May. Heat. Music.May in Tucson: saguaros coming into bloom, schoolkids giddy--only ten class-days left...And tomorrow is supposed to be our first 100-degree day. (Click here if you want weather trivia, such as the average first day of 100-degree-heat in Tucson, etc. etc...)======================An old friend sent me a link from NPR's daily feature "The Writer's Almanac," which features a daily poem:MUSICAnne PorterWhen I was a childI once sat sobbing on the floorBeside my mother's pianoAs she played and sangFor there was in her singingA shy yet solemn gloryMy smallness could not holdAnd when I was askedWhy I was cryingI had no words for itI only shook my headAnd went on cryingWhy is it that musicAt its most beautifulOpens a wound in usAn ache a desolationDeep as a homesicknessFor some far-offAnd half-forgotten countryI've never understoodWhy this is soBut there's an ancient legendFrom the other side of the worldThat gives away the secretOf this mysterious sorrowFor centuries on centuriesWe have been wanderingBut we were made for ParadiseAs deer for the forestAnd when music comes to usWith its heavenly beautyIt brings us desolationFor when we hear itWe half rememberThat lost native countryWe dimly remember the fieldsTheir fragrant windswept cloverThe birdsongs in the orchardsThe wild white violets in the mossBy the transparent streamsAnd shining at the heart of itIs the longed-for beautyOf the One who waits for usWho will always wait for usIn those radiant meadowsYet also came to live with usAnd wanders where we wander. "Music" by Anne Porter from Living Things: Collected Poems. © Steerforth Press, 2006===========================I've just recently taken the time to (finally) do some serious listening to some Mahler.(Gotta love the public library's cd collection...)I'm one of those loves-Brahms-hates-Wagner people.But I'd never really become familiar with Mahler.Huge--Brahms' 'successor' in late 19th-century music...Why didn't someone insist earlier that I listen to his stuff?Then again, maybe I'm just 'ready' for it now...================================...came across this photo from last summer in Québec:...can't resist calling this public art installation "The Riding on the Wall."
(I don't know if it even had a title... And speaking of 'writing on the wall,' I'm still waiting for mine, meaning that I'm still in next-year's-job -limbo...)
Last week I finally did bike to work--light early enough to do so comfortably...but now with the sudden arrival of 100-degree afternoons, not so tempting...
But this past Saturday did resurrect last year's routine of early morning bike-rides to and through Saguaro National Park East...
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And so the calendar still says 'spring,' although Tucson's thermometer is shouting 'summer.'
The nostalgia of seasonal change in places past:
Ahh, spring...such a lovely time in Seattle:
(The Japanese garden in the Washington Park Arboretum)It's been almost two years now, that we've been living in Tucson. Loving the nearby mountains and the Sonoran desert landscape...but still missing the sunnier moments of the green green Northwest...