And this is it....... TAKE YOUR SHOES OFF. simple. I just thought of how neat the first grass of spring is really really green. The best color, if you have to pick a certain color and you picked green, see, you would have to be that particular green, the first grass of spring green.... and it is so sweet and fresh and inviting..... that you take your shoes off and just put your naked feet on the grass and feel the first fresh growth of love from dirt. simple. It's an air thing, I guess, too, but it is hard to grow things in thin air. Dirt maybe is best.
So, see, yesterday I learned that someone I had gotten to know, here, in thin air, not dirt...had died.
He had written a small blog, somehow I stumbled unto it, I liked the way he wrote, and gees we gott to be friends. His name is Bob... and he wrote SEVEN ROADS TO HOME which was just a nice patch of grass. When he was diagnosed with cancer he continued to write, about what he loved, going to the Mayo and the Clinic in LaCrosse. But, what I always liked is when he would write about his garden and talking with his Buddys.
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| Bob's photo of his garden | . | . |
I had
Green is good and from the photo's he would post, it seemed like he was good at making green. Not the money..... the good green, from the dirt, with love. I guess he was able to grow friendships, too, right out of thin air, and that is a pretty incredible thought,
Take your shoes off, wherever you are, and let things grow all around your feet. There is nothing better to know, especially when you have no desire to not know too much.
Where the Sidewalk Ends
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
Shel Silverstein
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
13 comments:
The garden is gorgeous!
Yes....I believe he grew an excellent one.
Gardens are special. There are a thousand greens in spring. They all become gray green by late August. Sorry about Bob. He sounded like a good guy. I hate this part of Internet friends. It's like they weren't there. Except for what they leave behind in the never to be destroyed world of internets. Sigh...life is such a dispicable thing some times.
ya, Sherry.... sometimes life sucks....and I am proud to say.."I don't get it" and I think I never really want to.
Awesome garden!
As for the green grass of spring, my sprinkler system is down and the only thing growing are the weeds. Remarkable plants really, too bad they don't count because if they did I am sure I could kill them and have actual grass grow in its place.
Thanks. This post was really lovely. I like the way you think and the way you feel. I'll come back again.
I hate when friends and loved ones die, it sucks, really sucks I tell ya!!
Bob's garden is masterful, I would love to walk barefoot through it..
<3
Thank you for introducing me to your friend Bob. I've just spent 15 minutes reading through the past few months of his blog posts and he sounds to have been a wise and happy man. He certainly grew a beautiful garden. A long time ago I had a dream that's stayed with me ever since. I was walking up a grassy hillside on a clear blue sky day and I heard a voice beside me say 'the color of heaven is green'.
The Shel Silverstein poem is a beauty.
Sue...just hang in there, barefoot weather is coming.
Susan...it was an unexpected pleasure to have found his writing. It always made me think a little... and a little is plenty for me.
Thank you for writing this, Jim, about our mutual blog friend. Bob lived an amazing life and to visit him in his green fields and watch things grow in his amazing garden was always a marvelous experience. He gave me green grass to walk in even during the harsh winter.
Bummer. I followed Bob for a while, and was familiar with his area of Wisconsin. I'm saddened to hear of his passing:(
hansi...//familiar with that part of Wisconsin//... hhmmm how's that? I grew up about fifty miles North of where Bob was.
That garden looks like heaven, and Bob sounds like a wonderful man.I just read his "No Regrets" post and cried like a baby.
Wish I'd known him.
Hugs, Jim.
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