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Can only remember bits and pieces of my odd dream…
Some kind of communal living situation. We had beds all crammed in together, assigned to each group.
There were cats. And kittens.
I was somehow responsible for a large group.
I was trying to give away a bunch of newborn kittens, but various individuals among the people I was responsible for kept wheedling, Oh! Can I keep a kitten? and somehow I had ended up with 20 cats.
Twenty cats are too many, I thought.
I was watching the mother cat, and I realized she was nursing. Except she was nursing many of the older cats as well; they’d shoved the kittens out of the way.
Two of Barbara Angell’s sisters had claimed a bed right next to mine.
But I realized I had signed a treaty giving that bed to Flavia.
So, I was anxiously asking Flavia, Do you mind…? It’s just for now. I’ll make them move tomorrow…
###
Some day, I’m going to figure out why I dream about cats so often.
Obviously, cats have some deep symbolic meaning.
I already know why I dream about Barbara Angell so often.
It’s the confluence of her name and the fact that she loves me unconditionally.
And always will.
###
Anyway, yesterday, I worked productively throughout the morning.
(I am now two days behind the Master Production Schedule, but then I always set unrealistic goals for myself.)
In the mid-afternoon, I toddled over to the garden to water.
The lower plot (10 days after planting):
The upper plot (two days after planting):
I’m doing the flower swathe as a pollinator garden since the upper garden is very near the beehives. Most of the flowers there now are perennials I planted last year. But I seeded a bunch of annuals.
The overview:
After I watered, I tromped through the Vanderbilt park grounds for a few hours.
It appears I may have missed tree tulip time this year. There were a bunch of tree tulips underfoot on the path through the woods near the river, but very few of them on the actual trees:
For whatever reason, I just love tree tulips! And I’ve never been able to figure out why there are so many fallen tree tulip petals on the path near the river since so far as I can tell, none of the trees in those particular woods are tulip poplars.
Various ornamental horse chestnuts were in full bloom:
When I was a little girl, I used to play with horse chestnut flowers.
Make ballerina costumes for sticks.
Stage stick ballets.
Horse chestnuts lined the streets of Manhattan and Brooklyn in those days.
Then some kind of blight came and killed off all the horse chestnuts in the City.
One of the great pleasures of living in the Hudson Valley is meeting up with these trees again.
###
There is always that one mysterious glimpse of the House itself through the deep woods:
A seasonal differentiator!
In the autumn and winter, the House is quite visible.
###
Meanwhile yesterday, the world grew more horrifying.
As it does every day.
I had to keep reminding myself: You chose to be here.
Well.
“I” didn’t choose to be here.
At least not in the way that “I” is generally defined.
Some rarified and egoless manifestation of the compound intelligence that decided to use me as the transcendental equivalent of a pronoun chose to be here.
Sitting around in that streaky-windowed, discount travel office in Bardo!
The travel agent’s spiel went something like this: You know what’s the Big Fun? Visiting the 21st century in that parallel universe where the dinosaurs get wiped out in the Cretaceous is the Big Fun!
I’m here to tell you that the discount travel agents in Bardo are fuckin’ liars.
Though the tree tulips and horse chestnuts are nice.
Some kind of communal living situation. We had beds all crammed in together, assigned to each group.
There were cats. And kittens.
I was somehow responsible for a large group.
I was trying to give away a bunch of newborn kittens, but various individuals among the people I was responsible for kept wheedling, Oh! Can I keep a kitten? and somehow I had ended up with 20 cats.
Twenty cats are too many, I thought.
I was watching the mother cat, and I realized she was nursing. Except she was nursing many of the older cats as well; they’d shoved the kittens out of the way.
Two of Barbara Angell’s sisters had claimed a bed right next to mine.
But I realized I had signed a treaty giving that bed to Flavia.
So, I was anxiously asking Flavia, Do you mind…? It’s just for now. I’ll make them move tomorrow…
###
Some day, I’m going to figure out why I dream about cats so often.
Obviously, cats have some deep symbolic meaning.
I already know why I dream about Barbara Angell so often.
It’s the confluence of her name and the fact that she loves me unconditionally.
And always will.
###
Anyway, yesterday, I worked productively throughout the morning.
(I am now two days behind the Master Production Schedule, but then I always set unrealistic goals for myself.)
In the mid-afternoon, I toddled over to the garden to water.
The lower plot (10 days after planting):
The upper plot (two days after planting):
I’m doing the flower swathe as a pollinator garden since the upper garden is very near the beehives. Most of the flowers there now are perennials I planted last year. But I seeded a bunch of annuals.
The overview:
After I watered, I tromped through the Vanderbilt park grounds for a few hours.
It appears I may have missed tree tulip time this year. There were a bunch of tree tulips underfoot on the path through the woods near the river, but very few of them on the actual trees:
For whatever reason, I just love tree tulips! And I’ve never been able to figure out why there are so many fallen tree tulip petals on the path near the river since so far as I can tell, none of the trees in those particular woods are tulip poplars.
Various ornamental horse chestnuts were in full bloom:
When I was a little girl, I used to play with horse chestnut flowers.
Make ballerina costumes for sticks.
Stage stick ballets.
Horse chestnuts lined the streets of Manhattan and Brooklyn in those days.
Then some kind of blight came and killed off all the horse chestnuts in the City.
One of the great pleasures of living in the Hudson Valley is meeting up with these trees again.
###
There is always that one mysterious glimpse of the House itself through the deep woods:
A seasonal differentiator!
In the autumn and winter, the House is quite visible.
###
Meanwhile yesterday, the world grew more horrifying.
As it does every day.
I had to keep reminding myself: You chose to be here.
Well.
“I” didn’t choose to be here.
At least not in the way that “I” is generally defined.
Some rarified and egoless manifestation of the compound intelligence that decided to use me as the transcendental equivalent of a pronoun chose to be here.
Sitting around in that streaky-windowed, discount travel office in Bardo!
The travel agent’s spiel went something like this: You know what’s the Big Fun? Visiting the 21st century in that parallel universe where the dinosaurs get wiped out in the Cretaceous is the Big Fun!
I’m here to tell you that the discount travel agents in Bardo are fuckin’ liars.
Though the tree tulips and horse chestnuts are nice.
