Winter storm PAX is looming in the distance and threatening to disrupt life across the southeastern United States.  My fingers stall on my keyboard because I don’t have anything to say about weather; I’m not a weather puppet.  I don’t understand why every weather percolation needs a name, but it’s probably part of some scheme to make sure FEMA funds are distributed correctly if anyone breaks a nail driving over icy roads.  It’s oddly ironic that some brilliant puppet named the storm the Latin word for PEACE.  By design, I guess, since those who know the meaning of the word will be searching for other disgruntled word lovers in the blogosphere and those who don’t will be searching for the meaning.  When millions of men, moms, and marchers put PAX into search engines, this causes “Winter Storm PAX” to “trend” and creates hysteria.  Hysteria causes fear and fear makes men, moms, and marchers run out to buy milk, bread, and shovels and the GDP rises like a balloon.

The You Ess of Eeeey (said like Fonzie) will be in the lock down of economic recovery by noon!

Meanwhile, back in Lisbon Falls, Maine, I’m looking at a list of the town gardens, formerly the work of The Green Thumb Gang.  For a small town with a sputtering economy, we have almost 50 garden spots, many maintained by men, moms, and marchers who toil loving hours once the snow melts.  We had a meeting on Monday night and it was good to meet some of these other gardeners.  The grand dame of the Green Thumb Gang, my friend Faye, was there and she reminded us of the history behind the gardens.  With all this weather hysteria, it’s easy to forget that some of our town gardens were created to honor the memory of men and women no longer with us, like “The Thomas Field Memorial Garden.”  Tommy died at the Battle of Mogadishu, or Black Hawk Down.

Then there’s “The Wheel Garden.”  Faye considered renaming this spot “The Magnet Garden” because Happy Motorists keep driving into it.  The most recent drive-by bashed apart two of the irons wheels (from the old Worumbo Mill).

One of my father’s friends, Noyes Lawrence, works on the Route 9 Strip Garden.  It’s a dangerous little island at the base of Route 9 and we’re renaming it “The Old Man Garden.”  Old Noyes is a good old sport.

A sport of another sort, Reggie and I were talking about some of my Lady Alone Traveler trips and how a town’s “walkability” made it a better destination.  Then Reggie asked me if I’d ever thought of starting a volksmarching club in town.  I hadn’t thought of such a thing, but while I was sitting at the garden meeting, studying the list and thinking about the history of each garden, the wheels in my brain started turning.  I could imagine some volksmarching from garden to garden.  How difficult could it be?  It would make a good story, too.  With all of this in mind, I’ve volunteered to help on the garden map project.

The march is on.