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The Windmill

Dragonfly shopping for earrings

Indira Ganesan, Dragonfly shopping for earrings, 2015

Eastham windmill

Eastham windmill

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Sometimes you have to get out of traffic.  I was stopped at a red light, in the odious stretch of cars on a Thursday -let’s -go -to -the -Cape -Cod -House,-darling, and the Man, -I -am -getting -out -before -the -tourists -arrive.  Okay, I am probably who still says “man.”  Regardless, I was waiting on a light.  A young woman and her daughter where behind the fence of what looked like a Crafts Fair, squatting on the grass (or maybe sitting, I don’t know) and watching the traffic.  I rolled down my window (AC) and asked if it was a Craft Fair.  Yeah, she said, It’s good, thinking that’s what I asked.  The light was still red, so on green, I made the turn, found amazing parking (getting out was another story) and hopped on out.

The fair was on the site of the Eastham Windmill,  a mill that ground corn driven by horse and wind power.

This was a good craft art fair, part of the Wellfleet Oyster Fest.  The first booth I stopped by had beautiful stained glass and shells; another had garden stakes made out of knitting needles topped by glass art shaped like dragonflies and butterflies. It also had a very much alive dragonfly who inspected the earrings with me.  The third, where I lingered the longest, where I wish I had bought something, where I might go back and do just that, featured mobiles made of stone and recycled bottles.  Think Calder, not Woodstock.  Beautifully crafted, the artist said yes, she loved making the work, and having something balanced as well.  I am going back. I wish Sandra Bland could as well.

Summer Reading

Girl Reading

Girl Reading

Summer is a lawn and an umbrella, and books to read.  All the books you couldn’t get to all year.  Summer allows for trips to the bookstore, trips to the library, all in good weather.  This summer, I am tackling War & Peace again, only this time I plan to read all the war sections. So far Napoleon has made an appearance, and a favorite character who was single in one chapter appears in the next not only married, but with a marriage on the skids.  In between courses of the big tome, I happily read Emma Straub’s The Vacationers and Hanna Pylvainen’s We Sinners.  Before, it was Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies, which made me sink into all thirty-eight episodes of “The Tudors,” a show which if not as intellectually compelling as Mantel, was colorfully addictive.  There are the books I didn’t make through last year, and the new ones I am placing in my mind’s reserve shelf.  Boundless summer, that has so much reading in it!

 

The mind wakes

Sky before storm

Sky before storm

It is about to storm.  The leaves are rustling like seeds in a gourd, like new silk saris.  Fog has partially covered the Monument, and the sky is wash of white.  One cat sleeps with a paw over her eyes, and another listens, alert, to the hammering of construction in the distance.  A car goes by, gathering speed.  Here is the thunder, low.

 

What it looks like now

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a longish view

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from the right

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new columbine blooms, and one fern taking root.

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after cutting down the iris, it began to sprout again.

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hidden basket

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more of the same

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Hidden miniature rose and pansies, salvia, & bee balm.

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From the right

So, here is what the Secret Hanging Gardens look like now.  To lemon balm*, iris, pansies, rose geranium, columbine, anemone,solomon’s seal, bee balm, wild violets, alyssum, million bells,  I’ve added a coleus, two types of Salvia, a bit of fern and sweet woodruff.  A protecting Crow Godess* watches. It is a garden of singles, of onesies, when wisdom says plant three of each, or five.  I hope in time, the violets and columbine will spread, as will the solomon’s seal.  I want to scatter some bulbs in the fall.

Does it represent my novel’s current state? My novel looks at a tragedy, which is couched in other events of a scattered extended family, during 1991-92.  That is, it is an assemblage of various plants (characters) in relationship to each other, but does it  an overarching harmonic scheme

Is it at all political?  Does it say anything?  This slender novel, I mean, garden,  beats back the wilderness with a view to free some trees.  Creating a garden; creating a novel?

What does it need, friends?

 

 

 

 

*Lemon balm from my friend, Alla; and a Crow Goddess medallion purchased from Sarah’s etsy shop.

Progress in the Woodland Garden

Hanging Gardens of Little Shalimar

Hanging Gardens of Little Shalimar

Wild honeysuckle

Wild honeysuckle

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