Journal du Jour
It’s odd to feel rich.
But the sun makes it so, for there’s not a millionaire in southern California with so much beauty in front of him right now.
My wife’s landscaping skills have borne a rich harvest, a sweet profusion of yellows and purples beside a fountain constantly replenishing itself under a sunsational sky with a rock star sun, the sky a tingle blue, the tangle of greens around a grotto of stones, the water cascading from level to level to level. The wind hits the poplars and they glint a thousand times, their leaves signatories of glories, white-hot suitors of surrounding greens.
The ash looks like a stevedore, soliciting and shapely, reminding me of Hillerich & Bradsby’s finest. The cornflowers are bound with string to keep them from straying wildly. They look stiff, like wallflowers at a party. But then the shell shock of sun on skin and leaf and light lit of radiance falls from the sky on them and me and they look so...happy. If nature is an elaborate parable then what does it say that so many completely different environments shed so much beauty? Rain forests and deserts, mountains and plains – all unquenchably beautiful.