Outside

...

I could barely believe the beauty of Manhattan Beach. Lemon trees and succulents in nearly every front yard, warm and fragrant breezes, my feet in soft sand after a painfully long winter. I’d never before attended a wedding held outside in the rain, but now I can heartily recommend it: huge smiles peeking out from under dripping raincoat hoods and umbrellas, steam rising from the pavement, the sound of water all around. ...

I’m reusing last year’s bamboo tomato teepees (assembled and installed Martha-style last spring) to support my tomato plants. Bamboo supports are natural and biodegradable, cheap, and a lot nicer in appearance (in my opinion) than metal cages. This year I added jute twine to provide side support for the plants as they grow in the center of each teepee, something that Martha’s gardener did not really discuss but something that I definitely could have used last summer. I tied one end of the jute to the first pole, wrapped the twine around the second and third poles, then returned to the first pole and tied it off. I added enough layers of these “triangles” to hopefully let me weave the growing plants in and out for support. ...

I receive an email from my landlord. Our lease here will be renewed for one final year. Two hours later, I plant the first seeds of spring in newspaper pots and set them under the grow light to germinate. I’m so far behind, but I couldn’t bear to start seeds this year, not with a household move looming. But now, this unexpected change of plans. I think I can catch up. ...

So many below freezing days, and then this storm of heavy and wet snowflakes that stung our cheeks as we walked. The pond, transformed by a layer of ice and snow, was a white meadow ringed by bare trunks. I snapped a few photos and then the wind told us it was time to turn back. Just as we started on our way home, I looked down and noticed: she’d worn her purple sneakers instead of her boots. Silly girl.

I leave the trail and follow a narrow deer path along the shoreline to a small, sheltered cove. I stand very still in sparse underbrush and listen to voices echo across the water. I drop to my knees in the middle of a stand of hardwoods. I bring my face close to moss, bugs and fallen leaves. I hover over clusters of soft, grey mushrooms. I stare too long at a patch of sunlight on bark. ...

I sat on that very same flat hometown rock when I was her age, on the side of a rushing cold water creek filled with crayfish and bubbles.

We found a new trail and followed it to its end.

A beautiful fog. The pull of memory. I close my eyes and live a thousand lives.