Herbs

 

February 28, 2023

Warm and fair. Went to Reems Creek Nursery, but it was bare to the pavement, not a tree, not a bush, just some wintery annuals and herbs. Jesse Israel looked the same the other day. This must be the time of year when nurseries clean out their stock. Where do all those unsold plants go? Reacting to this, I bought what herbs were available, resolving to start a porch container garden. Planted peppermint, spearmint, rosemary in the big pots I’ve accumulated, the ones not smashed by bears. Lavender still to go, but I think those will go into the ground. Moving the pots uncovered principalities of the pill bugs. I watched one zig zag around in the sun–which must have been painful for it-- until it found a crack between the bricks big enough to hide in until dark. 

Red-shouldered screaming too high to be seen. 

Watched a concert version of Carousel early into the morning. I was sad and didn’t want to sleep. The musical made me sadder and happier at the same time. Musicals were rejected from our family entertainment, usually, but for some reason we did see the movie Carousel, and my memories of it are vivid and enduring. I thought Julie Jordan was like my mother. I didn’t think exactly that last night, but I remembered why I had.

 

February 27, 2023

The Pen of Revision hovers in the air. Went to Biltmore Park to waste some time and spend some money. S has been made Senior Warden. I’m trying to think of a comparison to make. Lucy Ricardo asked to be PTA President? A solid Cathedral matriarchy in any case. Did I want to do it? Probably not. But I think it was absurd–and disrespectful–to have been passed over for the stupid and trifling.It sends some sort of message. Don't know what.  

Video of a woman in Knoxville dying in fear and pain while the police mocked her. One of them made a show of getting sprayed with Lysol after she touched him. “Wanna go to jail? You’re going to jail now–” while she lay in the car begging for her life. They tortured and tormented her, snickering as they did. I don’t know what to do. I wish I were Thor and the unanswerable hammer in my hand. 

Organ

 

February 26, 2023

Afternoon organ concert. One way of reporting it is to say I slept through it; another way is to say that the music and my subconscious blended into a beautiful and extended phantasm.

Portrait

 

February 25, 2023

Tried my first portrait today, of Stephan, from the publicity photo for his US tour. Maybe he’s too handsome for a legitimate test. 

Nap dreams: in one, Ellen and I go to the theater in Dublin. I somehow have acquired a taxicab. I drop her off at the hotel, then try to return the cab. I don’t know where I got it. I can’t put it in PARK, so eventually I ease it up against a stone wall and abandon it. In another I am the Pope in a white gown and scarlet sash. My chief adviser is a woman who berates me about some gaff until I agree to go on TV and apologize for it. This is while we are both running across a tarmac to catch a plane. 

 

February 24, 2023

Meetings in two places at once. I thought that life was over. 

Deeply applied gardening. Dug out roots and vines and brambles and tangles, but mostly the mounds of bamboo that want to take over the world. Feeling of accomplishment, though not that much ground was covered. 

 

February 23, 2023

Sat by the river and wrote. When I sit to write, I can. I am meant to take this as a blessing. I am meant to take this as a blessing that balances the lack of all others. Almost, I do. 

Ash Wednesday

 

February 22, 2023

Ash Wednesday

It’s noon and I have had a busy and a happy day. They who prescribe physical activity for melancholy are right. Moved the from-the-first-moment-horrible picnic table and opened the many square feet of driveway under it that had been taken over by English ivy. It lifted up in mats of impressive mass. Dug up the poor nectarine that fell on its side the first year and somehow kept living. I am sorry for that. 

Inhabited a few summers after I arrived at 62, soon abandoned and since rotting away, Carolyn’s purple marten house has finally crashed to the ground. 

Melody’s house is. I think, re-inhabited. At least the pattern of lights changes from night to night.

Sang for Ash Wednesday, received the ashes. Saturn and Jupiter hung about the scimitar moon. A bat flew across the Cathedral just as we prepared to enter.