"The solitary life, which Emily had led of late, and the melancholy subjects, on which she had suffered her thoughts to dwell, had rendered her at times sensible to the 'thick-coming fancies' of a mind greatly enervated.--Ann Radcliffe, Mysteries of UdolphoStorms gathered in my head, but in the afternoon my mood began to lift. I was heartened by the notion that, in a Sahara of page hits, in Antwerp someone had expressed a turning away from coriander while back in the States, at an airport perhaps, was a thought of cilantro soup. Return, embrace, mashup. Kisses, my dearest love.
I tried to keep things simple today, just keep moving. I skimmed swathes of Udolpho. I relate to Emily, and feel myself to be in the midst of a quality 21st century gothic of sorts. So trying on the nerves. But what is my alternative? Trying to keep one foot in front of the other in other respects, no matter my mad mind. I took a vigorous walk at the conservation area. All sorts of impure - no, perfectly pure! - delicious reveries and impulses there on this spectacular day. Back home, I did a bit of gardening, clipping off last year's brown sedum stalks and heads. New growth is emerging. I cooked up a big pot of chili and organized rice to go with it. I had all the ingredients to make oatmeal-raisin cookies -- so I did. I would have made dough for a plum tart but realized I had run out of flour. I am constantly running out of if not one thing, then another these days. I used to make it an absolute point never to run out of anything - to plan, to anticipate, to keep basics at least, in seamless supply. Things have broken down here, understandably enough...
On the porch now at an exquisite hour, sun on my face, I close my eyes, and my heart is full of love for you.
Penelope in the doorway. Add to image: warm sun, birds squawking, chimes clanging, KZE streaming, breeze blowing, sips of iced cherry wine, thoughts of you, and very many kisses.