August 22nd, 2004

caillebotte_man at his window

Pale Morning

I didn't get to see Orion this morning after all. Clouds rolled up before midnight and concealed the stars. Now and then a few of them briefly glow hazily, but most of the sky remains dark. There is a heaviness to the air, and even most of the crickets have fallen silent. Were it not for the humming of the window fans, the night would be very quiet. Sunday morning will gray into being and reveal a stilled town with little traffic, deserted sidewalks, and empty parking lots.

Perhaps the sun will send the clouds packing before the churches fill with congregations unsummoned by any bells. This is a scattered place, and no sound can gather it together, no amount of light bring it into focus. It seems more coherent by night, when it can be pictured as a community of sleep, inhaling and exhaling with slow regularity, its disparate citizens conjoined by a universal need. By day, even leisure pulls the town apart.

But I am always apart from the town, even by night. My connection is to the trees and soil, the clouds and stars, the rooted grasses and the etched lines of distant mountains. All that is here built is strange to me, and the inhabitants are like figures in dreams, coming and going for no apparent reason. I sometimes wonder if, were I to return to Los Angeles, I would think that I had in fact dreamed this place. Maybe I will wake one day and find that I have.

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caillebotte_the orangerie

Sunday Successfully Endured

Most of the time, I don't read my own posts. Recently, though, there have been a couple of occasions when I've had the nagging feeling that I've forgotten something, so I go back a few hours later and check the entry and, sure enough, I've left out a word or a phrase. I'm getting sloppy, or developing symptoms of Alzheimer's. Drat!

The clouds decided not to go away today. They scudded here and there about the sky, draping their cool shade across fields and woods, then passing on to reveal the sun again. There was a lovely flock of lavender sky sheep just after sunset. I'm hoping the clouds will play the same games with the moon for a few hours. As it was quite a bit cooler today (though still balmy), there is a slight chance that I won't have to run the noisy window fans all night. I've almost forgotten what late night silence is like during these recent hellish weeks.

A brief burst of energy came upon me this afternoon, and I vacuumed the entire house. All the little dust bunnies now sleep in the canister, awaiting their fate. My carpets are clean(ish), and I got the added bonus of not spending that time reading the Sunday paper. I will sneeze less tonight, and know less of what is going on in the world. Win/win.