An Alien Education

Tues Am Pleasant Valley

Temperatures are just above freezing, but one of the benefits of walking the west side of the river is a double sun. The first sun has risen over Maudslay Park and shines with April morning strength. The other sun is concentrated in the river, reflecting heat with full tide height. The effect is quite warming and natural despite the extraterrestrial number.

I notice that the alder trees by the riverside have hung out their catkins like spring clothing, little sheer cotton things that offer only an embarrassment of riches yet to come. Across the street, the maples are bursting into red ballroom buds instead. Further down the road, by a clump of snow drops, some renegade daffodils have flowered into their tough yellow stuff.

On the way back, I see some children have gathered at a corner waiting for the school bus to bring them away from all this and on to their education in reading, writing, arithmetic, and the sciences. Most will get their twenty years of schooling and then go work the day shift. Like me. They’ll learn the face of humankind quite well, but this face of god with the little gee, well, not so much.

I can play with everything I see this morning because that’s the face I see in spring. Even the river has broken out in a gap-toothed smile. Beyond the necessities for life and family, there’s only this. It’s why we live and why we bring our children up to live. It can’t be taught though. We can only hope for an acclimation of sorts. Walk your children well.