Perfection in an Imperfect World

Perfection in an Imperfect World




The day was hot and we were listless.

Little Jessica wore her yellow hockey

helmet and sat buckled into the kids

seat on my bike. Proudly she

clutched her plastic Safeway bag

containing her equipment.



She said that we were going on a secret

mission and packed insect spray,

the rub on kind, a pair of scissors (for

taking plant cuttings) and a bottle of

Kool-Aid with a picture of a Disney

Character on it (Sleeping Beauty).



We forged across country taking a dusty

dirt bike trail leading us on a direct path

To the mystical spruce forest of her vivid

Imagination. I maneuvered around ruts

Formed by bikes that plied this route

On muddier days gone by.



There was no sign of activity at the beaver

Pond, likely it was too hot a day. Walking

by another beaver pond, mornings on my

way to work, a long V trail formed

behind the head of a partially submerged

beaver. It would then arch its back and

loudly smack its tail to worn the others of

my ominous presence.



At Christmas we returned to the beaver pond

To find the perfect Christmas tree, which was

Usually two less than perfect trees wired together

Around the trunk giving the illusion of natural

Symmetry. I drilled holes and filled in the gaps

With transplanted branches.



A fox crossed our path and quickly disappeared

as it had other things on its mind. At the golf

course I once watched as a fox efficiently

And systematically rounded up a family of ducklings,

like a collie would with a herd of Holsteins, and ate

them one by one, oblivious to the squawks of the

frantic mother duck and my 3 iron.



Yet…



In a meadow just past the pond my daughter set about

Snipping perfect specimens of wild flowers.