.jpg)
The blossoms are almost free of the crabapple tree again. Is it the twentieth year, or more? I’m not positive, I can’t remember when we planted it. For a few days of the year as it sheds them, I can smell their pungent sweetness as soon as I open the back door. A few days ago, Minnow, our tabby, sat in the Adirondack under the overhanging limbs. You can see how the white petals fell to land on her like oversized snowflakes.
With a little rain, with a little sun, with a little time, things change so rapidly in Minnesota. Today, the street that we’ve lived on forever begins its transformation into a completely new surface. However, for that to reach completion, it obviously has to be destroyed first. It will be noisy, it will be dirty, it will be in “the way” instead of being “a way” and it isn’t going to be done overnight. That’s progress, that’s maintenance, but that renewal is different than the springs, summers, autumns and winters of life. Those cycles have a lot to do with my writing and inspiration over the years, the decades. As have the events and seasons such as fishing, garage sales, skiing, ice fishing, kid’s sports, birthdays, holidays, etc.
When I’m on the water or on the trail or even just driving to and from places, I’m often doing what I call mental journaling. I do it when I’m walking with my pull golf cart and when I’m paddling, when I’m in the middle of my backswing sometimes. Ironically, those are my best drives. When I’m relaxed and multi-tasking with my old brain. Likely because I’ve seen a bird or a fox or the staccato rhythm from the driving range near the back four holes at Babbitt reminds me of a song or shooting with my Dad.
This week I want to share a couple of poems I’m working through. Like all of my stuff, there’s not a whole lot of poetry analysis you need to plow through to understand. Poetry, at least the kind that I enjoy the most and the kind I mostly write, is just another form of storytelling. You can put yourself in my shoes, even if they’re size 13, and still walk through the tall grass. No need to get lost in the weeds.
Warm Water
We fished a shallow lake and the water was warm the fish were warm the breeze was warm. We paddled into the sun and fished the edges of reed beds, over rocks on the bottom, casting into surface forests of lily pads.
White flowers would soon dot the surface not so much bigger than our bobbers.
We put on more sunscreen.
We seemed almost like children. The wind picked up lifting lily pads like flags and we put an island between us and it.
On that side we found some big enough for dinner and you found a beautiful black crappie.
It had so many more colors around its paper mouth and eyes than black and white. Green and blue and gold and turquoise.
Yellow in the new spring sunset and orange; Kissing the warm sun. We paddled into it towards home.
Die Cast Cars
I found some more the other day, while picking Antiques. Matchbox. Hotwheels. A few like I used to play with in the gravel driveway after the rain, jumping puddles, driving my roads I pushed through the sand myself with a block of wood.
My cars were scratched from the gravel and the wheels were mostly bent and full of grains of sand; they were veterans of countless hours of outdoor adventures. My imagination drove them, but they were never fast enough to beat my friends and cousins brighter, shinier cars down their orange plastic tracks and rarely survived the massive loops they built.
Had I never played with them except inside, except on carpet we didn’t have, except for the big races, they would’ve competed, sure, but when I was alone and outside where cars belonged, and I’d read all the books I could find; I needed something to play with, needed a way to escape. ©Timothy James Stouffer #elystreetpoet All rights Reserved. 06042025 I don’t know if I’ll ever not feel nostalgic. When the new street is finished and the new curbs and sidewalks are in place and the new trees have begun to reach for the sun, I’ll enjoy them all, that’s for sure. It’s been a long time coming. But I’ll miss the old one. I’ll also become fond of the new. The cars will drive much easier to and from, that’s for sure. Probably a little faster too.
