October 27, 2007

Moon perfect, besieged by flying clouds. I don’t know how it can be so turbulent up there and so calm down here.

I planted winter aconite, daffodil, narcissus. I gave the bulbs that I couldn’t find room for to Jack and Leland. I gave my Ford to my student, Roland Crandall, who believes he can resurrect it. Left North Asheville only to go to dress rehearsal for Carmina Burana. There is not miracle enough in the world to make it a good concert, musically, but I am sure everyone will be having a good time, and sometimes that is enough. I take pleasure in the company, and the exuberance that is better, sometimes, than perfection.

Jocasta the Cat has found a new friend in the space heater. She lies against it, asleep, head to a hot fin that I cannot stand to touch even for a few seconds.