well, I miss my dogs, of course, but the ones here are pretty big, pretty friendly and seem to encompass some of the space and comfortability that the dogs at home supply. I see the little logs of wood waiting for the fire. I know where the chain saw awaits my turning around the chain so that it will cut these logs to the right size for the fireplace. I see the cool weather with the damp lawn, the little shrubbery going down the slope, the woodshed of creativity that depends on morning glory to keep the rain off the wood inside it...mmhmm, not gonna happen, that, but I did tarp that wood and it still needs defining to fit in what I call the Polish stove...I suppose it is a Polish stove, so contrary, so unable to heat the house no matter what burns in it...well, I move with the pace of a hopping flea at home, always engaged in a task, unless I'm sitting directly in front of the fire, contemplating my next adventure. That's kind of a fun thing to do, but then I'll sweep and dust along the sides of the stove, rearrange the furniture near it, wash windows, dust, play music...would that the piano had at last arrived...I cannot understand why it hasn't already magically appeared in its preordained spot...music waits at every turn near the site of the placement..there are oriental rugs christened and steadfast in their places, there are a stack of paintings holding the spot...there is a blank wall that will never hold pictures because the back of the piano will rest there...there is even new floor where the old floor was a plank of plywood. but there isn't a piano as yet.
what I do actually have is the piano. I do plan to tune it, I have a funny little tool that will twang the strings so I can determine the resonance...the right pitch I think they call it, the thing you do with a guitar, same principle, twist the little ivory-capped screw at the top of the neck, plink the string, compare it to the next until you've done them all...so it will be with the piano and it will provide me with a medium to declare my innocence in the world, a way of speaking to it, describing it, the bird call, the big long bus last night that was totally electric and running on a set of three wheels down its underbelly, the pregnant daughter about to give birth, that's a sonata right there, at least...
but I guess there's poetry as well, real words aligned in a paragraph or two, or several pages, that talk about an epic or just an observation..that could work, it has to have been working this long without the piano...oh, there's the garden too, well, I did the front part last month, just dug it all up and told it to behave, I need some fancy lilies there, stargazers and callas and so forth because the little slope there does very well with lillies and it's time to put them in for next spring. there's also this funny bush there that needs a good prune, like I needed a good prune the last few days...it's boogered and shapeless and looks like a pair of nylons with ladders, about run out and I think, eh a little mugo pine or two, lots of bark, pretty big rocks, that would do it, it would, but there's the highway right on it, so you have to think about that, what kind of aesthetic isgoing on there that should be addressed, a kind of a buffer perhaps, like Sid's little cone of cedar...it will grow taller and I put another pine there, another baby I rescued from the gutter of Georgia's little cabin..I s topped hovering over them when it began to be rainy, I do hope they'll thrive and not turn orange like the other hemlock. I was hoping to bonsai but apparently the hemlock did a new lifecycle and cloned itself so that there are now more than one of it.. so we'll see how the baby pines do. there's also that mix of weed and weed out front there that I twisted up a bit with varigated grass, a variety I have that multiplies like flies in summer. Like the flies here in Mesa that know about Cash and June, the two dogs...and the oranges, the flies must really like the orange trees as well..well I guess one is a grapefruit. The varigated grass spreads in the yard as if ithas its own agenda, it goes where it will, determined. I'm not sure the orange poppy is even there anymore it has spread so, but that lilly I planted in front of it, well it'll have to be put on the slope along with some others I'll find...some I think
Carolyn will give me when I get back to the gardening zone, the forest primeval where we live..
I just about blipped into a poem there
I wasn't going to speak in the manner of Robert Frost, but I was going to think and say a thing or two
in a way that made it the light skip of words that poetry is
some that rests with you afterward...a way of observing the clarity of observation
I see what Isee because it's in front of me, or I feel what I feel because I heard and saw it and perhaps I
processed it in my thinking mode in a way that made me have an impression of emotion
I guess
I should make some more coffee, I am having fun with this and it's all being put into my own words in my own place to save it..I think this is very nice...and it's willison cottage because that's what it is, where I do this
I could say more about willison cottage, what it meant to me growing up
that could be described
it's not a vermont snowcovered house in the woods where the trees are bare
no...and about charming, it's getting there but monkey brown paint is probably going to have to go the way
of troll dolls and neon shoelaces...a trend fortified by better paint in this case...
ok...I think I will talk about willison cottage since I talked about the front slopeand the lillies that should go there
the lillies that I have that aren't there that should be there
those are a nice yellow, Himalayan water lillies I described them...but what I meant was the stargazers are out and about...wanting to come home, along with all the tulips and the other flowers that were planted
and took a journey to another yard, that I might see them in their full benefit...
coffee..
what I do actually have is the piano. I do plan to tune it, I have a funny little tool that will twang the strings so I can determine the resonance...the right pitch I think they call it, the thing you do with a guitar, same principle, twist the little ivory-capped screw at the top of the neck, plink the string, compare it to the next until you've done them all...so it will be with the piano and it will provide me with a medium to declare my innocence in the world, a way of speaking to it, describing it, the bird call, the big long bus last night that was totally electric and running on a set of three wheels down its underbelly, the pregnant daughter about to give birth, that's a sonata right there, at least...
but I guess there's poetry as well, real words aligned in a paragraph or two, or several pages, that talk about an epic or just an observation..that could work, it has to have been working this long without the piano...oh, there's the garden too, well, I did the front part last month, just dug it all up and told it to behave, I need some fancy lilies there, stargazers and callas and so forth because the little slope there does very well with lillies and it's time to put them in for next spring. there's also this funny bush there that needs a good prune, like I needed a good prune the last few days...it's boogered and shapeless and looks like a pair of nylons with ladders, about run out and I think, eh a little mugo pine or two, lots of bark, pretty big rocks, that would do it, it would, but there's the highway right on it, so you have to think about that, what kind of aesthetic isgoing on there that should be addressed, a kind of a buffer perhaps, like Sid's little cone of cedar...it will grow taller and I put another pine there, another baby I rescued from the gutter of Georgia's little cabin..I s topped hovering over them when it began to be rainy, I do hope they'll thrive and not turn orange like the other hemlock. I was hoping to bonsai but apparently the hemlock did a new lifecycle and cloned itself so that there are now more than one of it.. so we'll see how the baby pines do. there's also that mix of weed and weed out front there that I twisted up a bit with varigated grass, a variety I have that multiplies like flies in summer. Like the flies here in Mesa that know about Cash and June, the two dogs...and the oranges, the flies must really like the orange trees as well..well I guess one is a grapefruit. The varigated grass spreads in the yard as if ithas its own agenda, it goes where it will, determined. I'm not sure the orange poppy is even there anymore it has spread so, but that lilly I planted in front of it, well it'll have to be put on the slope along with some others I'll find...some I think
Carolyn will give me when I get back to the gardening zone, the forest primeval where we live..
I just about blipped into a poem there
I wasn't going to speak in the manner of Robert Frost, but I was going to think and say a thing or two
in a way that made it the light skip of words that poetry is
some that rests with you afterward...a way of observing the clarity of observation
I see what Isee because it's in front of me, or I feel what I feel because I heard and saw it and perhaps I
processed it in my thinking mode in a way that made me have an impression of emotion
I guess
I should make some more coffee, I am having fun with this and it's all being put into my own words in my own place to save it..I think this is very nice...and it's willison cottage because that's what it is, where I do this
I could say more about willison cottage, what it meant to me growing up
that could be described
it's not a vermont snowcovered house in the woods where the trees are bare
no...and about charming, it's getting there but monkey brown paint is probably going to have to go the way
of troll dolls and neon shoelaces...a trend fortified by better paint in this case...
ok...I think I will talk about willison cottage since I talked about the front slopeand the lillies that should go there
the lillies that I have that aren't there that should be there
those are a nice yellow, Himalayan water lillies I described them...but what I meant was the stargazers are out and about...wanting to come home, along with all the tulips and the other flowers that were planted
and took a journey to another yard, that I might see them in their full benefit...
coffee..
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