Hmmm. Maybe it's a little better down the street...
No tiptoeing to dry weewee ground this way, so out the back door for us. When I biked home from Rebekka's the night before, I saw the roadblocks up on our street, which only means one thing: Floods, dey is a-comin'. Though it was as dry as a Danish joke that night, the next morning was, of course, far wetter -- a good foot deep of mucky brown harbor water. Oh, the aroma! Maybe the city worker guys are all tide experts, or maybe they sleep with almanacs under their pillows, but they ALWAYS know when these floods will come, blocking off the street to cars hours beforehand. The only real tragedy about this is all of the hundreds of starfish and jellyfish who perish on the road, wondering how they hell they got there to begin with. I've tossed a few baby startfish back into the harbor, but it always feels kind of futile. Besides, who am I to play God, right? Maybe I'm robbing the next seagull Jonas Salk from the meal he needs to gain the strength to cure cancer? Or the next seagull Tchaikovsky the opportunity for another tomorrow to compose a brilliant new opus? SIGH. Circle of life, circle of life. So much to think about these days. The water's gone now.
(Did you know that the Danish word for jellyfish is "vandmand," which literally means "water man"? Don't you think that is just nifty??)
1 comment:
Hmm.. that reminds me of the day I left Mt Vernon, WA - except there the townsfolk were all stuffing sand in bags and trying to hold downtown from the flood of the century - or something.
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