2011-03-07 - 9:50 a.m.
hope and union
perhaps you might like to envision my silent friend as montgomery clift before the car wreck - it's the pretty eyes, and the self-contained set of his shoulders. he's neither awkward nor shy, particularly - in fact, he's quite charming with the ladies. he's just silent.
it's such a luxury, silence.
i spent the weekend in a conference room, watching the bradford pears sway against a steely sky through the windows' grid and frame. it rained, and the air smelled sweet like new grass and wet rock. the staff brought us coffee, called in dinner reservations and arranged for a shuttle to take us from place to place. beyond this cocoon of clever ideas, i could forget how to do things for myself.
back at home, my succulents are blooming in the kitchen window. peachy kalanchoe, sunset-coloured echeveria, flask-shaped haworthia flowers in preppy pink-and-green. the cats arch themselves up to be petted, and then they topple over in a happy stretch and writhe.
a new week, a sunny morning. i go for a run around the lake, and there's the sound of wind and birds in the branches.
* * *
reading: the true deceiver, by tove janssen.
listening to: the first cars on the road, quiet morning noises.
working on: three things at once.
in the garden: my "february gold" narcissus waited to bloom until the first week of march.