Some seven years back, exploring the Menil art museums in Houston, Texas, I came upon a gallery devoted to the works of Cy Twombly. I had no knowledge of this artist and at first was taken aback by the amount of space devoted to a painter who liked to doodle and scribble on large canvases without evidence of much forethought, or concern about composition or polish. Some of them had material in only one corner of the canvas, as though he'd jotted a grocery list, then wandered off. But as we walked from room to room, a power in his work dealt me a dazzling blow. What was this about?

Then I found one piece with some fish and meandering words in his inimitable terrible hand. My first reaction was - this is mine! I, a first-time visitor, had created this. I never had that feeling before about another person's art, nor since, but it was as though I'd stumbled upon something I'd left behind in another life. More realistically, I felt a bond with the artist who a few minutes ago I hadn't known at all.

We took leave of the building to find another artist's works - neon light tubes in a large space reminiscent of a skating rink. But first we gabbed with a gallery employee who was handing pecans to a squirrel outside, and who gave us each a pecan to offer to the boisterous-tailed resident.

pogy

many years have passed
since i stood near the pier
on the mississippi coast
and watched the pogy
catching light over water
as they swam and leapt
fast and silvery
under afternoon sun
churning water into foam
the dolphins and sand sharks
not so far behind
now I'm far from sea
the pogy sail
through dreamy trees
as though to say
'remember me'

America the Beautiful coins

In 2010, the United States Mint began to issue a series of quarters (25 cents) honoring our national parks and monuments. They are called 'America the Beautiful Quarters'. Last month, June 2013, the 18th coin in this series was introduced: Great Basin National Park (in Nevada). Two others have entered the currency flow this year: White Mountain National Forest (in New Hampshire) and Perry's Victory and International Peace Memorial(in Ohio). Still to come this year: Fort McHenry National Monument and Historic Shrine (in Maryland), and Mount Rushmore National Memorial (in South Dakota). I've come across the Denali, the Crater Lake, and the Hawaii Volcanoes coins, and have been moved by the beauty of their designs. The series is expected to continue to introduce new coins at a rate of five per year at least through 2021.

(Image above courtesy of Wikimedia Commons: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:ATBQ_2010_WY_Yellowstone.jpg)

walking
one foot two foot
up and down beneath the streetlights
the timing of planting
shovel, shovel
pat pat pat
taste the earth
silence has a timing too,
the heart's pulse
we feel and catch the gracious wave
all is failing
keep the beat

meet the possum at night
where moonlight mingles
with the shadow of leaves

Breakfast in Mentone, Alabama

1973 was the last year I visited Mentone, Alabama. During the summer in the 1930s, my mother's family drove north from New Orleans to stay at the lodge for a break from the sticky heat. My parents continued the tradition a few times with us kids. Mentone was a very small town in northeast Alabama, near Fort Payne, perched up in the southern edge of the Smoky Mountains. The Smokies are old, soft, weathered sedimentary mountains, unlike the sharp-edged Rockies out west. The lodge was rural, not gated or fenced, just situated in the middle of heavenly nowhere. The only cars were the few arriving or leaving. You could fish in the creeks, walk to see waterfalls, explore caves. Grownups spent a lot of time on the front porch of the lodge, just breathing in the mountain air, conversing with other guests, and watching the birds, the butterflies, and, at nightfall, the lightning bugs. Sometimes the grownups would go into the yard to play shuffleboard or horseshoes with their kids.

There was a big bell in front of the lodge and the cabin house. Not certain, but breakfast may have been at 9 on weekdays, and 10 on weekends. Ten minutes before breakfast, someone would come out and ring the bell. When breakfast was arriving at the tables, the bell was rung once again.

By the second bell, just about everybody was already gathered inside. No one wanted to miss the food. The mountain air made you hungry, and just as you thought you might faint, there came the couple who owned the lodge and their helpers, carrying bowls of steaming food to the two long tables with their clean tablecloths, good utensils, and cloth napkins. The old china bowls and platters, patterned with flowers, held steaming grits, scrambled eggs, strips of crisp bacon, and fresh biscuits, still dusted lightly with the flour from the rolling pin. There was a plate with curls of butter, and bowls with strawberry or peach preserves. Glass pitchers of milk, water, and orange juice were at the end of each table, and coffee was served once everybody was seated. No, no one was late for breakfast.

You don't forget a breakfast like that, now like a dream, so vividly real then - the bell, the friendly voices, the smell of the bacon and eggs, the sunlight on the tables, the clean, cool mountain air.

When we fed the animals in winter, there was hay, and then there was good hay. Hay was straw. Good hay was alfalfa - more substance and nutrition and a green fragrance that alerted the mind like the air before a thunderstorm. The bales when I was a kid were long and squared off. We'd take a few squares to toss to the goats and horse. Most of the bales I see now are cylindrical. Alfalfa is used to make food products for other animals, such as rabbits. This spring, I bought some rabbit food (alfalfa pellets) to help nourish the depleted soil when planting. The tomato vines now are wild and crazy and taller than me, full of blooms and clusters of fruit. Not sure that its the alfalfa, but the alfalfa didn't hurt.

According to the World Dictionary (2009), the word alfalfa comes from the Arabic term al-fasfasah. This means 'the best sort of fodder'.