Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri
Katy is represented by
Greg Johnson at
WordServe Literary
Read more Katy at
LateBoomer.net
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- So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What?
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- A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose
- However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time
- After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices.
- As with everything in life, balance is key.
- Slow down, you move too fast…
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(No Title)
I've been out traipsing and have rediscovered how much I love stepping stones. You may think I'm talking about the kind in the pond at Loose Park in Kansas City, the tall manufactured cylinders small children delight in walking across the water on, but I'm not. Or maybe the ones that arise spontaneously in shallow creeks and bubbling brooks, offering all manner of barefoot creatures the chance for a natural whirlpool footbath. Those aren't my favorites, either. The ones I love are cast from kits by enterprising mothers who then bring them to life with the handprint of a baby or the pawprint of a dog. They are the ones that come pre-sentimentized with words like, "Grow Old With Me, the Best Is Yet To Be, The Last of Life, For Which the First Was Made." Or a design from the Book of Kells. They can even be flat-topped rocks dug up from my own property, and then reset into different soil, used in a new way, as a footpath for a refuge-seeking soul. I don't love these stones at first. At first, when we hollow out the places for them and pound them into the ground, they are contrived, artificial and out-of-place. At first, I won't set foot upon them. But later, seasons later, the most endearing greenery has sprung up around them! Not crabgrass, with its insidious and self-promoting behavior, and certainly not clover, which is pretty in a single unit but obnoxious in the way it overtakes the lawn. No, this is a fragile growth which has as its only observable purpose surrounding, comforting and connecting earth's stepping stones. It appears nowhere else in the landscape, and indeed, wouldn't seem right in another place. It is a plant which has found its reason for living. Do you know the kind of greenery I mean? The kind that speaks of age, and permanence and maybe even of wisdom? Of love and devotion and the passing of years with the people you care for? Then you know why I love the stepping stone path in my own front yard.
Posted by Katy on 03/14/02 at 03:43 PM
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