The Meadow: The Faintest Green Sheen

I had hoped to work in the Ranger Station today, a run-through for the first workshop on Sunday, which is forecast (at last!) with plenty of rain. The doors were locked, why? For renovations or deep cleaning or budget cuts? I got to meet the Park Supervisor, Gregory Tarver Ph.D. A large man with a mask and a vest, he apologized and said there were safety issues. Frustrated but understanding—could be the virus, could be dry rot, they both are relentless—I  cautiously headed down to the Meadow with my art bag, where I found one dry picnic table.

There weren't as many kids in the park as there were last time I was here. It's been cold and it rained last night. It was supposed to be raining today and the skies were grey, but the clouds were high. I took my chances and cracked opened my enormous sketchbook, the one that will hold our story. I needed to transpose the "shout-out" sections of my songs into something more portable. The old posters were moldy from being in my basement, and falling apart from so many years of flapping around, blowing away in gusts of wind like they did...

Transposing the shout-outs in an empty meadow.

There was only one drop, onto the cover, and it came from the branches high above me. That tree had caught all the moisture that had fallen on all the other tables.  I wiped the little bead away and dove in, keeping my umbrella handy of course. 

As I turned each page and touched my brand new fat Sharpie to the blank paper, I could feel a part of myself coming alive again. My hands have this confidence that always surprises me. Instead of trying to mimic the computer-spewn block letters (Arial Black, I'm sure), they wanted each page to look different. I heard the shouts of kids in my mind, and let the feeling of each exclamation dictate the shape of the letters. These pages will be embellished by the time I'm done. The task flew by, and I felt a wonderful satisfaction at having begun.

The rain was still pending as I packed up to go. I walked a little, noticing the faintest green sheen on the dry, parched meadow after last night's rain. Nothing to write home about, but maybe something to blog about, just a little. I could feel the eagerness of life to begin again after a such tired time, just waiting for a little encouragement.


  1. Nothing to write home about - but to blog about? Sure!

    1. Lovely, I am filing a complaint about the Ranger Station being closed when I was there 10/9 with both the OPW Call Center and with Joe DeVries, head of the Joaquin Miller Park Task Force. For anyone reading and concerned about closures (with no reason posted), please also send an email to and


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