher Stan, come to Carol’s house to paint. Many times when I walk from outside the house into Carol’s laundry room, I jump half my body length into the air. I jump because Carol has several snake skins or more, laid out on the top of her dryer, right next to the door. They’re just lying there like live snakes in repose; ¬†relaxed and salted as they dry.

I often shriek.¬† (more…)

The Road Less Traveled Yields Soft Surprise

Wednesday, December 12th, 2012

 

The Same Road, The Same Spot Where It Happened

Almost no one lives out here but us.

Later in our lives when we are far advanced in years, the area will become known as The Grasslands. Our town will fight about saving it and all the raptors, eagles and little burrowing, running creatures that live here…they will argue about saving The Grasslands, or not.

The Grasslands are rolling fields of low grass, peppered with massive boulders and oak trees.

Today, I am 11 or 12 years old. I am riding my clunky bike in the middle of the quiet road that runs below our tiny house on 14 acres. It’s paved and spirals languidly into the far distance.

My old blue bike is heavy and huge and I have to stand up to pedal and push to make the bike move slowly forward.

My brother Art, who is maybe 3 or 4, is on foot, meandering along beside me.

I’m sweating. My hair and my face are damp.

We’re heading far down the quiet road to a stream tucked behind boulders and trees, miles away.

We have a small lunch with us. 2 Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I’m grappling with a fishing pole when suddenly my bike hits a small rock in the road and I fly off the seat, hit the middle of the road hard, and roll. (more…)

A Sure Fire Way To Meet A Single Man

Wednesday, November 7th, 2012

One Of The Trees That Caused The Trouble

I’m bent under the black walnut trees that line the road down the lane, across from my house.. There’s a lot of nuts on the ground this year.

I search through the dried grass, find handfuls of black shelled nuts and toss them into the street. I bend, scoop, and toss until there are masses of hard shelled nuts on the pavement.

The crows on the wires and I watch and wait for cars and trucks to roll by and snap the nuts making multiple, sharp bangs. The weight of vehicles crack the shells exposing the soft meat.

Bang, crack, bang, crack, crack, bang! The sound is very satisfying.

Every fall I feed the crows their walnuts this way.

At last, turning from my good deed I head down the long lane across the street from me. The cars rush by behind me as the volley of banging continues to hit the air.

Suddenly, there is a man racing out of his house toward me, across his field, headed to the road. (more…)


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