I was right when I said nobody comes the this site on Fridays. I don't know why. Vagaries of the marketplace? It picks back up--when? Maybe Saturdays. Maybe Sundays. But today is the first day of Spring. The Vernal (or as I like to refer to it, the Carnal) Equinox. Equal darkness and light. A balance, if you will. Nature's. . . ? Nature has proven itself not what I've thought. The earthquake in Chile has shifted the earth's axis enough to change the length of a day. I had always held that sacrosanct, irrefutable. But days and months and years and even decades and centuries are not concrete hallmarks. Nope. The world has shifted, and there is change in the air.
Our little town has an art festival this weekend. It is one of America's Best, they say, though it is not really all that good, really. But people like to come here in March to escape the lingering fingers of winter where they are, so it is a popular place just now.
Downtown, the streets are blocked and tables and chairs are set up on brick streets. Beautiful people put on the first of their new spring clothing. It is a fashion fest and a libido festival, too. I have participated since the 1970's, but this is the 51st year it has taken place. In the past, I went to many bawdy bacchanals falling on this weekend.
But last night I went to see "Alice in Wonderland: 3D" with my ten year old pal and his mother, and today we must get out early to get him to the baseball field by eight o'clock. We went to see the art yesterday afternoon, though, and he opined on what he liked and didn't. We often disagreed.
"Now that's a good painting!" he declared loudly at one of the exhibits about a gaudy piece of schlock.
"What's a quarter times a quarter?" I asked him. He struggled with the math a moment standing in the crowd. Made a mistake, the answer slightly off.
"See," I said, "you don't know anything."
"What do you mean?" he shot back.
"Just like that painting," I said.
Then we went for wine and Parrot Punch before the movie.
Here is my offering to Spring. I think it a good one. But I fear that someone may ask me, "What's an eighth times an eighth?" and I'll stumble.
"See," they'll say.
Yup.
excellent offering to Spring...
ReplyDeleteLOL -- how mean of you to be asking math on a friday night!
ReplyDeleteI have 24 hours to get a poem written for a show next weekend. I've had the painting for 8 or 9 months. My friend said "well that's sure squishing your deadline"
Spring has finally come. I spent yesterday moving all the white furniture into the library -- getting rid of stupid things I'd collected over the long winter and of course cleaning windows and sliding down the screens. It was blissful. And I always feel a bit "old-fashioned" remembering my mother changing curtains and such at this same time.
Spring is usually one of my most productive poem writing seasons. NaPoMo is growing near. I hope to become intoxicated by the season.
Yup.
xo
R, And it paid back with the loveliest of weather. But sunny days don't last forever.
ReplyDeleteL, But surely poetry is written in a moment? Kerouac and all. I hope this spring is productive for you as well. I hope the flowers are as colorful and the skies as bright as you remember them.