Santa Fe

Good morning darling. Waking up in the aerie with coffee. Picked myself up off the solarium floor at dawn, shut the radio, and fell into bed upstairs. Wrapped my arms around a pillow and fell asleep. Slept in til nearly nine and drifted awake, thinking of you, of how Penelope sighs musically in her sleep, and of the trip across the river yesterday, so simple yet so laden with impressions, a film unspooling as it was happening, and now.

(I hear the girls on their scooters in my driveway - they're back. At dusk yesterday I was in the solarium, heard noises in the driveway, glanced outside, and was surprised to see two young girls marching purposefully up the porch steps. I opened the door and they beamingly introduced themselves. One of them lives next door (has for at least a year) and the other described herself as "just her friend." I said, no such thing as "just" a friend - that's a great thing to be. (Do I ever miss an opportunity to extemporize philosophically?) They are very sweet. I wonder what prompted them to stop by. Could it be because a letter I wrote to the paper finally got published? I had wondered about it and yesterday at the library checked. Yes, on Tuesday. Good, that saves me from having to place a tedious call. It's an okay letter though writing "great land" was arguably laying it on too thick. Oh heck, why not. Democrats need to lay it on thick too. And by the way I'm rather liking the sight of flags, some tattered, some new, majestically flying everywhere.)

Anyway. We crossed the river, the mountains were covered in mist and I admired the steel structure of the Rip Van Winkle. I wanted a picture - memory full. Curses. Cleared memory, on other side already. Welcome to Catskill, home of the Catskill Glee Club. Drove west, then north, then up the hillside to the vet. D parked across from the low rustic building that sits nestled in the wooded landscape. He took in Rafe and I stayed in the car, enjoying the peaceful surround of protective trees. Radio on low, I pulled out readers, pen, and notebook and began to write. Then I pulled down the mirror. My eyes are blue. My hair was coming undone. Pinned it up again. Returned to writing. A car drove up, two women emerged with a terrier and went in. I unzipped my fleece. I like my outfit, the flattering top I'm wearing with jeans, lovely soft colors, brown and green, my new lacy bra beneath. I looked down the peaceful hill in all its vegetation, trees leafing out amid pink and white blossoms, beautifully untrimmed forsythia ablaze. I reached over to turn the key to the ignition and lowered my window. The layer between me and nature removed. Fragrant cool air hit my face. I love you, I wrote. Lost myself in writing and was startled when D returned with Rafe. Just the one vet today, he reported, not the one we usually get. We head back to the bridge. D tells a funny story. The vet says, I have to get cat food for my brother. Your brother eats cat food? Not that I know of. I bring it down to him in the city. He used to be a trucker. Then he found out he didn't want to be a trucker. Now he plays piano. Professionally? In hotels. That's professionally, but I don't want to know why he got out of trucking. It came to him. One day he looked around and said, you know, I play piano better than all these truckers. And that was it.

We crossed back over the bridge and I rolled down my window and snapped an image of the silver river. D offered to stop at an orchard at the foot of the bridge so I could get a few more shots. I got out and climbed a short hill to get a view of Olana. The grass was wet, my brown shoes became shiny with droplets, my bare feet in the open tops got wet, and it felt refreshing. I took pictures, realized that this was a cherry orchard, and thought of Chekhov. Then I got back in the car and looked forward to putting it all together in a post for you, with love and many kisses.