Mudpuddle Day (1)

On the day of the big rain, I went puddle walking in my shoes of green plastic and leather laces.

I took one jump in every puddle and water splashed up around my knees. Little pieces of puddle landed on my sweater and got tangled up in the strands of wool. I went from puddle to puddle to puddle.

I thought: "If only I could be forever in a mudpuddle day."

And then, it happened. One puddle gave way and down I sank, floating deeper and deeper into the fullest puddle I'd ever set shoes in. I floated down and rain filled my socks and my pockets and eventually flooded my woolen blue cap.

There's a land that I heard of once, in a lullaby...

The Little Wave

Once upon the sea, there was a little wave.

He would wave up and over the shore, and then he would fall back into the sea. Back and forth, the wave would go -- until one day, he grew tired of waving, and decided to stop.

The other waves pushed past him, up and onto the sand, and then rushed back past him on their way back to the sea. He was causing quite the jam. But the little wave stayed put.

"What do you think you are? A buoy?!" someone asked.

"You've got to keep moving, kid!" and older wave shouted.

But no one could make the little wave move. He just floated there in the middle of it all.

"Don't you ever wonder why we wave?" he asked.


"We're waves," they would say, "it's what we do."

But the little wave didn't see the point of it all. 

One day, during the little wave's strike, a little duck, covered in corn-colored fuzz, fell into the sea.

"HELP!" he squeaked.

"What are you doing out here?" the little wave asked.

"I was sitting in my nest," the little duck said, "eating my dinner, when an eagle came swooping down and grabbed me. He took off across the sky and I wiggled for dear life, and I guess it worked, because he dropped me, and then I fell down for a very long time and landed in your lap. And now I am terribly lost, and I just want to get back on land and into my nest."

"Well," said the little wave, "you have landed in the right lap. I know just what to do."

The little wave held the duckling and took a wave toward the shore. Then he waved again -- and again -- and soon the little duck went tumbling onto the sand."

"Thank you!" he cried.

"You're welcome," said the little wave. "I'm a wave. It's what I do!"

Boggis and Bunce and Bean
One fat, one short, one lean.
These horrible crooks
So different in looks
Were nonetheless equally mean.

That is what the children round about used to sing when they saw them.

-- from The Fantastic Mr. Fox by Roald Dahl

Drought of July, 2013

07.31.2013

It hasn't rained in days. Thirty-three or thirty-seven or maybe more -- I know it hasn't rained all month. 

The lawns look like they've been thrown in with the whites and bleached all over, except for a few splotches of green. Everything is so dry and brittle and I feel that way, too. If someone bumped into me, I might lose a finger or an ear or at least bits of my hair. I am dry and tired. I need rain. 

When I water the tomatoes and snapdragons, I let the hose pass over my shoes and the tops of my feet. Then I walk around the sharp grass with wet shoes, imagining they are puddles. 

It has been so long since I saw a puddle, much less jumped in one. Oh! to plop heavy into a soggy puddle of mud! To feel little splatters of wet reach up to my knees and my hands! No one else seems to miss the clouds or the rain or the wet. Everyone is barbecuing and wearing shorts and ignoring the brown lawns. The whole town is tan and smiling. 

But I think I might trade my whole garden of sun-ripened tomatoes for just one mud puddle day.

08.02.2013

It rained today! Oh, it rained today! I can hardly believe it: it rained today!

It was hardly a downpour -- it was barely a sprinkle. But the clouds covered the town and I spent the day in the shade, hidden from the sun. This morning, I walked through the grey and let the rain fall on my hair. I let the rain splash on the tops of my feet and wash away the dust on my sandals. I stepped in every little puddle I found. 

The lawns are still bleached brown, and the flowers still look tired, but the air smells like wet sidewalks and I feel just a little bit wetter. 

little book little pages

Listen!
There was a little girl at a party
and she was very beautiful.
Her face was beautiful.
Her dress was beautiful.
Her feet were beautiful.
Everybody said, "How beautiful!"
And she was rich too.
But the other girls at the party didn't care
because they all had warm bathrobes.

[From Everything Under a Mushroom by Ruth Krauss]