August 12th
Clouds threatened rain when I returned.
I watered the garden at dusk anyway because it had been neglected for three days, and continued with that pleasant routine early evenings as the sun moved off.
I was still using the wounded camera holding the lens in place, hence the shadow of a finger in all the shots I wasn't able to crop.
Beastly hot and damp days. Inside it was blessedly cool with the air conditioner at 79 degrees, and sometimes just the fan was enough.
Daily, I rose before sunup and fed the birds for the pleasure of watching them. Did a little bit of art play with water color pencils.
Days later I continued playing, and wish I hadn't
Also tried a flower wrap on breeze-cloth
Impatient, I undid it only a few days later
But, when soaked there was little color left. Days melted into just being, and being without computer was a gift. Nights there was some entertaining TV from the BBC I don't get in New York.
~*~
Saturday morning I found a dead bird under the feeder, and there was a mourning dove inspecting it for food. Maybe I should have left it and walked away, but...
I brought it inside and washed it free of mites.
What a beautiful wing.
~*~
I read books about Julius Eastman (Link) with an essay by R. Nemo Hill, a book about Bill Rice (Link) whose Garden theater I attended several times in the East Village. I read the Hanuman chapter of "Bali", and perused sections of "Alchemy" by Johanne Fabricius
Finished "The Book Shop" by Penelope Fitzgerald whom I'd never heard of (Link), and she's wonderful. I listened to Cuban music and to Judy Henski's album "Big Judy" (Link), plus several more discs.
Here's a choice taste of Judy Henski
~*~
After supper I went outside to listen. August is the desperate month when crickets, cicadas and katydids must mate and die in order to provide a future for their kind.
~*~
Still blooming,
the garden is also chock full of seeds to save.
Clouds threatened rain when I returned.
I watered the garden at dusk anyway because it had been neglected for three days, and continued with that pleasant routine early evenings as the sun moved off.
I was still using the wounded camera holding the lens in place, hence the shadow of a finger in all the shots I wasn't able to crop.
Beastly hot and damp days. Inside it was blessedly cool with the air conditioner at 79 degrees, and sometimes just the fan was enough.
Daily, I rose before sunup and fed the birds for the pleasure of watching them. Did a little bit of art play with water color pencils.
Also tried a flower wrap on breeze-cloth
Impatient, I undid it only a few days later
But, when soaked there was little color left. Days melted into just being, and being without computer was a gift. Nights there was some entertaining TV from the BBC I don't get in New York.
~*~
Saturday morning I found a dead bird under the feeder, and there was a mourning dove inspecting it for food. Maybe I should have left it and walked away, but...
I brought it inside and washed it free of mites.
What a beautiful wing.
~*~
I read books about Julius Eastman (Link) with an essay by R. Nemo Hill, a book about Bill Rice (Link) whose Garden theater I attended several times in the East Village. I read the Hanuman chapter of "Bali", and perused sections of "Alchemy" by Johanne Fabricius
Finished "The Book Shop" by Penelope Fitzgerald whom I'd never heard of (Link), and she's wonderful. I listened to Cuban music and to Judy Henski's album "Big Judy" (Link), plus several more discs.
Here's a choice taste of Judy Henski
After supper I went outside to listen. August is the desperate month when crickets, cicadas and katydids must mate and die in order to provide a future for their kind.
Still blooming,
the garden is also chock full of seeds to save.
*
*
*
*
*
~*~
Tuesday the 16th--Time to leave.
So it was I left notes and food, locked up,
bid farewell to the watchman...
and boarded the 3:07 back to muggy Manhattan.
bid farewell to the watchman...
and boarded the 3:07 back to muggy Manhattan.
~*~
LINKS
Julius Eastman
https://books.google.com/books?id=EOItCwAAQBAJ&printsec=frontcover#v=onepage&q&f=false
Bill Rice
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_%22Bill%22_Rice
Penelope Fitzgerald
http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2014/11/24/late-bloom
Judy Henski
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Judy_Henske
LINKS
Julius Eastman
https://books.google.com/books?id=EOItCwAAQBAJ&printsec=frontcover#v=onepage&q&f=false
Bill Rice
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_%22Bill%22_Rice
Penelope Fitzgerald
http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2014/11/24/late-bloom
Judy Henski
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Judy_Henske
2 comments:
it is if i were there as you tell it. Thank You
loved "Offshore" by Penelope Fitzgerald
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