~ Monday, April 23, 2001 ~

 

12:58 a.m. The photos I have stored up for use here in these pages are very misleading. This is one of the least lush of the current batch, if you can believe that. The streets and small gardens here at Venice by the sea are brimming over with beauty, and you'd think I had a hand in it, but I didn't.

I merely walk about, snapping the quick photo, checking the always greedy batteries, and then walk on. I would like to become the sort of gardener who can create such beauty, but so far I'm definitely not that person.

I might become such a person. It's possible. Today I sat in the sun for a while, and I did weed the contents of one of my own big terracotta bowls, and I actually did feel that there might be a future between me and the sprouts. Maybe.

Of course I felt worried and jumpy about the work I wasn't finishing back at the computer and whenever I'm outside I feel as if I'm playing hooky. That's a phrase you don't hear very often, I'll bet. School is in session and you're expected to be at your desk.

I realize that the work waiting on the desk will never actually be finished; nor will the work in the garden. For some reason, gardeners seem to absorb this information more calmly than paper pushers. I don't know -- maybe it's easier to see you true place in the grand scheme of things when you're on your hands and knees.

And the sun feels so good ...

Brief pieces, these last few days. A quick sketch, check the always greedy clock, and move on.