The best time to plant a tree is ten years ago.
The second-best time is now. — Confucius
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writer. screenwriter. learning person. loves being human.
Ten years ago, I might not have trusted this poem:
Fiftieth birthday
from now on,
it’s all clear profit,
every sky.
Issa
Seems so today., especially as these snow-washed blue again Flagstaff skies look like huge profit. Hmm…Confucius reminds me, also, of dropping by the house of a friend once upon a time to see what was new in her typewriter that day and finding her in the backyard planting potatoes.
“But Margie,” I said. “I thought you were going back east for the summer, what are you doing planting potatoes?”
She didn’t even look up from the dirt and spuds to give me one of her how-can-you-be-so-clueless-again looks. “Oh Jeano, you don’t NOT plant potatoes just because you aren’t going to be around to harvest them.”
I was skeptical then, but then I also didn’t understand how those pieces of paper one by one through her typewriter were going to become books one day. (When I bump into her novels at the library, I’m less skeptical…)