L'aura del Campo

Weekend's over! Games are WAY over!!

Tocatta, two cinquains, a bluejay feather, Jayhawk debacle, postcard sent, a friend from Tokyo, pines, inconsiderate fans, children in the crabapple, finished 'Hiroshima', still reading 'The Waves' ... slowly.

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███████          O vento do campo           ███████

OUTONO: 12 Mashiyyat (8 outubro)

'é a lua,  é a lua,  na quintana dos mortos'
♣    Federico García Lorca    ♣

A VIDA

Staying at home has the down side of not being with people. So I'm glad when I go to hear the bells (saw Hatsumi; she played an awesome toccata), get to the Union (saw Tetsuye who was visiting from Tokyo for 3 days) or the coffeehouses (lots of known faces!).

I picked up a bluejay feather, saw a small young squirrel (will it have enough body fat to survive the winter?), marvelled in the growth from the redbud stump cut down last year. I delight in the persistence of the living melody.

Must go to the garden to start picking the peppers and tomatoes before we get a frost, possibly later this week.

Sunday was a pleasant warm 80º day. My big accomplishment was writing and sending off my Sunday postcard.

IMAXES

On the way to the Saturday game:

Dandelions peeking forth in the cooler weather; violet four o'clocks in bloom before noon; the spiny seed balls of the angel trumpets; orange canna lilies like a torch in flame; golden Heidi and her bike; the breeze in my face.

Below the campanile:

Pine cones, pine needles; the jangle of the bells, the toccata; the quiet of the walnut grove; the movement of children; the brown-red and grey of scaled pine bark; the orange-red concrete blocks.

██████ 64º where I am! Cool .
██████ 75º in Gabarone, Botswana at night.
██████ 61º in Tokyo, Japan in the morning.
██████ 61º in Cusco, El Perú.
██████ 57º in Malmö, Sweden.
██████ 46º in Christchurch, New Zealand in the morning.


DEPORTES

Fútbol americano

The football game was good. The weather was excellent: around 80º, clear and breezy. The Jayhawks lost 18-21, mostly because they couldn't get into the endzone. Too bad. They have lost 3 close games now. This one was winable.

Class? The A&M fans were awesome. The K.U. fans? Hmmmm. Up in the cheap seats I wasn't impressed. There isn't supposed to be any open cans. But the group in front of me sat there with their beer bong! They did get caught once ... and had to pour it out; but, they were back in business in a very short time. (If they were homeless and downtown they would have been issued a ticket and gone to jail, but up on the hill it is a different and privileged world.)

For part of the game two different groups in front of me just stood and chatted. I do not know why they even bothered coming if they weren't interested in watching. They young 'ladies' seemed to have about as much brains and attention span of ostriches on crack. The young 'men' weren't much better.

On the other hand, the two to four year old crowd had fun climbing in the crabapple tree. One sweet girl even picked a red one and gave it to me. I put it in my pocket. Some memories are worth keeping.

The less said about da Bills da bedda ... How 'bout dem Bears?

O QUE LEIO

Up to page 134 in "The Waves'. Virginia Woolf uses lyrical passages to divide the book into segments. The metaphors of the moth, the waves, the sun are used thoughout. At this point the day is past noon and the characters are about 30 and becoming stuck in their ruts, Susan, Lewis and Neville are the worse in this respect. Rhoda I'm not sure about. Bernard still goes on in his ecstatic ways and Jinny flits like a butterfly. 100 pages to go. I'm reading slow.

Cannot stay awake in the afternoons . Finally finished 'The Road to Hiroshima' by Kaminsky. Very good read that evokes some of the horrors of August 1945.

POESIA

October Datura

Green globes
spiny seedballs
after the death of angel
trumpets, fruit formed from the night's white
fragrance. [163.382a]

Come November

What worms
crawl into cracks
or munch through the mulch?
Who will die and be consumed ere
winter? [163.382b]

CITA DE HOXE

"Quenching the silver-grey flickering moth-wing quiver of words with the green spurt of my eyes"

Susan, in The Waves, Virginia Woolf