Spring Full Flower Moon
Dicentra in deep pink, iris in deep purple, tulips in yellow, red, orange and purple, daffodils in many combinations of yellow and white, plus, amazing for this time of year, lilacs, fill out the full flower moon here. The moon’s light, silvered and slight, gives no presence for the flowers so they close up, invite no visitors. When I walk in the garden at night, under the flower moon, its namesakes here on earth sleep, perhaps dreaming of bright days, bees and warm breezes.
Emma has recovered almost to her old self, and I do mean her old self, not even her mature self. Her old self is wobbly, a bit eccentric in motion and attention, but she enjoys the sun, a small dinner and a warm spot on the couch. So do I. Life is a conspiracy against nature, wonderful and delightful while it dances and spins, mocking the tendency of all things toward chaos. That it exists at all is a miracle.
A good day, productive and educational. All except for that sting on the posterior. A bit of humility administered by an aging worker bee.
Spring Waxing Flower Moon
As the moon makes its circuit from its crescent form in the west to its fullness in the east, it passes over the skylight in our living room, at about half full. It was there tonight, shining and visible to me as I sat in my chair.
To get my sunglasses back I had to park in University parking, then wend my way through skyways and the labyrinth that is the University of Minnesota’s medical complex. In several buildings there is the school of dentistry, the medical school, a hospital, a heart hospital and a children’s hospital plus numerous organizations that have some relationship to the world of medicine.
There were kids with backpacks leaning against stoplights, chatting in small groups, a girl sitting cross-legged on a high wall reading a novel, signs: Are you bipolar? Pediatric Grand Rounds. University Brain Tumor Center. What a time, those university years. Hormones on high, ambition oozing, a heady mix of freedom and new ideas all combine to create the combustible reality that is and has been college for several decades, perhaps even centuries.
A grand time and one I wouldn’t revisit. Getting older has much to commend it and among its sweeter pleasures is a certain calmness, a centeredness impossible, at least for me, to obtain when I was in college.
Kate came back from work tonight with sad news. Her colleague Dick Mestrich, who has been battling multiple myeloma for 2 years plus, has begun to die. He’s Kate’s age and had just begun retirement when he got sick.
Spring Waxing Flower Moon
The crescent flower moon slung itself just beneath the tree to the west, over Round Lake. A thin cloud passed across it, perhaps a cloud like the one Muhammad rode through on his way to Jerusalem and the Holy Mount. These crescent moons have South Carolina and the Arab world in their wake, calling to mind on the one hand a new meaning to hiking the Appalachian trail and on the other lakes and rivers of sand, desert nights with stars so numerous no Caliph could count them all and tents raised near a palm filled caravan serai.
Kate and I watched Cry, the Beloved Country, only about 15 years after it made it to the screen. I’ve never read this book though it’s one I’ve had on my list a long time. Richard Harris and James Earl Jones are titans as far as I’m concerned, able to bring gravitas, authenticity and depth to movies in which they appear. In one of the more memorable scenes in the movies, James Earl Jones and Richard Harris, the father of a murderer and the father of the victim, unknown to each other, yet coming from home ground close to each other, speak about the murder. If you can watch this scene unmoved, you’ve lost touch with something important. Four stars.
On a less elevated note I’ve begun watching Spartacus: Blood and Sand. It’s on the instant play feature Netflix has available through the wii. It’s compelling tv, not as good as Cry, the Beloved Country but as a sand and sandal adventure yarn, it’s pretty damn good.
Beltane Waxing Flower Moon
After another night of losing sheepshead, it finally came to me. These guys have been playing a lot longer than me. Bill since childhood. Roy and Dick since high school and Ed since entering the Jesuits. Now I view them as my mentors. That way I can lose and learn, instead of just lose.
The flower moon is near full and so beautiful. It overlooks all our seeds, our bees, our orchard. The back deck may transform into a moon viewing platform since it has a nice view to the south and east where the full moons tend to linger.
Paula Westmoreland came out today and we finalized plans for the garden transformation, the vegetable garden. All the work will be done while I’m still in Panama City. I’m excited to have more beds in which to plant vegetables and to have the vegetable garden have a more aesthetic feel.