Former greenskeeper, about to become.....

As I emerged from the west and that hole in the ground, I noticed that the green had already taken hold of the southeast, even in my short absence. Like today when the first pitch of the Braves' game was called a strike, that was it; a line had been crossed and the season had begun just as sure as the earth tilts on the axis. The game went in favor of the team with the tomahawks and everything seems to be sliding back into greased grooves. Hopefully the Braves one season on the downs will mirror my own lameness of last summer and we will rise to deserved heights together in 2007.
Meanwhile, I find a happy Justice in the stark blooms that radiate through all the hours and elements. Tuesday will be a day to drive with the top down and escape the seductive, tender shackles of the in-of-doors with its cable television and computers and easel with painting half finished and refrigerator and hollow book with secret compartment and so on. Let's see what I can prove.