MAYBE SOME DECORATIVE GOURDS

Each year at around this time I start experiencing fantasies that have to do with vegetables - no not like that, get your mind out of there - more like maybe I'll grow some yellow crooknecks this year and order some wax bean seeds, put in some zucchini, some acorn squash and of course a few butternuts, some corn too yes a couple rows of corn, to say nothing of tomatoes and cucumbers and what would really be good would be some of those wait a minute Bob you're getting vegedelerious, get a grip, how many fingers am I holding up, let's not get carried away here you don't have the entire mountainside to plant, it's just a few dozen square meters you got out there, with already spinach and chard in the ground, onions and garlic, turnips as well, and Japanese veggies, get hold of yourself put down that catalog, those catalogs too, and those-- Walk around don't run, take some deep breaths and don't forget there are bugs and monkeys you're supporting out there and -- I don't know who's doing the talking, some inner therapist who's always hanging around trying to keep me on some ridiculously rational path and sure enough, the commonly agreed reality slowly creeps back into my seed-filled brain, I shake my head it seems to rattle like a decorative gourd, I rub my eyes to clear my vision; I look at the calendar and sure enough it's right about the same time as it was last year when this happened, same point every time, just on the cusp of Spring, same sort of thing used to happen when I was a kid, I'd get kind of a groggy fever of unspecified desire that would clarify in those younger, suitably objectiveless years into marbles or yoyos, and since I was regularly fed by others I could care less about things like seeds and planting and growing stuff you could buy right now but instead wait MONTHS for, are you kidding me, and flowers? no way, what would the guys think, you crazy? That was how it was back then, but Spring ever has that effect on the mind and this year now that I'm at the promontory of life with these delightfully chronic views I'll settle for my usual garden stuff plus a little something new, though in addition I think I'll maybe I'll plant some of these and these... sorry can't chat anymore gotta order some seeds now where did I put all those catalogs...

YO-YO POSSIBILITIES

That mystic scent is in the air, that primal provocation from out of the earth itself, that tells me even at my age to dig out the bag of marbles from wherever I put it last year and, with that intense ardor native to childhood, polish up the catseyes and immies, puries and steelies, then go out and dig my heel into some springsoft earth for potsies - next to a sidewalk is good - or take a stick and engrave a circle on a flat piece of ground and rustle up some serious play-for-keeps ringsies, with no dropsies, or stompsies-- or I could dust off my silver and gold yo-yo and practice Sleeping and Rock the Cradle and Walk the Dog, essential skills every one, because soon the Philippine yo-yo champs will be coming for their spring visit to the candy but yo-yo store over by school, where they'll stand outside for an afternoon and chat with the bouncy crowd of yo-yo fans who'll come from all over the neighborhood, the champs will do some new tricks, teach some old tricks, amaze us all with the yo-yo possibilities of life, maybe even carve some palm trees into the sides of my yo-yo, impart some tropical magic for doing those new tricks, what excitement, Spring is here...

FINDING MY MARBLES

The first scent of Spring, that blended earth-perfume so pleasantly borne on a chill wind, of imminent buddings and primal seed-stirrings, always wistfully reminds me that it's time to get out my marbles and dig a hole in the ground. Correlatively it reminds me that I lost my marbles years ago-- but anyway each Spring I get to recall them with fondness.

As a marble substitute I get out the tools and start prepping the earth of my garden, in good time venturing to the farm store to buy some seeds of whatever monkeys hate, which is an odd way to plan one's garden, but in Japan means lots of exotic greens, and anyway adaptability is an indication that marbles of some kind are still operative. This year it will be a couple kinds of spinach, radishes, various of those greens, hot peppers and herbs.

I'm doing it this way because I just can't (yet) get myself to put up a stalag out there around my vegetables, but one day I'll have to, if I want to grow tomatoes, carrots, onions, pumpkins, squashes, cucumbers watermelons—well, whatever I'm not growing this year, and didn't grow last year. But as I dig and plant, I am as always rewarded. Surrounded by that heady scent, I realize that I haven't lost my marbles at all, they were just one bright talisman in the steady parade of delights that is a growing life, an early excuse to dig in the constant earth and learn where beauty can always be found.