The other day I found myself frolicking in a meadow. I guess I don't mean "found" as in "I had no idea where I was or what I was doing before I looked down to spot myself doing grands jetés in a poppy field." Actually, I do mean that.

The poppy field was more like a pocked yard of rye grass by a drainage ditch of a river that smelled like my grandfather's bedpan, and the grands jetés were more like joints I bummed from my friend. But I was frolicking. Hard.

I was picking flowers, chasing ducks, throwing Frisbees, wetting borrowed pants, all in the bright sunshine of a field that had apparently been used by every dog who could hunch himself into a comma and drop Baby Ruth since World War II. Once you got past the piles of canine Lincoln Logs and the Katrina-force winds, it really was a good time.

Well, I can't say I enjoyed the kite flying so much. The wind was so strong that I Dorothy Gale'd into Louisiana several times before finally remembering that, to me, kite flying is about as fun as a home-invasion robbery. So I switched to the Frisbee, which is a marginally fun one-person activity.

Thirty-five seconds later, I watched the Frisbee float downstream on an egret turd, and decided to pick flowers. With flowers scarce, I picked at a three-leaf vine growing on the creek bank that turned my arms red and blistered my hands with happiness. Oh, the beauty of God's creation!

Then, I squinted into the golden light and spotted a lovely girl in the field walking toward me. I rubbed my oily hands on my eyes to make sure I wasn't dreaming. Nope. There she was – wearing a sundress that clung to her legs like a scared child, and her hair flowing like the mane of a champion. I walked up to her and asked if she would toss the ball with me, and maybe let me take her on as a lover for the spring.

She punched me and I cried, not from the ambiguous rejection, but because of the pure beauty of spring. In fairness, I would have seen the punch coming, but my eyes were swollen shut by this time.

I walked aimlessly and sightlessly downhill and fell into the water. As the smell of untreated sewage and antifreeze overtook me, I thanked God for springtime in the urban beauty of our current Trinity Park.

Hear Gordon on "The Ticket" KTCK-AM (1310) weekdays from 5:30 to 10 a.m. E-mail him at gordon@gordonkeith.com.

Print