April 11, 2010

Plane ride home, had a lanky Dane on one side and a cold, beautiful American blond on the other. She said nothing that was not required by courtesy. The Dane showed me his Apple Something with a big screen and a picture of his daughter. Slept some, then played trivia. Could hear the kids farther back in the plane calling my screen name as I trounced them again and again. It was fun, and the time flew. The Dane sprawled against me as he slept. I felt almost that I was reading his dreams.

Gold and orange crown imperial, pink bleeding heart, the blue anemone are in bloom (the anemone about one for every ten I planted). Also trout lily and the yellow wood poppy. The camellia refused to set down new roots, and I pulled it up today. Planted cinnamon fern, cosmos, and Mexican sunflowers, the annuals as placeholders in spots I’ve not committed yet– such as the opening left by the death of the colossal rhododendron, that was big and old when I moved here. More dirt into more holes, the bags weighty from the rain. Thought about writing as I worked. I’m glad I went to the AWP conference, for writing seems a real again, an objective act, rather just something blended in with my subjectivity.