Saturday, May 4, 2013
Let Someone Bury Tamerlan Tsarnaev So We Can Move On Already
I saw the swallows this afternoon as I was going across the field with a wheelbarrow load of manure. The telltale zig and zag and the forked wings of the two criss-crossing above me, dipping down to greet me, was one of those rare thrills that give meaning to the quote, was it Mark Twain who said, "the best things in life are not things." Okay, thank you Google. It was Art Buchwald. Still, the sights of spring, God bless them: the nourishing sunlight filling the whole line of vision in blue and green and gold, blossoms bursting on the plum, cherry, peach and apple trees, the lambs racing in a madcap pack and the horses bucking and shaking their manes in sheer joy. This is when you wouldn't want to be anywhere else. I don't post my photographs because this is a particular and special joy for me, and I'm sure others have the same feelings of specialness about their home places at this time of year. No matter where you are, the energy of the seasons is what keeps us surging, optimistic that our efforts are building to something meaningful and rewarding; the journey across the calendar year is not for nothing. The swallows are back, and I was there to see them when they got here. It doesn't get any better. Someone should have told that to the Tsarnaev boys.