Idling

Now, I'm a confirmed coffee drinker and hate tea. Tea makes me feel ill. But in Tom Hodgkinson's wonderful book How to Be Idle (HarperCollins, 2005, in its first U.S. edition), tea is praised as the civilized drink for people who desire to savor life and eschew the frenetic pace of post-industrial life, which he sees as fueled by coffee. Here is a portion of a 16th century Chinese poem by Hsu Ts'eshu (there's suposed to be an umlaut or the Chinese equivalent on the first "u"), as quoted by Hodgkinson:

Proper Moments for Drinking Tea

When one's heart and hands are idle...

Tired after reading poetry...

Engaged in conversation deep at night...

Before a bright window and a clean desk...

When the day is clear and the breeze is mild...

On a day of light showers...

In a painted boat near a small wooden bridge...

In a forest with tall bamboos...

In a pavilion overlooking lotus flowers on a summer day...

In a quiet, secluded temple...

Near famous springs and quaint rocks....

My picture is from a local Middle Eastern restaurant, where more coffee is consumed than tea, but it suggests a similar inclination for relaxing, drinking, and conversing. And here's another local spot for idling:

Sitting Outdoors

On a lovely fall afternoon I'm lucky to be able to sit in my front yard. This is the first weekend in a month that I've been home, with no family or work engagements. Some people spend their weekends at that patriotic American activity called "shopping." I try to avoid it as much as possible. Maybe I should be at Home Depot, buying things to imrpove my house, but right now I'd rather enjoy my house, my yard, the sky.

Over the years at my job most of my favorite people have moved on. One was a radiant man, a music teacher who loved to spend a weekend when he could in Buddhist meditation, sitting for the weekend. He left this job because it was too hectic for him and his wife. I still miss Ramon. He was an energetic and enthusiastic teacher who loved his work but prefered a wider margin to his life, like Thoreau.

I've just started to read a new book, "How to Be Idle." More of this later.

Disclaimer: I read the newspapers and listen to npr daily and am well aware of the luxury we have living in relative comfort in this country. I realize that thinking about being idle and sitting and looking at the sky are great luxuries which a lot of the world can't enjoy. This is one of life's great puzzles. Shouldn't we be giving up all we have and going out to right the world's wrongs? Yes, but... most of us don't. So I live with the discomfort and the ambivalence of being a comfortable American, and I sit and watch the bees come to my flowers. It beats shopping.

Seed Packets

I can't find the packet for the Love-in-a-Puff (Cardiospermum haliacabam), aka Balloon vine or Heartseed, but these are the packets of the climbing vine seeds I planted this year. In the lower right corner is the flowering spinach, which so far is only about six inches high, with thick leathery (edible) leaves. Maybe it will flower before frost, but it doesn't seem likely. There was snow on Mount Mitchell last night. That's over 6000 feet above sea level, and the city of Asheville is only about 2200, but winter's coming. The boys from the Bahamas and Jamaica are freezing. In fact, they started wearing winter gear as soon as daytime temperatures got down to 60. One of the Jamaican boys has a Brown sweatshirt, because his sister is in her second year there. "Does she like it?" "She hates it." "Why? Because it's too cold?" "Yes. "Do you think you might go to Brown?" "No!"

Flowering Vines

No killing frost yet, so my climbing vines are still flowering. I've been watching some big fat buds, hoping for another moonflower. Last evening before dark, two buds began to open, showing blue. Here are the two heavenly blues this morning.

The Love-in-a-Puff (can't find the packet and don't remember its scientific name) is a climbing vine with intricately-cut leaves, delicate white flowers, and pale green inflated pods the size of grapes. It's one of my favorites, though it's showy only to a close-up observer:

The translucency of the globes doesn't show up well. Maybe a late afternoon picture with the sun from the west will do this vine justice. I'll try later in the day.

Small Personal Tragedy Department

The ocean and the rain killed my camera, unless Ball Photo can work a miracle. There will be no pictures of boys in the ocean, nor can I document the gentrification of charming little Buckingham Ct. until I have a working camera. This is very sad, though on the larger scale it's piffle before the wind, it's a puff of dried sea foam scuttering down the beach.

The above is neither the beach nor Buckingham Ct., but rather a lovely house in the neighborhood that's for sale for $465,500. The ad calls it a "Mediterranean bungalow," but I'd call it Craftsman style. It's near some stucco Spanish-style houses, but there's nothing Mediterranean about this one.

Coming sometime: what's happening to Buckingham Court. Stay posted.