Garden of Light

RAIN

The other night I went to see Twelfth Night in the park. At the end of the (wonderful, very funny) play, the rain came down, glittering in the lights against the dark circle of over head trees as the cast sang a song with a rainy refrain.
This weekend I visited my garden. The bounty is thus:

why I live in NYC

Tonight I go to the Metropolitan Museum with a friend. We see Francis Bacon, we see Michelangelo's first painting, and we see Vermeer and Rembrandt. Then we go to the American Wing and look at old American rooms with old furniture. After that we sit in the cafe and drink wine, nibble on various museum food and watch the light descend through the multi-paned, glass, canted ceiling; various sculptures posed below. We go out into the still-light evening and take a bus across town and I take the subway downtown. In between all of this we talk and talk.
Could I kiss the sidewalk and tell the city how much I love it?
Meanwhile over Central Park--the light dazzles the edges of darkening trees as the streelights come on--I know this because I've walked through as it happens--not tonight, but still I'm aware of it even as I rush underground sitting close to strangers, but not quite (strangers-they live here, too).

when your garden times itself to your eyes

I thought I would miss the irises and the wisteria, the indigo's quick, deep & statuesque bloom, and the orange-fire burn of the poppies. But all of these and more waited for me to come back and pour my eyes all over them. The foaming, ferning green, the white water of huge goats beard, and the endless blue-violet of irises, both ordinary and butterfly....an exuberant, lovely, over the top and over my head frenzy...

I've been reading Ballard

Pink and Blackboard

Decadent Dalliance

Pancakes & the last two Dr Who episodes (before noon)
Wine and Yojimbo
Working half the day on the newest project that involves pink, gold, pearlescant paint & a blackboard surfaced table
Deciding and succeeding in not worrying about the economy's tidal influx into one's own little sand castle (even small time islands count here)
Reading China Mieville's The City and the City in between, and instead of everything else, right to the finish
Inventing sentences in Chinese as I walk the streets