Friday, March 26, 2010

Spring is for T.S. Eliot

I bought tulips, lilies of the valley, and hyacinths (they called me the hyacinth girl).

I wandered through Lowes, lingering by the pansies and their vibrant colors, and I stopped by all the loves streams and water fountains they had set up in a secluded area (the wind blows the water white and black). Now that it's spring (now that the lilacs are in bloom), my recurring obsession with home improvement stores is in bloom, and I tend to bring things home (she has a bowl of lilacs in her room).

The stream nearby is defrosted, so in the morning, when I drive by, the fog rolls off it (the yellow fog that rubs in back upon the window panes) and its like driving through a movie scene.

I'm listening to Ragtime right now (in a minute there is time for decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse) while Vor and I drink tea with the dog (talking of Michaelangelo).

And when I think about this blog, I think Dante said it best:

S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse / A persona che mai tornasse al mondo / Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse / Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo / Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero / Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.

Eliot agrees.

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