What a Flagger Does for a Living … and Dies For
I wrote this one years ago, but I still bring it out every spring when the roads open up and the construction season begins and since the Olympics are just around the corner in my hometown, and that means a lot of traffic and frustrated people. I thought I’d share it now.
My mother is a Traffic Control Person, also known as a flagger. You know, one of those people in the orange or yellow vest who stop you at construction sites.
Many people hate to see a flagger with a stop or slow sign in their hand step in front of their vehicle. After all, you don’t want to be 2 minutes late to get wherever you are going. Its such a pain in the butt to have to wait a few minutes, or to slow down when traveling through a construction zone. Many people tell my Mother that her job could be replaced by a bucket of sand, just stick the sign in that; who needs some person telling them how to drive?
The purpose of my Mothers job is very clear to her, even if you may not understand it. Her job is to protect the lives… Continue reading
Compost and Stone
Last night I dreamed I was sitting in a grove with a lineaged Traditional Witch or Wiccan.
I am not sure which Path she was on exactly, dreams are like that, but I knew she was hard-nosed Traditional.
We were discussing our different world views and Paths.
She leaned against a large grey boulder or small standing stone and said:
“My Path is like this stone, strong and old; a solid foundation upon which to build.”
Then she pointed to a pile of leaf litter and compost by my feet.
She spoke with smugness when she said:
“Your Path is like a pile of compost, a bunch of different stuff collected in a shapeless heap.”
I was not injured by her words.
I reached out and stirred the compost pile with my hand.
I said:
“Yes. But you can grow things in a compost heap.”
And thus a riot of wild flowers, ivy and herbs sprang forth from the compost and leaf litter.
Covering it with new, fresh, young growth.
I plucked a ripe, red fruit from a Wild Strawberry and asked:
“Can you eat your rock?”
I turned towards her, waiting for an answer.
But she and her rock… Continue reading
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