Yesterday was full of delights, some of them possible because we've moved to our new house.
I woke up early, got some writing done, and thought, hey, I could walk to the beach and get there just in time for sunrise. And this time, I could take the camera.
And that's what I did. I sat on a bench and snapped picture after picture. Ah, the joys of digital cameras (I almost typed "digital film").
On the way back, I took this shot of my street, from across the Intracoastal. If you could see up five blocks, you'd see my house. This shot gives you an idea of how wide the street is, with plenty of on-street (not on-swale or in-my-yard) parking for visitors. It gives you a sense of the majesty that mature palms can give a street.
I also took a shot of several doors/houses decorated for autumn/Halloween. I felt odd taking shots of people's houses. Would they mind? Would they feel I was invading their privacy? Or would they feel proud of the fact that they'd created such an appealing display that I stopped to take a picture?
I love the tropical setting with the autumnal touches captured in the photo above. I love that the colors of the house are matched by the wreath, by the tropical foliage. I love the jack-o-lantern smiling at us (look to the left of the door).
I came home, changed into exercise clothes, and went to spin class, which was great. I came home, payed some bills, sat in the sun, swam in the pool, and helped my spouse with our cottage project.
And then it was time for the evening delight: a trip the other direction down the street, to the ArtsPark for Celebrate Italy! We packed a picnic and went to join our friends.
We had a brief meeting of the new baby born to one couple back in June. But then the music got to be too much, and her parents had to take her home. Happily, we still had a good size group spread out on the lawn. We were near this glass blowing studio:
The main focus of these periodic events at the ArtsPark is the music. The featured group, Canzoniere Grecanico Salentino, was wonderful. At times they sounded Celtic and/or Appalachian. After all, they played some of those instruments that are so central to that music: the violin and the mandolin. There was an instrument that looked like a bagpipe. There were drums and huge tambourines. There was an accordion.
And there was a woman who came onto the stage periodically to dance a tarantella. Wonderful!
The disadvantage to these events is the fact that it's hard to talk. I'm seeing people whom I don't get to see very often, some of them, and it's hard to fully reconnect in this venue.
Happily, there will be other events, many of them quieter, which will give a chance to reconnect. I was able to simply relax and let the music wash around me while marveling at the fact that I sat under calm skies in a sleeveless shirt in early October.
And then we walked home, eight blocks or so, and I soaked my feet in the pool while my spouse swam. And then I sank into bed and into a satisfied sleep.
A poet, a scholar, an administrator, a wanna-be mystic--always wrestling with the temptation to run away to join an intentional community--but would it be contemplative? social justice oriented? creative? in the mountains? in the inner city?--may as well stay planted and wrestle with these tensions and contradictions here, at the edge of America.