Glove Story

Nothing starts summer for me like a game of backgammon while I wait for the sun to warm the balcony on my west side, which will happen in an hour (give or take a couple of weeks).

First ballgame tomorrow. Glove Story, is the name of the team. A collection of sons, fathers, young women, friends, spouses, and remnants of ballteams past. Looks like I'm the oldest on the squad, having already claimed infield work only, since I can no longer see home plate from deep right field.

And I'm looking forward to my rendezvous at a literary salon in Saskatoon with Brenda Schmidt, whose Cantos from Wolverine Creek has lately made it all the way to my inner chamber at bedtime. (It's a book of poems that will rock you in your tracks.)

But first, the balcony (unless I can get hold of Lucy to go throw some frisbee). I'll have to peel back the perimeter of my rock dove defenses.