Hello darling, the most gorgeous day today, sunny, dry, not too hot. I took a walk this morning down the road and doubled back when I glimpsed, in someone's front yard, two small animals rooting around in the grass, so purposefully that they didn't notice me. My first thought was - are those foxes? Because the guy who lives there doesn't have puppies, he's got this huge hound that sometimes sits on the stoop and is so old or bored that he doesn't even bark when I pass by. I'm not positive they were foxes - could they have been coyote pups? Or - who knows - perhaps the guy has acquired puppies, but these creatures were a bit large, light orange-tinged russet, they didn't look quite like dogs. Nor, for that matter, so much like foxes either except for maybe their pale-fire coloring. Whatever they were, I didn't want to mess with them. What if they came charging up at me - and had rabies? Can I tell you that with the minor calamities I've endured of late - speeding ticket, laundered camera - I seriously don't need rabies shots, and there is no way I would ever wish my blog to come down from its blue-skied ribbon-festooned heights as I bestow kisses & blossoms aimed at my beloveds below, to turn into a grim diary of medical hell.
The most beautiful hour just now. I feel so sated from that delightful write-up of James Lord's of lunch with Dora. I love his line, "This was one of those moments that seemed to define the universe forever by the piercing delight of the present." Where I am now is just such a moment too. I lay down for a bit though I didn't sleep a wink, got up, before five, when the light turns more gentle, and went outside. I snipped more blossoms for another vase, a beautiful pale green art nouveau one from Olana, a gift from friends. It now sits replete on the sideboard, a second miniature Redon. I watered the garden and am very grateful that D has re-arranged hoses and purchased new lighter-weight ones with nifty nozzles, so that it is very easy for me to water now, I don't have to lug heavy, overly long ropes that get knotted up, and whose blast flattens delicate blooms. So the hour in warm golden light going about in braless top & diaphanous skirt watering tender annuals - I could imagine that I was perhaps in Provence. Though I needn't do that - being here is splendid enough. It's just that the thought came up after that vicarious, sensuous lunch with Dora - which after all that wine of course I needed a siesta!
That's it for now, darling, no big news. Birds are tweeting, children splash and shout in a pool next door, someone's riding a tractor mower, the summer motorcyclists are back roaring in occasional blasts down the nearby highway, slatted window shades filter in the mellow light, dinner will be grilled lamb chops, mesclun, and leftover potato salad, a tree frog warbles, I wonder about the total lunar eclipse which it seems won't be seen from here, oh, which reminds me that today is my name's day - so I'm glad for the treat of a Provencal lunch with or without Dora - truffle omelet! aperitif! foie gras! cheeses! That does sound heavenly - does it to you too? I would love a lunch like that with you in just such a setting as in the beautiful, apposite photo I happened to find...
(Apposite indeed - it turns out that the image is of the terrace of Dora Maar's former residence, in the village of Menerbes in the South of France, which now operates as a local international arts colony under the auspices of a foundation associated with the MFA in Houston.)
sweet dreams, darling