Wind shift

After three days of blowing to the east, the wind sock is headed west and the pinwheel's spinning. It's a blustery-but-not-quite-as-cold-as-before Sunday. The Craggy Mountains show white tops as I drive down Jupiter Road to Holcombe Branch. The song I sing is "Didn't he ramble?" The temperature is supposed to be 61 by Thursday.

Eternity

Please squint as you view this, see it as you would normally, driving distractedly by on your usual morning route, at 45 mph. It's more mysterious and fun that way.
But even with the sub-text, it' still mysterious.

Valentines

One of my blog muses began simply and has become, while still as interesting both verbally and visually, more intricate and extensive over the past years. Images especially, I was thinking, have become increasingly abstract and even edgy. Meanwhile, mine are icons of a romantic ideal of life. Maybe it's simply different sensibilities, but maybe the one is a better way to face life, less blind-eyed. But on Valentine's Day (late) it's fine to show lovely things.

The Valentines pictured above span six decades, more or less.

When you send a Valentine,

That's the time for fun;

Stick it underneath the door

And run, run, run.

That one's so satisfying to say. Here's another, a brief quotation from something still under copyright, Father Fox's Pennyrhymes, by Clyde and Wendy Watson:

Country Bumpkin

Pick a pumpkin

Put it in your heart:

For little Jenny

Half-a-penny

Valentine sweetheart.

Also from that lovely book is this, intended for the summer fair in its cycle of seasons, but appropriate for this day as well:

Huckleberry, gooseberry, raspberry pie

All sweetest things one cannot buy.

Peppermint candies are six for a penny,

But true love & kisses, one cannot buy any.

"Love's a sweet no money can buy." ~ Father Fox

[Ooohhhnnnhhh nnnnrrhhhhsnfsnfsnffsnffhrnffhehehe...]

~~~ "The past is a different country. They do things differently there."

Quick quiz: who do you hear saying these words, in a distinct intonation? Having seen, once, and then again, and again, Scorsese's movie of The Age of Innocence, how can I not forever after and always hear these words in Michele Pfieffer's voice?

But now there's a new voice on the block:

[Oh oh oh...stop for a gasp of breath [nnh nnh nnh], [wipe tears from eyes, blow nose] You know, I hope, about the "My Dinner With Andre" action figures, and the Remains of the Day lunchbox, (you do, don't you? I hope so... ) -- but do you know about the "Age of Innocence" Board Book? Go look -- it's on LibraryThing. Once you get there, you'll have to drill down a bit -- search for the book, then look at the variant editions and their tags. I'm not saying that you'll SEE the board book edition, but you'll see it listed. Maybe we can find it at wonderful Powells.

Salt Too

Google will one day have more of my life in its vaults than I care to think about. Mainly, I don't really care, as long as I retain copyright. I have nothing to hide that I'd ever put on here, and they're welcome to mine my data, I guess. I'll mind it, and they might mine it. Mostly I trust them because they're smart West Coast guys who love to innovate. Who cares that Amazon sells socks and electronics and is Soooo Big? It had good Pacific grass roots.
I should say something more meaningful to go with my lovely pictures, but they're so fine they need not my words.

I just read Neil Gaiman's short novel Coraline. It's a fresh, unique story with old touches, old fears and motifs. I also read a blog account of a talk given by Phillip Pullman recently. It wasn't the transcript, but a blow-by-blow from an attentive listener. The name of the talk was "Poco a poco: the Fundamental Particles of Narrative." (See? I just switched over to Google in another window and checked on the title, a quick blog search. Would would let me do this if it weren't for Google?) I'd print the link to the blog post but someone just said that netiquette prohibits hot links on blogs. I thought in some quarter, anyway, hot links were a major point of blogs.
The pictures were taken at a favorite little cove along Ocean Drive in Newport, my original home town.