December has already come

 – About gardening in Baja and living in the moment –

  Parvin’s garden is coming up fast! It needs a lot of tender care. Water is scarce and needs to be hauled. But with all the sun everything grows like crazy.

 We have Swiss Chard, Mustard Greens, Basil, Cilantro, Lettuce, Arugula, Peppers, and more.

 And we got heavenly cool weather by now.

 Another storm came blowing down from the cold north …

 … and wiped out the bugs.

 I actually put on a sweatshirt this morning for the very first time – for an hour or so. Winter is coming!

 * * *

 The canyons have so much water this year!




In the Moment

 By Billy Collins


It was a day in June, all lawn and sky,

the kind that gives you no other choice

but to unbutton your shirt

and sit outside in a rough wooden chair.

And if a glass of ice tea and a volume

of seventeenth century poetry

with a dark blue cover are available,

then the picture can hardly be improved.

I remember a fly kept landing on my wrist,

and two black butterflies

with white and red wing-dots

bobbed around my head in the bright air.

I could feel the day offering itself to me,

and I wanted nothing more

than to be in the moment – but which moment?

Not that one, or that one, or that one,

or any of those that were scuttling by

seemed perfectly right for me.

Plus, I was too knotted up with questions

about the past and his tall, evasive sister, the future.

What churchyard held the bones of George Herbert?

Why did John Donne’s wife die so young?

And more pressingly,

what could we serve the vegetarian twins

who were coming to dinner that evening?

Who knew that they would bring their own grapes?

And why was the driver of that pickup

flying down the road toward the lone railroad track?

And so the priceless moments of the day

were squandered one by one –

or more likely a thousand at a time –

with quandary and pointless interrogation.

All I wanted was to be a pea of being

inside the green pod of time,

but that was not going to happen today,

I had to admit to myself.

as I closed the book on the face

of Thomas Traherne and returned to the house

where I lit a flame under the pot

full of floating brown eggs,

and, while they cooked in their bubbles,

I stared into a small oval mirror near the sink

to see if that crazy glass

had anything special to tell me today.

* * * * * *

Water drawing pictures in the sand.



                                                            Klaus December 1.   2008

This entry was posted in 2008/2009, Winters and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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