Green Claustrophobia

When I was a kid, my friend's mom used to put on a 33 and sing show tunes at the top of her lungs while she cooked. I mean impressively At. The. Top. Of. Her. Lungs. She really put her heart into it, not caring about anything but the song. That is how I remember "Don't Fence Me In."

Things have been greening up around here (and we have the tree pollen count to match.) All the trees I could pretend were propping up the celestial dome over the long naked winter are filling out. Fencing me in, blotting out my sky.

It makes me feel edgy. At a time when most people are reveling in the promise of summer, the lush greenness of it all -- I'm missing the sky. You can take the girl off the plains, but you can't take the plains out of the girl. I always feel better when I look up, whether it's at the stars or at thunderclouds or at sheer incredible blue.

I'll adjust to the green. The closed in feeling will pass, but sometimes I long to spin around and see the uncluttered horizon in every direction.

So to counter my grouchiness at the approaching summer, here's something from it's good side:

A veritable rainbow of flipflops.