Shadowmask, photo & all text © Irene O’Garden, 2013
Sprucing up for a charity garden tour this weekend. Projects postponed resurrect with the peonies. Workers are buzzing about like our prancing polka-dot terrier Bee. Electricians hardwire outdoor fixtures we sought for 15 years; handyfolk screw shiny new black strap-hinges on potting-shed doors. Planting, pruning, mulching. A sand, a prime, a coat of paint. In between specs and requests, I must gently disincline the finches from nesting in the awning, coax two panicked Carolina wrens out of my kitchen, answer the jingling phone, email my husband the file he needs in LA. Can I really post this week?
Yes, for the arresting, quiet moment yesterday morning.
While our second floor windows have shutters, for reasons unknown our first floor never did. Sprucing up called for them. Up they went Monday. Yesterday, coffee mug warming my knuckles, I stepped out the door into sunrise at play.
Just a simple morning image, just another mask dawn dons, these multiplying shadow-moebas, this smattering of scattered shadows flattering the wall and shutters. But the eye never tires of light’s unceasing joy in expressing herself.
The sun greets our wall every morning, but sprucing up makes us sit up and take notice.
Incidentally, thinking about light this week, my husband told me scientists are hard at work trying to create travel that’s faster than light. I think it’s a great idea, except it will always be dark when you get there…