My Descent
Black cows dotting the straw blonde hills transform my drive into visual poetry. As I reach the hill’s crest, I see them more and more until the descent begins, and they fade in the rear-view mirror, becoming tiny chocolate chips. Then I am among the deep green tree tops, pine, oak, and others that I don’t know by name. A pair of raptors is circling to my left. Momentarily, I am one of them, hovering just above the canopy.
My rapid descent continues. The smorgasbord of beauty has left me keen to find more. Dried thistles, tall and brittle, appear. I recall seeing thistles like these for the first time when I was 18. Purple and green, then, not unlike myself. Both of my eyes had been bruised in a recent car accident. I was greener to the world than those thistles, but just as prickly. This flash of memory, as I pass these nodding herbal cronies, elicits a smile.
The wonder of seeing thistles for the first time is present with me as my descent nears completion. At the bottom of the hill, a dead dog lies on the shoulder of the road, on its back, legs in the air. I have to slam on my brakes to avoid hitting the car in front of me. I’m so distracted by the dead dog. Sad, yes, and churning through thoughts of calling animal control, as if this could somehow help the poor beast by putting its spirit to rest. Somebody's pet. From the houses along the outflow channel, near the thistles. Somebody is worrying about him, wondering where he has gone.
Consider “hearting” this post so that more people can discover my work on Substack. I’d love to hear from you in the comments, especially if you remember the first time you saw a particular plant. Oh yeah, and, if you haven’t already…