cooped up most of the day. it rained. now the mercury is dropping. i went with a flashlight into my cactus garden to check for frost casualties from the last few nights. things are looking surprisingly good. the aloe striata looks as though it's standing on tiptoe though. like it's waist deep in icy water and holding its shoulders up around its ears.
my skin is so very dry. i blame the cold weather and my nightly (exceedingly hot) baths. every time i bend a little too far forward my skin feels like it's going to split down the middle. most unpleasant.
most of the bulbs are sleeping in the icebox. the 'thalia' narcissus are in a lidded terracotta pot outdoors clocking their cold hours. deep inside the bulbs flowers are forming already. if i split one in a few weeks there'd be a fetal daffodil. spindly and white like indian pipe parasites. a few paperwhites have sent up leaves. they don't need cold to flower. most people throw away the bulbs and start over each year. i can't do it. i always feel bad. tuck them in a random pot instead. usually after a year of rest they begin to bloom normally again. i almost rescued an amaryllis from the store the other day. sister pointed it out to me. it had opened the box with its stalk. looking for light. commiseration.
i have a box of winter candles now. my happiness insurance. it may seem silly. but i grew up with a wood stove or fireplace in nearly every house i lived in. fire in winter is sort of essential to my contentment even if it's only on a small scale. unfortunately it will take more than a wee flame to mend this year. fingers crossed for the next. toes too.
[january may find me in saint petersburg.] <--- that is me speaking in hushed tones so as not to jinx things. it's almost too lovely to mention.
wellidy. these snowberry twigs will not weave themselves. and so.
adieu.
tomorrow i catch the train to more southerly climes. last week when i was there i watched a kite hover over the pasture in front of the assistencia. it's a floodplain. cattle are still grazed there though at this time of year the pasture is empty. right about sunset i stood by the fence and watched the kite climb into the sky. it hovered and dove many times. continually missed its mark. finally it managed to pin something to the earth. then it struggled into the air and flew to the top of a large oak to eat its prey.
had peculiar dreams last night. they were very vivid. i was by turns angry and crushed. i rolled around until tangled in the duvet. bashed my arm on a protruding wall plug.
have most of a sock knit. i'll knit the other on the train while i listen to podcasts and watch the other passengers. that's really the great appeal of trains for me. you sometimes encounter very interesting characters. other times you spend the trip avoiding the bathroom and the doleful mouth-breathing gawps of drunken degenerates. i suppose even those are interesting in their way.
wellidy. i go.
tonight as i walked home a young fellow on a bicycle came zipping around the corner. i had stopped there to wait for the signal to change so i could cross the street. he shouted something unintelligible. sounded like "heeeeeey shandeeeee." and then nodded genteelly at me and said "please excuse me." it happened so very quickly. then a bumblebee flew out of the dark and deviled me for a moment. flew around my face again and again. flew to the sprig of red kangaroo paw i had gripped in my hand. then disappeared into darkness again.
wellidy. to sleep.
wonderful mechanical animals arrived in the mail yesterday. cutting them out and assembling them amuses me no end. there is a hare and a goat and a luverly red squirrel (not unlike the one i saw the other day) sitting on the edge of the desk next to a spray of pink jasmine. the tiny jam jar houses a small sprig of white hydrangea and rose geranium and black coleus. i have been sitting here in the evenings under the circle of light. i've lost count of how many mugs of mulled cider have passed these lips. i have no regrets.
spoke to father. he said half of the giant double-trunked oak was lost in the storm. the upside is he'll have firewood to heat his little cabin next winter. the downside is that when summer comes there will be less shade to cool the cabin. as my father would undoubtedly say that's life in the far west.
the river has subsided some. there's a new sandbar near the bay log. mallards were splashing there all day. twitching their bottoms. bills to the riverbed. a small child in slicker and wellingtons pointed at them excitedly. there's a thatch of willow and nettle and leaves high up the trunks of the river-hemming trees. looks like the dreys of woodrats.
in the dark now i can see the rim of the lamppost's shade. water is arranged in drops along the edge. the lamp itself is obscured in shadows but the beads of water are illuminated. an eerily suspended train of pearls.
wellidy. i must have some supper. adieu.
i saw the most beautiful red tree squirrel today. it was hopping along just in front of the ivy-covered wall near the cafe. it had a very decomposed black walnut in its mouth. i stopped to watch it and realized several other people had also stopped. so pretty!
i had a very strange day. i did a lot of driving. one of the little towns i drove through really reminded me of driving through coastal parts of maine. an austere white steeple surrounded by blazing maples. little cafes. littler houses with smoke rising from the chimneys. people strolling about in greatcoats and watch caps. then i had a sort of wrestling match with a very obstinate parking permit dispenser. it won. but i did swear at it rather a lot before the end. so. i derived some comfort there.
finished the hearing trumpet. began who was changed and who was dead. i adore barbara comyns.
i think i was chatted up today by the guy i always see at the cafe. sometimes i am so completely oblivious to these things. i thought about it afterward but i still can't decide if he was coming on to me or trying very hard to sell me something. perhaps i'm making a distinction where one doesn't exist. hmm.
tomorrow i must rise before the sun and try to accomplish then what i could not accomplish this morning. fingers crossed.
adieu.
found a few good books downtown today. i found them at the other bookshop. i don't usually frequent that one because it's mostly new books. but i popped in there today because i was wandering around town and looking for trouble without success. book browsing was my second choice. picked up another barbara comyns. yays! also herta muller's* the land of green plums and an out-of-print levertov. huzzah!
found that my sage seedlings have been destroyed by feline night raid. i'll have the last laugh though when i bivouac at the foot of the bed and launch a counterattack one night. they'll never suspect a thing. fortunately they're also entirely illiterate so i can reveal my plans here without blowing my cover. mcmullen: 1 felines: 0.
my duvet and assorted bedclothes are newly laundered. i have a stack of new reading material. the only thing that would make this evening better would be something snackulent. a dish of marcona almonds or a hazelnut macaron and a cup of tea would do the trick.
wellidy. as i can think of nothing else worth boring you with i will say good night. and so.
*please forgive the lack of diacritical mark. i am too lazy to search up an umlaut. you'll live.
potted up bulbs this afternoon. have to bear spring in mind when autumn comes on. the bulbs will sleep through a chill and then wake up when the weather turns warm and damp. the little mossy clay pots are full of 'thalia' narcissus and iris danfordiae. hyacinths are in the icebox. bulbs of iris reticulata and 'firefly' crocus will join those soon. white freesia and paperwhites are in brown paper sacking waiting for november to roll around. i unearthed a copper specimen stake in the heap of compost. father gifted me with a book on the genus paeonia. i helped my wee mama pick out pots of lavender. sister made me waffles with jam and we talked about antique lilies.
when i was small i had very severe earaches. i used to wake up crying because it felt like i was being stabbed in the ear with an icepick. my gran would lift me up and carry me to her rocking chair and rock me in the dark. she was quite religious. pentecostal. she'd speak in tongues and rock me until i was mesmerized. then i'd sleep. similarly when i had a loose tooth that needed pulling she'd tie a thread to it and bop me on top of the head whilst she yarded my tooth from its mooring. her medicine was of the distractionary sort. is distractionary a word? no matter. it is now. i say it is. i was thinking of her medicine tonight. i don't have her charismatic beliefs nor her trance-inducing glossolalia. but i think i've inherited her well of calm. if it was a reservoir that could be moved by transpiration and storm i'd be sending anvil clouds to one who needs them. alas. doesn't work that way.
wellidy. tomorrow the train takes me back to the land of banana slugs.
quinces. golden anthers. the riparian flora of brazil. tootsie rolls. landfill. feral catlings. parking ticket. yoyo dogs. waffles and coffee. acorns. oak gall. folk harp. chiffarobe. long hot bath. phone calls. employment? cobra lily. crochet lace. exhaustion.
wellidy.
went for a drive on the backroads with v---. picked a posy of aster and snowberry and yarrow. so pretty. along the road at the end of a huge lemon gum arcade there was a giant metal statue of a skelington holding an automatic weapon. a real weapon. whoever created the skelington was a talented welder. i was impressed.
i've found a new cafe to haunt. this one is much better than the other. it isn't as beautiful and doesn't have a garden but it does have a very friendly owner. that counts for a lot. i've been hanging out for well over an hour and haven't received a dirty look. in fact when i asked if the cafe had wifi the owner said "yes! have a seat. stay as long as you like. look at all the porn you want!" to which i replied "great! you'll find me over there then!" and gestured at a nearby sofa. then we both chuckled. the cafe i usually frequent recently taped up all of their outlets to discourage patrons from hanging around and internetting for hours. i spent a lot of time there doing just that. but also spending money on coffee. i guess they don't need the cash. no skin off my nose.
across the street yellow leaves are falling in drifts from the black walnut tree every time the wind blows. it's really lovely. the sky is full of dark clouds. the wind is cold. i love this weather. it makes me wish i had a cozy garret to return home to. maybe one that looked like this:
but with a potbellied stove surrounded by a brass fender. or maybe a fireplace with andirons in the shape of fanciful and frightening animals. yes please.
okee dokee. i go.
