April 11th, 2002

caillebotte_man at his window

Oddly

Sometimes I get the feeling that I have wandered into an eccentric translation of a symbolist poem which has somehow displaced reality. I look about and see, for example, fragments of Mallarme.

The lively, lovely and virginal today
will its drunken wings tear for us with a blow
the lake hard and forgotten, haunted below
the frost by the clear glacier of flights not made?


So, I'm not quite sure what anything means if anything at all. The real trees and real ground are there in the dark waiting for morning to reveal them to me, and I will look at them and wonder what they are other than what they appear to be. There is just this feeling that there is something more to all of it. Behind that scattering of apple blossoms on grey pavements, behind the burgeoning green clouds of new foliage, behind the scent of flowers on the breeze, there is something I can't quite grasp.

I might open a door in the air and enter another world. I might never know what I have done. Are things ever what they seem?
caillebotte_the orangerie

Stuff In the Front Yard

The blossoms of the fruitless mulberry tree, like brown caterpillers, now thickly carpet the lawn. The tree has shed many twings, as well. I don't rake them up. I like to watch them dry out. They form interesting patterns on the ground. The lichen under the tree is barely visible under all the detritus. A few clumps of bermuda grass poke up from it. There are dandelions on the lawn now. Some of the seed heads are blown, otheres are quivering in the afternoon breeze. There are camellia blossoms littering the walk. Soem are still red, others have withered and turned brown. I like to leave these lie, too. They are like reminders of autumn in the riotous exuberence of spring. White lillies are blooming along the edge of the lawn, under the lilac bushes and the neighbor's small apple tree. I like those plants which have pointy leaves sticking up and flowers on long stalks. There is something very encouraging about them. First Thrust of Green Resolve. That was the title of a painting I saw once. It suits my mood today.

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