time and place

Down from power lines a broad shadow tumbles to the ground. A thousand feathers rustle as the wings of the flock are tucked. On the sidewalk, in the green grass, a hundred spotted throats peck. In the rout moths flash the red undersides of their wings from inside ivory beaks. Curling worms and millipedes clutch the air, moist soil crumbing off their shiny segments. From their places the sudden flock, a wave breaking, swarms up like fallen leaves exploding back onto a tree.

The dog’s eyes are unfocused. Standing outside the cafe, she looks up hopefully each time the door opens. She is chocolate colored so I take to thinking of her as “Chocolate.” Her leash is tied to a cable that secures a newspaper box to a traffic sign post. Just out of her reach, a fire hydrant sits ignored. She paces back and forth a bit nervously, sitting once or twice for a moment but then standing back up and walking around. She walks and stands with her legs a little splayed out like a puppy, as if she is unsteady and has to work against tipping over by mistake.

Although she is scruffy the way older dogs get sometimes, she is still very beautiful. She has sad eyes. Chocolate is also so very obviously mellow that almost everyone who passes by stops to pet her. She accepts the petting with a minimum of interest and no wagging of any kind. She angles her head up under each petting hand to get a sniff in, impulsively. Chocolate is distracted. Around her neck is an old fragment of a knit scarf, tied in a knot. Probably it was knit by her owner. It is the kind of thing a cat would never put up with. The scarf is discolored with age and clumpy like a dreadlock and I wonder if it bothers her. No doubt she would enjoy a good scratching under it. A passing man with a toy-like pug runs into someone he knows and pauses right by the newspaper box for a conversation. As the people begin to chat, the pug and Chocolate greet each other nose to nose for some preliminary sniffing. She is still distracted and maybe not interested and begins smelling the man’s shoe instead. Meanwhile, the pug circles around back to sniff Chocolate’s other end. Then, completely unaware of their spontaneous coordination, the trio solemnly execute a slapstick gag. The man backs up, forcing Chocolate back, and as a result, the pug. They all move ponderously in reverse like linked train cars backing slowly around a curve. Once or twice the pug seems to get more of a snoutful than he wants. And then it is over. The man is still involved in his conversation. Chocolate is still distracted. The pug sniffs intently but eventually loses interest himself. A minute later, his conversation over, the man seems to notice Chocolate for the first time. He pets her goodbye and pulls the pug along after him. For Chocolate, the minutes continue to drag.

“Ladies? Imagine you are Atlas!” cried their dance instructor. This coming just after they had arranged themselves as the Three Graces.

Millicent discarded her momentary annoyance at how Mrs. St. Ruth always shouted “Ladies” as a question. Actually it was Claire who had pointed out the quirk one day as they gossiped about their teacher. Claire found it amusing. Now Millicent noticed it every time. She could feel Claire smirking behind her.

She told herself not to think about that and instead she imagined being Atlas. As she tried to get into character, she realized that she didn’t know much about Atlas. He was probably one of those Greek gods. “I hope he’s not being punished.” thought Millicent. “Not like that one god who brought fire to man and then was bound to a rock and every day a bird came and tore his heart out and ate it.”

In her mind Millicent pictured Atlas. There was a brushed chrome statue of Atlas on each of the front corners of a new building downtown. Each stood on a stone corbel and seemed to be using his corner of the building to help him support the weight of the world, which he held over his head.

“Atlas: bare-chested, powerful, enduring.” thought Millicent. “I would be his Amazonian Queen.” Millicent imagined herself six feet tall, with a quiver of arrows strapped to her back and carrying a bow taller than a man. Her dark hair would shine in the sun as she strode barefoot, hips swaying. She would wear a jeweled girdle, and straps made from the skin of a giant snake would hold a breastplate to her bosom. The songs of her sisters would echo through the hills. She would be beautiful. Men helplessly trapped by their desire to conquer her would come from every land and she would imprison them until the day she had an army large enough to shoulder the world and free her Atlas. Only then would she let Atlas kiss her.

“Millicent? Focus!” cried Mrs. St. Ruth.

For my 40th birthday we went to Ashland and saw “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. The whole weekend was as near perfect as things can be in real life. We got out of town, spent a couple nights in a B&B, ate lots of great food, visited a park and a used bookstore, spent some time reading in our room, and saw a very entertaining production of a Shakespeare comedy.

Weekend bike bag contents: A package of Trader Joe’s Dried Pomelo, an IBM stinkpad, a copy of “The Charles Addams Mother Goose”, my Mac Mini, “Passages” by Connie Willis (which, alas, is not very good so far), two very trashy M.E. Chaber “Milo March” paperback thrillers from the early ’70s, and Mr. Chang.

Found this enormous and beautiful spider last night in my back yard.

That’s all. Just an amazing flower in my garden. It’s a “Hens and Chicks” succulent flower.

Yesterday we went to see the Vancouver Chinese Music Ensemble play at the Portland Chinese Classical Garden and it was very entertaining. I’m a big fan of the Chinese Classical Garden. They have everything a person could want in one place. Fascinating architecture, bonsai, a huge pond with fish, a beautiful garden, and a great tea house in the Tower of Cosmic Reflections (pictured below.)

The Ensemble was very good. They play more “traditional” Chinese music, and also seem to be interested in all kinds of music. They introduced every song with a description of what was to come. The selections varied from a Chinese war epic penned in 202 B.C. to “Oh Suzanna”. I would liken the concert to about any traditional world music mix CD. It will most likely contain things you will enjoy and other things you might not, and different people will find that they like different things. In this case the balance was well over to the “good” side.

They were very earnest and enthusiastic and put on an excellent show. For the record, there are more shows and different bands at the Garden coming up. Check them out here.

(I remember at the Montgomery Station in San Francisco there used to be an old Chinese man who would play his erhu for change. An erhu could probably best be described as a kind of Chinese violin. I used to stop and listen to him every once in a while. He didn’t seem to follow any rhythm and actually sounded very much like a howling cat, but sad. To me, at best, it evoked Chinese calligraphy, with lots of purposeful bold strokes, hooks, and finesse. But it sounded awful. I always suspected that I lacked the cultural experience or vocabulary to appreciate what he was up to with that instrument. Either that or he was really bad. It’s funny but I used to be shy about listening to him and would always stand somewhere he couldn’t see me listening.)

It’s a long story but this past Saturday I ended up at the farmers market in the Hollywood District and found myself drawn to this plant. I asked the lady who was selling them what it was and she said “A dwarf eggplant.”

Horrifying! I don’t know about anybody else but the only way I like eggplant is at Dim Sum restaurants. MMMMM. My distaste for eggplant runs so deep that I very nearly didn’t buy it until I realized that I could just get it as an ornamental. I ran immediately to the ATM and got cash so I could buy this for $2. Two dollars!

Am I crazy?

I think this one isn’t the healthiest. I’m planning on transplanting to a larger container. Apparently this variety, “bambino,” only grows to a foot. The fruit are described as “thumb sized.”

OK OK it’s mostly done. It’s a 170 gallon semi-formal pond with a waterfall. The waterfall is still in progress and so is some of the plumbing. I’ve got two wakin goldfish in the pond. Wakins are a variety of goldfish developed in Japan and are the standard goldfish there.

Pond (a bit out of date):

Fish:

Idyllic Scene: