this summer

Now that it is cold and the rain strips the last memory of an overlong summer from the piscean brain, I find this: the path through my studio garden. Very similar to the fish's progress, it curves its way. In a winter garden there are no obvious luxuries, but here as in my brain there are endless moments of delicate details and colors rippling through their possiblities with the changing light. I think I'll put this one in my pocket and keep it as the grey light fills the volumes of NYC.