With Child

People everywhere are having babies, and it’s about time somebody said something. First, a question: do people say “with child” anymore? I kind of like it – it lends a certain gravitas to the proceedings. Moreso than, say, “preggers.” Try it: She’s with child. Now try: She’s preggers.

Totally different.

Second, a poem of sorts – something I wrote several years ago, when we got together with some friends, and the ladies started comparing bellies.

* * * * *

small wonder

a friend who is pregnant dreams a
golden sunshine painted on her belly.
is that so strange? i watch her husband
circle – he is drawn to her, not close but
never far. she is one of three with child
radiant and exhausted, and
we men talk as though we never
wish to feel the kick of tiny feet
a somersault or hiccups; like we
do not wonder at our wives resilience.
they sip their drinks and hold their sides,
their backs; their bellies impossibly round
as if inside they bore the world
like Atlas, on their hips – small wonder
we can’t pull away from such a cosmic thing.

j. thorp
20 feb 02

* * * * *

Congrats to new moms, old moms, experienced moms, professional moms, surprise moms, renewed moms, moms-to-be, and moms-thrice-over. You’re amazing.

 

High Country Fishing

So I thought I’d give words a rest and share a few photos from our mountain excursion with our good friend Cowboy Bob, while we’re on the topic.

That’s Jinglebob himself, and a shaggy varmint we’ll call The Kid. I hadn’t realize Bob hadn’t spent much time in this country; his head was turning every which way, trying to take everything in, and he kept shouting “Oohs” and “Aahs” and various expletives, whic was nerve-wracking, since he was driving, too …


Every view a postcard, but the camera won’t do them justice.


The only elk we saw in all of Colorado was this beautiful bull in Estes State Park, comfortably chewing his cud and enjoying his protected status. My dad, uncle, cousin, and a family friend had were hunting elk with black powder rifles south of here – but Bob, the Kid, and I were seeking trout.

We tried fly-fishing and casting spinners and spoons in the Colorado River for a couple of days, to no avail. On the way to the river one day we looked down into the valley to see this train snaking through a stone archway!

On the last day of fishing, we found it: a quiet mountain lake stocked with cutbows – a rainbow/cutthroat cross, I’m guessing. We fished with with worms, spinners, and a jar of salmon eggs a couple of other fishermen left for us. The Kid caught the biggest (and the smallest – poor little thing bit off more than he could chew), and the group caught 13 in all. Pan-fried with salt and lemon-pepper, they were delicious!

I’ll try to post a group shot, but I need to check with our other intrepid fisherman (and his folks) to be sure it’s alright.