We didn’t get snow except for mixed with rain and not enough of that. Some of the magnolias have already browned. I think about the farmers and the fruit trees; have they been patient enough to still be able to fruit, with this return to winter after the long, false spring?
As the days get shorter, I am waking in the dark, and the light rises while I do my morning practice.
I went out back to make preparations for the storm. This included constructing protected space around the basement windows. I’d hesitated for years to give away the sheet plexiglass I’d used in a single artist show in the late 1990s. Every time I did a cleaning, I’d hold on to the plexiglass. Now I know why.
There was a little bit of kale and a few spring onions. They were sweet from having been frozen.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
Last week, when my friend Suzanne and I were walking out of the Conservatory of Flowers in Golden Gate Park to catch the bus back downtown, we came across an island of dahlias in the middle of the parking lot. We were filled with excitement and joy at the outrageous effulgence. In the past, I’ve never had any particular feelings one way or the other about dahlias, though I knew that gardeners can get completely obsessed with them. This exuberant showing gave me a flash of insight as to why dahlias can inflame passion and dedication. It was a sweet reminder always to be open to new wonder, even from things we have previously experienced and thought we knew.
