Bonnie and Clyde Files 18

Impressions from the river.

The river is sort of gray and definitely slack.

Drizzle on three consecutive visits to the dog sanctuary.

I am wearing the jeans I got married in 20 years ago. I am wearing the wristwatch my then wife presented me as a substitute for a wedding ring.

These jeans are faded and threadbare and have grass stains in both knees. I taught hundreds of school days in these jeans. I got grass stains while teaching in them. I used to go to the ground with my teaching and life. When I went to the ground, I got those stains. It occurs to me that grass stains in the knees of your jeans is a good metaphor for how to live.

I want new grass stains for my jeans. How in the world will I ever be able to get them now?

In the distance, I hear sounds of logging, excavation, and heavy equipment.

Bonnie is looking for something in the river. Aren’t we all?

Clyde’s muzzle is inches from my pocket as I sit on my camp stool and write these impressions.

I picked a few blackberries enroute to the river and tasted them. Close. Summer blackberry harvest on the Oregon Coast is almost here. I will harvest. I might even get blackberry stains in the knees of my corduroys. All my pants used to have either grass or blackberry stains on them. That’s how I used to live.

I got away from that. It went wrong for me.

Return to the stains! How is that for a motto?

Question: will Clyde eat blackberries? I will find out.

Lots of poetry and prose about blackberries..from Walt Whitman to Tom Robbins to Emily Dickinson (I think).

The Black Crowes even wrote a song about blackberries called “Blackberry.” Whenever I hear a Black Crowes song, I think of exactly one person in the world and will only think of that person whenever I hear the Black Crowes. I wonder if that person is reading this?

I’ve written my fair share of prose about blackberries. I need to write more.

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