dusk
Dear Ciara,
I’m writing this at dusk, outstretched on the daybed, watching the rainbow lorikeets sore across the fading yellow sky. This a daily ritual for them—at dusk, a large flock gathers to take on a tree a few streets back from our house. They devour the nectar from the tree’s flowers for about an hour before saying goodbye and agreeing to meet up again the following evening. Such humorous creatures, they are.
The Organist has lit an incense stick for me and is filling the background of my rest with music from César Frank. He recently found some of Frank’s music at the church op-shop, including a version of Panis Angelicus for sopranos and tenors. He says it’s a bit too easy for our choir, but I quite like it. It transports me to another place and time: the cobbled streets of somewhere European, dandelions growing out to cracks in the road.
I gardened quite a lot today. Took out some of the old, withered tomato plants and replaced them with fresh seedlings I’ve been growing. I managed to collect a bowlful of fruit from the old plants, most of it still green, but I don’t mind. I use the green fruits for green curries. Speaking of which, I also gave my Thai basil plants a trim because they are growing utterly out of control. A couple of them are throwing purple flowers that remind me of the fascinators women wear at the races.
I also finally set up a garden bed out the back, filling it with tomatoes, sweet potato and sunflowers. I’m not sure why I did it, given we will likely be moving in the next few months. But I told my landlord I’d do it and I am a man (normally) of my word. Anyway, I can’t keep writing-I am off to pick some friends up from the airport.
Of course, the piece of music for today is:
Panis Angelicus — César Frank
Love,
*The Gardener