April 6, 2007
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Edited to add: read his comment and you’ll see the changes I made.
[That drunkpunches has some eye hunh?
Memories Have No Age
It’s Easter, and I’m dying eggs the same pretty pastels I hunted and hid. I’ll make the first asparagus of the year, and that taste, with a little butter and lemon, will remind me of the fancy brunches I always did. Spring is my favorite time, the cumulative effect making it more precious each year. The first seeds sewn, the first shorts to brave bare legs; it’s a time of optimism, which you need in Oregon, as the forecast calls for rain.
The sun made an appearance around ten. I strolled through the front with my coffee while Bridget zipped back and forth. The yard needed to be mowed but I wanted to weed. This was my first yard work of the season, as our weather has been uncooperative. I started out by the mailbox under the big fir tree. Friendly neighbors and young mothers with strollers said hello and admired the dog. Here in Oregon we are so damn grateful for sun by this time of year that there is a general feeling of euphoria on a day like today. People’s tulips are popping open and the smell of fresh-cut grass signals a shift. That shift signals memories. It happens every year, and each year I am older, but memories have no age.
The long, cold winter is over, and people are back outside. I got on my bike the other day and rode around the neighborhood, admiring people’s yards. These are old houses with mature gardens where people still take care of their own. The advantage is diversity; people’s flowers aren’t all the same. Now, most folks have their yards done by men who bring truckfulls of annuals, every yard alike. This neighborhood believes in perennials, flowers that come back. The lots are big and the trees are old, allowing birds to thrive. Happy chirping triggered my first memory of spring. I would lie on a blanket in the grass, watching the bird’s nest in our backyard. I might have been six.
I washed off the deck furniture and ate outside today, enjoying the privacy now that the trees are back in bloom. After lunch I laid out in my underwear. Even though it wasn’t a bikini it felt the same when I shut my eyes against the sun’s glare. It felt like I was 19, listening to Abbey Road on my mother’s patio.
“Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter.
Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here.
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,
and I say, it’s all right.”Copyright 2007 by Pd Brown
Comments (26)
It was a lovely day, wasn’t it?
You bring spring to my place with your post. It is a beautiful post. Thank you!
It is spectacular, isn’t it. Spring here rushes by quickly and one has to truly stop or they’ll miss it. With the wildflowers blooming there is this smell of sweetness everywhere…it’s a smell that no other place i have been to has.
i also thought about dying eggs, but i don’t have the energy this year. hell, this is the FIRST year i am not contributing something home baked to easter dinner. i am still in my winter it seems…
What a glorious welcome-to-Spring read. Thank you. They threatened changing weather, but its around 14 and sunny and beautiful and the baby lambs are a-bahhhahaaaing in the fields.
Sounds wonderful. We dyed eggs with our son last night. Spring is just not the same in Florida as it is up north, though . . .
I would love to mow the lawn right now — ours is still covered in 4 feet of snow! But we did get some wonderful sunshine this week, so I totally understand that euphoria you write about. I’m glad to see that you are enjoying the change in seasons.
Have a wonderful Easter!
Had to giggle at the thought of laying out in your underwear and feeling like it was your bikini from back when. Your descriptions are such a delight to my senses. Happy Easter Pru and eat a nice piece of chocolate too!! marilyn
I still love the piece, but reading each sentence separately, I can see what you mean about the rhythm. It is steady, because all of your sentences are of the same length and around the same structure. It sounds like you’re retelling a day, but it still seems effortless, if a bit methodical/dreamlike. It’s almost as if you’re dictating a vision firsthand, which is, I guess, what you’re doing. I’ll read it again in a couple of days (or hours) and see what else I can comment on.
Thanks for your love.
Is there any other weather, in Oregon? hehehe
My dog can tell time. If I’m still home by 9:30pm, Peaches is sitting beside me, anxiously awaiting those magic words, “Do you want to go see ‘JD’?” lol At that, she’s spinning and jumping and doing the happy-panting thing. She’s such a joy.
Happy Easter!
I love you…GFW
This was beautiful. I got transfixed at the last three paragraphs. And more so with each one and it did not disappoint in the slightest at the end.
And, I am now craving asparagus. Have fun today!
ryc: Nick’s gay. I know! He knows too. It would have been a great match that way, but it still can be another way. It always has been. Anyway, he farts too much to be a mate of mine and I told him so.
classic yurp writing! totally classic!
it’s nice having you back!
I just reread Memories Have No Age. This is the post you wanted some feedback on right? I hope anyway.
This is just opinion.
I think the first paragraph belongs in another post. It’s actually a separate idea and theme from the rest of the post. Cut the first paragraph, I’m not saying trash it– just develop it elsewhere.
With that edit, Memories Have No Age would start with the second paragraph– but I don’t think that’s really true either. I think that the last paragraph should be first paragraph.
With that edit, the last image is of a 19 year old bikinied Prudy listening to Sgt Pepper. (Always leave ‘em wanting more). That might mean small streamlining snips like “With the long cold winter over…” and the like.
It’s a purely subjective call. Your current last paragraph is wry and conversational. I think it’s a better opener than closer. And personally, I think your current second to last paragraph has the more powerful ending image.
One thing I didn’t have a problem with was the rhythm of the short. It’s deliberate and consistent. Slice of life works well with a comfortable voice.
oh so true about those shorts.
…a lot of joi de vivre oozing out of this post…i like how spring does that ; )
We are in the middle of a cold snap.
I so can hear that song and the smells and sunshine
Okay, it was interesting to see the edit. I wish I remembered the first better to compare but this is lovely. That drunkpunches has some eye hunh?
I used to walk home up Abbey Road all the time, cross that crossing too. I always had a song going through my head when I did. Little Darling is a lovely one.
I don’t know about US law, but in the UK, copyright exists the moment a piece is created and there is no need to write it. I suspect its the same in the US.
it is a lovely piece of writing. I gave up copy-editing when I stopped being paid for it and I’m probably only doing it on your blog because Boowasborn did it on mine and then shot herself in the foot!
Since you are ok on feedback about the writing, ”dying eggs” should be “dyeing” and “sewn” should be “sown”. There are a couple more and a few grammatical changes too, but why be picky
btw, I don’t agree with DrunkPunches on the first paragraph, I like it: it puts you in the scene in a much more personal way than relying on your actions in the second paragraph could. Journal-writing where one knows the author only virtually is always more interesting to read when a little more knowledge of the person is given.
There, blame Boo!
“here comes the sun.”
I love those words!
Thanks for the addition of the music at the end. Hmm, I guess I like some of the changes, but it feels more contrived now to me somehow. I guess I’m just a fan of your original cadences, even if you’re not
Love you!
Great eye yourself, Prudy! I used most of your suggestions and considered the other. This thing, though not perfect (it never will be), is being sent out TODAY! I’m sick of thinking about it. Much love and thanks!
I love this piece. HOWEVER…you used the word “sewn” instead of “sown” in the first paragraph.
The one thing I’m able to criticize. I really do love it!
This creates a good mood, and brings back my own, though different, memories. I like it.