Wild Greens

Our April issue is all about how making mistakes can be, well, fun! *Shrug* — “Oops-a-Daisy!”

We open with Kathryn Pauline’s watercolors, “camp coffee,” which show how the first step of making beautiful paintings is to try. Pat Severin’s poem, “I've Fallen & I Can't Get Up” pokes fun at the lie we tell ourselves: we’ll never get old! Melissa Lomax’s digital drawing “Oops-a-Doozy” portrays a classic morning mistake.

In Carol Barrett’s poem, “Time Warp with Trains,” a parent reflects on the passing of time. “My Best Friends,” a linocut print by Grace Clark, considers another beloved family member: her cat! Lynne Marie Rosenberg’s drawing in graphite “One Wrong Move” depicts the burden of holding on to perfectionism.

In “What Am I Bid?” a humorous piece of short fiction by Jo Gatenby, a couple on a budget accidentally overbids at an auction. Melissa Lomax’s watercolor, graphite, and ink “Splotch Doggy” turns an oops into a work of art.

To close the issue, Maggie Topel’s digital logo, “Oops-a-Daisy” depicts the most painful oops of all— dropping and breaking your phone. Note the daisies’ roots growing out of the broken phone in her logo: sometimes mistakes bring new chapters.

As I publish this, I hope I spelled everyone’s name right. And if I made a mistake, well, we’re all out here doing our best. I hope I remembered to cross all of my i’s and dot my t’s. Or is it the other way around? Oops-a-Daisy!

-Rebecca

I've Fallen & I Can't Get Up

Time Warp with Trains

What Am I Bid?

by Jo Gatenby

Some days, it feels like the universe is just waiting for you to make a mistake.

Bill and I had just moved into our first apartment, and after days of scouring thrift stores and online listings, we’d decided to try an auction. Our goal was to score some cheap furniture—maybe a coffee table, an old bookshelf. Or, if we were really lucky, a dining room set.

Our budget was tight—we needed to pay rent and still afford food this month.

Walking into the cavernous auction hall, I felt a bit like a tourist in a foreign land. It was larger than I’d expected, dimly lit, filled with rows of antique furniture, vintage rugs, and stacks of oddities. The air hummed with whispered conversations and the echo of footsteps on the cold concrete floor.

After picking up our numbered paddle, we browsed with everyone else, making note of lot numbers for items we thought we could afford.

At some unseen signal, everyone moved toward the chairs, and Bill and I followed the crowd to our seats. The auctioneer, a man in a well-worn suit, stood waiting at the podium.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he boomed, “we’re going to begin with a truly special item. A one-of-a-kind piece, rare and magnificent, from the estate of a renowned European art collector. Let’s start the bidding at $5,000. What am I bid?”

Bill and I exchanged a glance.

Five thousand for that? My eyes darted to the platform, and I was immediately struck by the glint of gold—an ornate mirror, framed in intricate carvings. It would look out of place in our tiny apartment, but it was undeniably impressive.

“I have five thousand. Do I hear six?”

“Seventy-five hundred,” an older woman in the front row called out, raising her paddle.

“Ten thousand.”

The crowd murmured as someone in the back raised her bid. She glanced over her shoulder in annoyance, then tapped her paddle in the air. “Twelve…”

Bill leaned forward, clearly impressed by the climbing price. “Crazy,” he muttered under his breath. “I wonder who would spend that kind of money on something like that.”

“I don’t know,” I whispered back, still trying to wrap my head around the numbers. “It’s just a mirror…”

“Fifteen!” The answer shot back before she’d lowered her hand.

I couldn’t believe it. “Who’s bidding?” 

Bill jerked his head at a distinguished-looking man sitting a short distance away. “That guy. Maybe he’s a collector, too.” He shook his head. “Who needs a mirror this badly?”

I strained to see over the people between us. With his grey hair, gold-rimmed glasses, and tailored suit, he stood out among this casual jeans-and-tees crowd.

But Bill was losing interest in the bidding war. His eyes swept past the stage, scanning the other items being lined up to go onto the platform. He sat up straighter. “Hey look,” he pointed toward a table and chairs being stacked there. “That’s just the kind of thing we’re looking for.”

“Eighteen thousand in the back.”

The distinguished gentleman turned to glare at us. I shrank back, wondering what we’d done wrong, a flush of embarrassment creeping up my neck.

Then I saw the paddle, clutched in Bill’s pointing hand, and panic jolted through me. My pulse started pounding, dread twisting in my gut. Please don’t let this be happening!

“Do I hear nineteen?”

For a moment I couldn’t breathe, then I hissed, “You just bid on it!”

“I did not!” He stared at me, horrified.

“Yes, you did—put that thing down!”

We stared at each other, Bill’s eyes mirroring my alarm. 

This is terrible. We don’t have that kind of money. We barely scraped together the $300 we planned to spend tonight.

“Going once…”

If we can’t make the rent, we’ll be kicked out. I could already see the disappointment in my parents’ eyes if we asked to move in with them… feel the shame of admitting we’d lost our first apartment over a mirror…

“Going twice…”

Bill held the paddle on his lap. I reached over, and we clasped hands so tightly, our knuckles turned white.

“Nineteen thousand on the left…”

We exhaled, deflating in relieved unison. The auctioneer moved on as we sat frozen, afraid to twitch, while the two remaining combatants fought it out.

“Twenty-five thousand…Sold!”

Polite applause rippled through the room. We didn’t even look to see who won as we sagged in our seats. 

“Well, that was close. Think we can still get that dining room set without buying anything crazy?” I whispered, my laugh as shaky as my hands.

Bill patted the paddle, pressed firmly against his leg, and raised an eyebrow. “If not, you can explain it to the landlord.”

Some days, the universe is just waiting for you to make a mistake. 

And other days, it lets you walk away with a warning.