May 5th, 2004



Tonight I saw the moonlight turn a white picket fence to a row of bleached bones. I don't know why I never noticed that resemblance before. All night, I've had two fans running -- one to bring cool night air into the room, and the other to blow that air toward Sluggo. I don't know if it's worked or not, but I know that my ears are ringing with the noise of it. I don't get on well with machinery. I might have fit in better with the world as it was in some earlier age, when the creaking of a windmill, the puffing of a blacksmith's bellows or the whir of a potter's or spinster's wheel would have been the most mechanical of sounds. Of course, in such an age I would most likely have died of some childhood disease, so I wouldn't have enjoyed the relative serenity long. I'll put up with the noisy fans and the cranky computer.

At least I get to go out now and then to hear the soft chirping of the crickets, my favorite insects. Well, perhaps butterflies are my favorite insects, though they make no music that I can hear. I guess that crickets are my favorite nocturnal insects. In any case, there numbers are greatly increased now, so that their songs overlap, and rise and fall like the rhythm of rain. It is very restful.

Each night, the contents of the room are diminished. Soon, it will be quite spacious here. I wonder if I'll be able to stop? Perhaps I'll become so enamored of discarding things that I'll end up emptying the place out entirely. No, wait. I can't discard Sluggo, or the CD player, or the bed that pretends to be a couch when I'm not sleeping in it, and I must keep a minimum of clothing in the closet. The CDs' would have to stay too -- though not all of them -- and there are a few items such as pictures and a few favorite books with which I'd rather not part. But I'm sure I could make the place almost empty. I'll never use most of the stuff that's in here, anyway. Oh, it feels good to get rid of things.

Almost the time when light wakes the first birds now. I will turn off the fans for a few minutes of peace before the avian din begins. Say good-night, Sluggo.
caillebotte_the balcony

Early Blooms

This afternoon, I noticed that the jasmine hedge is covered with tiny white blossoms. I will probably be able to smell their perfume tonight. The jasmine seldom blooms before June, and I have never before know it to blossom in the first week of April. The season turns ever stranger. As much as I would enjoy a nice rainstorm, the cherries have already grown almost to that stage at which rain would cause them to split open. I doubt that it will happen, though. Despite the lovely cirrus clouds which decorated the sky today, it seems unlikely that this spring will produce any more moisture. Already, the fire danger warnings have gone up on the signs at the fire stations. A long, hot summer looms.

It is time to open the windows and start the fans. It might be a bit cooler tonight, since the clouds have diverted some of the days heat, but I can't imagine Sluggo working for more than half an hour at a time. He's close to his evening limit now. I am going to go out and watch the flocks of birds I glimpse through the window, flying high in the fading sky.