My neighbor just came to visit, and reminded me about Daylight Savings Time next Sunday. “It will be lighter later, ” she said.

All day, it has been either stormy or sunny. There are wonderfully dark clouds hovering over the sunset tonight, but in between are the light madonna-blue skies. I wouldn’t mind a thunderstorm, being inside, being that it’s Friday. I worked on my book-in-progress, searching vainly for a plot. For the past few months, my work has been going strong, but where is it leading?

When I was seventeen and in India, studying at a Fine Arts program, I nearly failed our mid-year exam in watercolor. We were to take a word and recreate it on paper using art. By that I mean if I chose the word “Cloud” I had to render the word in letters painted to look like clouds. I chose “Flowers” but somehow I made the startling discovery that by mixing my colors, there were an infinite number of shades and hues to be had. I was having enormous fun, even though some Senior girls came by and said, “all very good, but you need to finish.” Finally, my teacher came by and said I had better start using what was already on my palette, repeating colors, as I would not be able to finish in time. My pride hurt, I became indifferent, slopping colors quickly, so the whole effort looked bipolar. I think I passed.

Returning to North America, I went back to being an English major.

My friend Di had a great slogan once: “We May Be Late But We Get It Done Right.”

My novel is ten years over due. I think that teacher was right, though. I need to use what is on my palette. Hopefully, it will get done right.

(image by © Piotr Skubisz | Dreamstime.com)

I used my first chemix coffee maker in Cambridge, MA.  I had rented an apartment on Walker Street, a British-like bed-sit which required a descend down some stairs.  It had access to a garden filled with roses, a lovely landlady, the late Natalie Grow, and in the cupboard, two glass apothecary jars, and a chemix with some filters. It was so beautiful, an oversized hour-glass-shaped glass beaker with a wooden corset , held together by a leather cord with two wooden beads on the end.  The corset must keep in the heat, I reasoned, or help protect the glass.  (Turns out, it was an effective way to protect the hand while pouring.)  It was scientific, aptly named.

I’d never used one before , but it seemed easy to figure out.  Heat water, pour through the chemix lined with paper & filled with ground coffee.  I didn’t rinse the filters first.  That would not have only improved the taste but preheated the coffee contraption.  I can’t remember the coffee I drank in Cambrige, but I remember the Chemex. And I remember Natalie. One of the first bank presidents in the country, and a yogini, she had visited India four times, chramingly bulldozed her way to a Master’s.  At 78, she was radient with energy.

On my move-in day, she kept a vase waiting for me filled with white tulips.