Z is for Z

is for Z.

There is a beginning - we are fresh, excited, and willing.

There is an end - we are worn out, empty, and dragging.

There was an A. Words flowed. Now Z. ...

We don't like to talk much about endings, do we? Trying to end a book well is not only difficult as a writer, but it's sad too. The experience with characters as they develop is one we want to continue. As a reader, a good book, one that traps me in its pages whether I'm holding it or not, is emotional to finish - I want to know what happens to Frodo and Sam, but I'd also like to keep reading perpetually. It's as though they die when the book is over!

Saying goodbye to people, especially due to a move or a death, is painful too. So much so it can seem unnatural. For the longest time after my grandpa died, especially after our first child was born, I would have thoughts like, "Oh, I've got to tell grandpa!" And for a moment he was still alive.

Y is for Yes

is for Yes.

Yesterday I was fighting fatigue, and I found myself telling my boys no, or not yet, or maybe (just putting them off until I said no later). It's still bugging me.

In I is for Imagination I described a time when I came home and was immersed in play; it's not always like that. There are times, like yesterday, that I say no to something my boys want to do and I don't know why. I might have plans of my own, but even if I don't, it slips out. When I reflect on the fact that I've told them no to a game of baseball, or a trip to the park, I regret it.

Don't get me wrong, my boys need to get used to hearing, and heeding, a no from their parents - but there are different kinds, aren't there? Saying no to slapping a face is not the same as a no to a book because there's a game on TV, or because I'm tired.

X is for Xylem

is for Xylem.

I am fascinated by the structure of a tree - and this may be cheating to talk about trees again, but I can't help it.

Xylem is basically wood, however, it's the part of the tree (or plant) that does the heavy lifting. Through the xylem, and the phloem, water is carried to branches and leaves.

Without this part of the tree, well, there is no tree. The xylem is why it seems trees can defy gravity by pulling water up from the ground. I remember doing science experiments when I was first learning about plants; we used dye and a young translucent plant so we could watch the water travel in what seemed like an impossible way.

W is for Wind

is for Wind.

The obvious nature of this post won't be so obvious to everyone. My family and I live on the plains, and to go a day without wind is unusual.

My mind ends up personifying the wind, whether breeze or gale, and yesterday the boys and I played under a large cottonwood tree - the wind blowing hard. A few times I looked up and listened to the shaking leaves, it sounded like clapping hands. I'm looking forward to when that same tree lets its cottonseed go; if the wind is in attendance, it will seem like snow.

Not only does the wind seem to make human the things around us, it should also remind us of what gave us life in the beginning.

V is for Vapor

is for Vapor.

Every once in a while I'll catch it on my way to work: the vapor rising over the green wheat. I want to stop and walk through it, but I'm usually late. I suppose it's one of those moments, a Robert Frost moment, "...The woods are lovely, dark, and deep/But I have promises to keep..."

Do you have those moments? Something of beauty calls you into it, yet heeding the call is all but impossible - or it seems that way. When the vapor rises from the ground, I've seen it in the early evening lately too, I want to melt into it.

U is for Underdog

is for Underdog.

The underrated, the unlikely, the unable - why do we want them all to prove themselves? And it doesn't matter the event or the contenders, be it sport for team or country, or success in academics, or oppression thrown off in war - those who should not win, should not succeed, or couldn't possibly be free, give us the most pleasure when they do the unthinkable.

Perhaps there are so many underdogs among us, ourselves included, that we need to see the unbelievable. Perhaps it feels a bit like justice, like oppression lifted - even in athletics.

In sports there is no better example than the Dodgers of 1988 - at least, they are why I will always love to see the Dodgers win, and I will always remember their title run.

T is for Trees

is for Trees.

This morning I'm struck by the fact that the T looks like a tree, especially the way it hangs over the r above. I can imagine the r as a shade loving plant, or a nap-taker rocking in a hammock.

I'm struggling to write this post because I know it will be inadequate; there are too many things to say about trees, and not a day passes that I don't admire them no matter the season.

Even though I can't get enough shade, and the warm months are easier for me, I am learning the raw beauty of bare branches. And when those branches begin to warm in the spring air and sap runs to their tips, the color change is in motion before flowers have a chance to win my imagination - that is good for the eyes.