Babbies

Monday, 2 June 2003

Spring hath affronted me with her most blatant display of new life, babbies [the british version of the word]. Most everywhere I have been today, I’ve seen babby aminals. First this morning, there were ducklings. All over the place along the river, trundling after their parental duck. No drakes were to be seen. Damn missing fathers.

Then a bit later, right before work was out, I almost trod upon a babby wabbit. I crouched down and spoke with it for a moment, but alas it whipped off all too soon. If I had felt right about it, I could have quite easily picked it up and made off with it. A heinous babby-snatcher.

Then after dropping Jeremy off at home, I almost flattened some goslings. They are already as big as ducks, but still quite downy, I am not going to enjoy running along the river once the piles of goose shit start to swell.

Something I always heard, somewhere else, I don’t quite remember, its one of those nebulous pieces of pseudo-fact/humor that seem to osmose into the cerebellum – is that God/Nature made babbies as cute as they are so that their parents won’t kill them. The only thing keeping infants from dire doom is their cuteness. I’d probably want to kill an ugly something that screamed at me all day and required all of my attention.

Its a good thing I like children.

First Day of Spring

Thursday, 11 April 2002

the first true day of spring! whoohoo so many people laying around and skipping class. it was nice to see that some people still enjoy nature, even if it is only once in awhile. i wrote a pome about it.

Spring Returned

Tuesday, 2 April 2002

i woke up this morning and the sky was the color of a week old bruise, and the air was filled with the noise of thunder. to some people this would be ugly, but for me it is both frightening and wonderful. i love the sound of thunder and the feel of rain on my face. it is awe-inspiring to watch the thunderheads race each other across the sky, dropping their wet luggage in a bid to be the first to reach wherever it is that old storms go to die. i want to follow along, skipping from puddle to puddle and melting into the warm deluge of Spring Returned.