7 am is still dark. Almost 8 and the light is a blued grey. The summer is being pummeled into the streets by rain, which is straining to bring autumn into the peculiar state of this late October. The ink brush painting above is my garden upstate. The one I walk through on the way to my studio. It isn't an exact representation. The mimosa tree (or tartuffala tree as I call it) on the left is actually at least 20 feet tall--and the hummingbirds did hover there. The buddeleia bush with its attendent monarch-huge in the forground-is the singular stand-in for the many (pink-violet, white and coming next year: deep purple).
When I'd wander out there I would call for my cat, Ming, who would come bounding, dog-like to my side, and lift up his face and one paw to greet me.
So the rain delivers its summer memories as it dashes them to the asphalt.
