all photographs by Mario Giacomelli
It's been raining for two days. From Paris my friend Daniel sent me some beautiful music by Ray LaMontagne, which seems to fit the mood these last two days. I've been listening to one of the songs in particular, called "Winter Birds," with these lines:
The stream can't contain such the withering rain,
And from the pasture the fence it is leaning away
The clouds crack and growl
Like some great cat on the prowl
Crying out, "I am, I am" over and over again
The winter birds have gone back again
Here the sprightly chickadee, gone now is the willow wren
In passing greet each other as if old, old friends
And to the voiceless trees it is their own they will lend...
Though all these things will change the memories will remain
As green to gold and gold to brown
The leaves will fall to feed the ground
And in their falling make no sound
Oh my lady, lady, I am loving you now
All the verses in the song speak of changes and the transformation wrought by time, and the need to love the here and now. Just the song for a winter day such as today.
It's hard to believe that it's winter here. The grapefruit and orange trees are laden with fruits and the camellias are flushed with flowers. Compared to New York, where everything is still buried under the snow, such abundance seems almost miraculous. I spent a blissful hour in the garden alone.