Saturday, November 04, 2017

Yesterday Friday, Today Saturday

The garden gate was rebuilt. Like, a month ago. And even though it was desperately needed, it was in such a sorry state, I barely let it register that it was done, and pretty, and easy to open and close. I feel strange that I was indifferent. I feel strange that I still have only a foggy recollection of any of it, though I bought the lumber, the paint. It's sturdy, now. And white.

As I was preparing photographs for this post, I remembered that a pretty Queen Ann house in Oregon was supposed to go on the market this week. I met the owner, at random... she wants to move to the Big Island. Honoka'a. Kohala, maybe. Life is strange. Then, almost suddenly, I found myself engrossed in real-estate porn... glossy photos, tax records, square footage, built-in storage, all so alluring, affordable, even. I was in another state. I felt like a housing adulteress, my cheeks flushed, and I closed the browser.

Halloween is packed, and the house looks a bit bereft. It's like a holiday vacuum in here. Maybe this time, and these empty spaces are like an aperitif, something to cleanse the palette before we dive into our next fête.

I was going to confess about how neglected the garden beds are, about wanting to rebuild the soil, start over, and to remind myself that I have intended to plant bulbs and sweet peas for eight years... but, then I felt too tired to write about all of that, which doesn't bode well for the effort required to do more than write about gardening.

November Sky, day 3. I seem to have begun a daily sky picture, which I am keeping at Instagram. Others are playing at Gnomevember, and there was Inktober, last month. Last month. So soon, the ink's barely dry.



What is this tree with the odd mini-leaves that grow around the stems, between the larger leaves?

Here is our autumn, at the lagoon. It is dry, faded, going to seed. It may seem a forlorn thing to note the dwindling flowers, the falling leaves, but I like them. I like transition, the hopefulness of seeds, the muted shades under gray skies. There is a calm, restful appeal to this time of year.




Today's November Sky, a blue almost improbable. I stepped out this morning, looked up into the Torrey Pines, and had to reacquaint my senses with this brightness. So blue, it felt foreign, startling, and then I imagined that if we were in an upside down place, we could fall into the sky and swim.

Ha! A Gnomevember. And Chango and Cairo, Caturday.


With Infinity More Monkeys, a picture a day.

6 comments:

  1. What is the gorgeous flower above the Torrey Pines picture?

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    1. My search found: Flowering Maple... https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abutilon
      Someone left three blossoms on a memorial bench. It really is a vivid, striking flower.
      It’s not growing on the trail, so it may be a special gift left for the person the bench honors.

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  2. Oh, how I love that word Caturday! With roomie and I both gone during the day, the felines have been confined to the back of the house and I can feel their antsyness for Caturday.

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    1. Caturday is a very good word. And cats are very good company.

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  3. I'm so sorry about your grandmother. She certainly knew how much she was loved and that's about the best thing to have at the end of a long life. Her family around her and now missing her - it's the right time to close her circle of life but never forget her love and life. Those we love live on in our memories. I hope Mister Foo has reappeared - sending you love and peace and acceptance of fate.

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    1. Thank you. These are good words, and I really appreciate you reaching out to me... very much.

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