imbolc blessings/ night time walk/ the Lamescape

indoors
my partner listens to cursive and pays the bills

and my two companions,
my two sons -romulus and remus-

their jubilant laughter runs
over the sidewalks
and echos off of stucco dwellings

in the dark
cool
night
we run
(the wildest creatures these pedestrians walkways have boasted)
like coyotes
under orion and his clan
of
diamonds,
defying streetlamps with their brightness.
we run free.

whatever scrap of green we can see, we sit there, and watch the other living things congregate.

neighborhood cats are always a highlight of our strolls. honest.

two years ago i started a post called: we live across the street from an industrial park, where i, in my crude and unrefined styled, tried to illustrate life within a seemingly wasted place but learning the magic to see the wonder. it didn't make it to print.

hugged by the walmart and it's seas of parking we find green and blue after the small rain. sticks, i tell ya. sticks.

 well, the most recent edition of Orion magazine had an yet another essay that made me cry because the experience was so familiar. this is borrowed from nico alvarado's no strangers here:

this used to be fruit and vegetable scraps. i haul worm-wriggling compost around the yard to nourish the soil for future plants; a proud proud soil worker.

 "in truth it was a giant parking lot, Acres of asphalt, an ocean of it...my wife called it the Lamescape, and for one year we lived across the street. because our house was in a cul-de-sac that defied egress on foot, it was the only place we could go for a walk, and because we're the sort of people who eat bulgar and read Orion and buttonhole strangers at parties to talk about compost, we think it's really, really important to go for walks...

our cul-de-sac. i wonder about how our location affects the childhood of my sons. i grew up deep in the hills, wandering bare footed. even teddy spent the first 3 years of his life gathering eggs and vegetables with me in the mornings. to me this place is ugly, and some days i am overcome by the beauty, leave it to us to find the magic. home is home.

...
this is the heart of lamescapeness: it's where we put - note that i don't say hide - what we don't want to see...it isn't a slum. it isn't toxic waste. it is simply stuff that we americans don't value the sight of...
minus the lawns and the american dream, it embodies the same priciple of the cul-de-sac - except that the cul-de-sac keeps us safe from strangers, and the Lamescape exists to make us strangers to itself...

we wander into our very own lamescape.

and yet. for all that is was ugly and stupid, for all the existential dread it inspired, for all that every Lamescape represents the failure of the commons, every day at five it was ours..."

crawling even into the cracks.

but yet, the edges could never be lame. pure earth. blooming ceanothus.

visiting the first leaves of the buckeye.

linky eats ants and dirt.   :s

teddy wears a watch and tells me what time it is. he runs an experiment in his sink called "does it float?"

the first blooms of our nearest redbud. true love.

this place where we live, when at first contact feels wholly irredeemable, the earth reminds us that that is so far from reality.
i feel happy when i realize how much i've learned to see.
the beauty in the ugly.
the magic in the only places left for us and our children to wander.
our connection to place.

xoxo

someone turns 30 and flirty this week!!!!!!!!!!!