Saturday mornings in the spring
It's Saturday morning, a little after ten thirty. The sky is clear and blue. The sunlight is slanting from the east through my windows. A cardinal is calling to friends from a nearby tree, and the traffic on First Ave is quiet and smooth. One of our neighbors has already cut his lawn, and the smell of fresh cut grass is coming into my room.
There's always been something about Saturday mornings in the spring. They feel like no other day. It's something about the mix of clear sky, sunshine, and a comfortable air that makes it completely perfect. If there's ever a day and a time when the whole world seems to be fresh and pure, when you don't think anything bad exists, it's a Saturday morning in the spring when the sky is bright blue and it's sixty eight degrees.
It makes me think of garage sales. Everyone's done their spring cleaning and wants to get rid of all the stuff they don't want anymore. On Russell Drive, one of our neighbors across the street always had garage sales on Saturday mornings in the spring. I remember going over and looking at all the cool little things they had arranged on the tables. Once, I found a cool clock radio. It couldn't have been more than a dollar. I got a couple quarters from the change tin in my room and bought it. When I took it home and plugged it in it didn't work. The big number slots didn't light up, and no sound came from the speaker. I walked back across the street to return it, to get my money back. But our neighbor didn't want it back. He looked at me like he'd never seen me before, like I'd gotten the clock at another sale and came over to trick him, to return something that was never his. I talked to his wife but got the same look. I even talked to his son.
"My dad wouldn't sell something that was broken," he said. "You're probably the one who broke it."
So, I was stuck with a broken clock radio. Later that day I took it apart with a screwdriver, then smashed the circuits and case in the driveway with the butt of an aluminum baseball bat.
A blanket of clouds is moving in. The Weather Channel radar is tracking a storm system moving west across the state, toward Iowa City.
There's always been something about Saturday mornings in the spring. They feel like no other day. It's something about the mix of clear sky, sunshine, and a comfortable air that makes it completely perfect. If there's ever a day and a time when the whole world seems to be fresh and pure, when you don't think anything bad exists, it's a Saturday morning in the spring when the sky is bright blue and it's sixty eight degrees.
It makes me think of garage sales. Everyone's done their spring cleaning and wants to get rid of all the stuff they don't want anymore. On Russell Drive, one of our neighbors across the street always had garage sales on Saturday mornings in the spring. I remember going over and looking at all the cool little things they had arranged on the tables. Once, I found a cool clock radio. It couldn't have been more than a dollar. I got a couple quarters from the change tin in my room and bought it. When I took it home and plugged it in it didn't work. The big number slots didn't light up, and no sound came from the speaker. I walked back across the street to return it, to get my money back. But our neighbor didn't want it back. He looked at me like he'd never seen me before, like I'd gotten the clock at another sale and came over to trick him, to return something that was never his. I talked to his wife but got the same look. I even talked to his son.
"My dad wouldn't sell something that was broken," he said. "You're probably the one who broke it."
So, I was stuck with a broken clock radio. Later that day I took it apart with a screwdriver, then smashed the circuits and case in the driveway with the butt of an aluminum baseball bat.
A blanket of clouds is moving in. The Weather Channel radar is tracking a storm system moving west across the state, toward Iowa City.
Comments
Post a Comment