When my daughter was in first grade, my mother sent her a bug shirt for her birthday. It was a huge shirt with all kinds of insects on it, and it quickly became her favorite sleep shirt. She liked to pick her favorite bug-of-the night before going to sleep from "Grandma's bug shirt."
Yes, my mom loved that shirt. She loved bugs. I remember the time we chased a wolf spider around the kitchen because I wanted to take it to school to show to my teacher who had told me there was no spider bigger than a hand in Virginia. The two of us were leaping all over the kitchen with buckets in our hands, trying to get that spider.
Garrison Keillor
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I sit looking up at that skinny triangular tower and a man and woman sit
down a few feet away; he’s wearing a sweatshirt with a big TEXAS on it and
I say...
Organisms in Action
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… that ecological niche was assumed to exist … This is from The Triple
Helix: Gene, Organism, and Environment by Richard Lewontin (2000, 1998): …
There is ...
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Well, I've closed (almost) one chapter of this year's schoolwork. Next
Friday I'll go up to Monson for the kids' show opening, but I'm done with
schoolte...
Towards a Working Class Bible
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Nature promised man little. Many working poor rage against God for their
place. The water is too deep, so we drift through life. A little more wind
for the...
Human Rights Day Today
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The Nobel Peace Prize this year went to Narges Mohammadi, 51, of Iran. She
was arrested 13 times, convicted for five and sentenced to a total of 31
years ...
Stay away from the pool
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My mother & I were visiting a friend of hers who was living in an apartment
complex that I regarded at the time as positively palatial, what for the
commun...
In Memory of Ed Ochester, Poet & Editor, RIP
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We have asked Ed Ochester (above) to edit our Sunday poetry pages for the
next few months. Here is one of Ed's poems: March of the Penguins The
editor of N...
“In spite of all the learned have said ...”
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Philip Freneau
Philip Freneau (1752-1852) was a journalist and poet in the early years our
country was forming. And, oh, by the way, I once wrote an under...
Jason Tandon
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Born in Hartford, CT in 1975, Jason Tandon is the author of four books of
poetry, including *The Actual World*, *Quality of Life*, and *Give Over the
Hec...
Balance is important in design
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Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit. Aenean commodo
ligula eget dolor. Aenean massa. Cum sociis Theme natoque penatibus et
magnis dis ...
Feeding therapy FINALLY!!
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There is so much to catch up on and yet so little. I have noticed that the
last year has felt like an inward journey and so telling a story hasn’t
fe...
One year gone ...
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*Meeting Mark Mothersbaugh*
Today marks one year as editor of *Fresh Water *for me. Man-o-man, what a
ride it has been. Despite the intensity of the job, o...
I'm still here
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Just posting here to let anyone know (whoever is still dropping by from
time to time) that I still haven't disappeared, I've just been spending
time away f...
2015 Mini Gift Guide
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A mini last-minute gift guide...it's been quite some time since I've
posted. But I love the holidays so much and sharing gifts that I think
would be great ...
In a Landscape - The Playlist
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John Cage, “In a Landscape”
Bob Dylan, “My Back Pages”
Neil Young, “Ambulance Blues”
The Twilight Zone Theme
Babylon 5 Theme
Simon & Garfunkel, “Richard Co...
3 comments:
Ha, you left out the fact she sent the exact same shirt - a Beefy Ts XL - for my 13th birthday!
Yes, my mom loved that shirt. She loved bugs. I remember the time we chased a wolf spider around the kitchen because I wanted to take it to school to show to my teacher who had told me there was no spider bigger than a hand in Virginia. The two of us were leaping all over the kitchen with buckets in our hands, trying to get that spider.
You are too modest -- that is a very, very fine Stag Beetle, Nin.
Worthy of Edward Lear.
You are getting brilliant at this.
Myself I've always been partial to
Harmonia axyridis, or Lady Beetle
who made Cock Robin's shroud
with her thread and needle
in the sixth from top image in
Who Killed Cock Robin? A Mystery.
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