I'm listening to people talk in the library, and even though their voices are too low to make out the words, it's a little gravel in the background. Overcast today, just perfect for photographing the spring bouquets that no one gathers because we are so startled again to see flowers outside. Overcast is pretty good…


Sunrise, as reflected in the mansard roof's windows, is the most glorious part of these winter days. I don't want to finish reading the Divine Comedy--enjoying paradise! So I've set it aside and picked up Wolfram von Eschenbach's Parzival, another journey that will take me a while.


Dreaming about summer. Every day is like this---a crossing made of stones, a river bounded by stones, and a couple of caves hewn in stones. Dante Alighieri was inspired in this gorge, and I've been reading the Divine Comedy, slowly and aloud, since visiting it last summer. Poetry offers this bridge every time.


I live here now, the place Edward Hopper grew up and painted in his realism. On the Friends of the Nyacks walking tour yesterday, we caught sight of it, the slight shift between the real thing and the painting---inspiration's mark. It's not in the photo, you'll have to imagine in the white sails...