Sunday, January 9, 2011

I Can't Think of a Song About Sunday

There are probably two dozen of them that I actually know some of the words to but I can't think of a single one to use a line of for the title of this post. Oh well, you'll have to dream up your own background music. Right now I'm sitting in a shaft of sunshine and in my imagination I'm driving across Bonaire on the road that goes from Lagun to the roundabout by Sand Dollar. It's a narrow straight road along a stinky, swampy area on one side and an industrial/warehouse district on the other, but as you crest a little rise you can see the ocean. Ahh. It's a skinny little island to begin with and that road crosses the skinniest place. I'd love to be driving back from Rincon right now, maybe after a dive at Old Blue or Karpata. Old Blue, it has an easier entry, no slippery concrete slab to inch across in your heavy dive gear. I'm not hearing any music in my head, just the constant trade winds and the sound of the pickup tires on the hot asphalt. Anyway, that's what's in my imagination while I sit here in freezing Green Bay where it's +8 without wind chill. Where are you?

January 8--Louis Comfort Tiffany, Window. Mr. Louis stood in the workroom with his sleeves rolled up pinning the piece of paper to the table. Mario stood back watching his boss, a confused look on his face. "We aren't making a plant or a scene," Mr. Louis said, "with this we're making a feeling." The younger man's intense blue eyes burned as he began pulling glass out of the cubbyholes behind the work table. "Just like the wisteria and leaves of that last lampshade, I want this to flow, to move like wind ripples on a lake or a leaf floating down a stream." Mario rubbed his roughened hands together and squinted trying to envision the feeling that his patron was talking about. He nodded once, twice, and took up his glass tools. Mr. Louis had pulled out blue and clear glass, but also gold and purple. Mario had never seen a purple stream but he set to work making curves, building a swirl, working alongside Mr. Louis far past the end of the day.

I wasn't sure what would come from that detail of stained glass window but I like it. Spend your Sunday well.

1 comment:

Aunt B said...

OK, it isn't eight degrees outside but it's snowing in Wilmington! Wintertime -- whether we want it or not! So no matter where you and I are at the moment, it's cold!