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.