“We’ll see you there in that Pine Tree State…”
Maine-ward, Ho!
Mowing the lawn is a delightful time to let the mind wander. The sun beats down on you, because I never seem to mow when it’s cool, and you just pick a mowing pattern, find a pace and…go. While weaving around sprinkler heads, garter snakes, and keeping an eye out for bind weeds and other gardening pests, it’s a great time to just…percolate. I came up with this little ditty as I gave my lawn a last little mow–a farewell from the guy who vainly tried to thicken it up, patch up the dead spots, and vainly battle a soil that would rather be turned into a clay pot than grow anything besides dust, dandelions and thistle.
This little verse popped into my head. Unfortunately, while I was mowing, I should have pulled over and written it down because at the time it was really popping. Hours later, I can only remember snippets. Sigh.
“Maine-ward, Ho!”
We’ll see you there in that Pine Tree State,
Where the sun kissed the sea and did create,
Cobble-stone streets where lobsters shake your hand
With a firm grip because they’re in a rubber band.
We’re headed for the land of mountains dense and forests of moose,
Where whoopie pies come tumbling down beneath every spruce.
Come with us where there’s but one toll road,
But it’s never used, traffic is never slowed,
We’ll see you there–the two from Colorado,
Amid the people hearty and full of bravado,
Where California is only a shadow,
We’re Maine-ward, ho!