I really couldn't tell time for... well ... like a really long time.
So, to marked the passing of what I couldn't read, I did like plants do or what my cat
does now -- by time, by light, by sound, by wind and, in my case, by the leaves on the trees in Sheriff Park
As the trees got greener and the smells in the air weren't of radiators and cold, wet wool, I knew, just knew there would be a knock on the door and our version of Santa Claus, the United States Postal Delivery Man would appear with the holy grail of wonderfulness - a Sears & Roebuck box.
And without fail, at the very last possible second of the very last possible day that demanded I wear a sweater and my sturdy, once-a-year oxfords from Kaplan's on Clinton Street
, that knock would come.
Behold. Summer and my Sneakers had arrived.
Florence's sneakers walk the talk
Home and the love between Jupiter and Rags (r.i.p)