There are times when I'm scrolling through IG that I worry that Clio is missing out.
It's true that she has access to a small, urban garden in which the campanulas are in bloom, but she's not riding through a vast wilderness perched on the bow of a kayak, like some cats, or riding comfortably in a crate on the back of a bike zipping through Singapore, like other cats. I spoke to Clio about these concerns, and she answered my questions with clarity.
'I do not want these things that you have described.' -- Clio
Feeling nostalgic for one of my earlier obsessions, I took a picture of a nearby apartment building that I used to constantly photograph.
We haven't had the best luck with our clematis, but this week, we were graced with a flower.
On Thursday night, I went to the opera to see Orfeo ed Euridice, the baroque masterpiece by Christoph Willibald Gluck.
In Gluck's version, Orfeo looks back and sends Euridice back to the Land of the Dead, but -- to please the rich people who commissioned the opera -- Gluck was forced to have a happy ending, which means that after Orfeo spends a few minutes mourning the loss of his lover, Amore (personified as a character) tells Orfeo that he has suffered enough, after which Euridice is delivered back to him so that they can return to the Land of the Living. It's a ridiculous ending, but it's deftly handled in this production, with just the right amount of humor and lots of mesmerizing dancing.
It was a little bittersweet watching the opera, knowing that Stephen will soon be retiring (that's the sweet part) but that I will have fewer opportunities to see masterpieces like the one I had just witnessed.
But it was also nice to think about the fact that, had I not met Stephen, I almost certainly would not have been exposed to the magic of opera, which has certainly changed me for the better.
On Friday afternoon, we accompanied some friends to the gardens at Wave Hill, which represents a different kind of opera.
It was a perfect-weather day, the kind of day that I'm sure I'll be longing for in a few weeks, when the temperatures and humidity return to catastrophic levels.
As always, I was hypnotized by the succulents and cacti.
And the alpine troughs, with their tiny, vivid landscapes.
The conifers shimmered with new growth.
The pond, where we spotted a sunbathing turtle (not pictured, to protect their privacy), was serene.
Walking through the grounds, I could almost hear the music from the previous night.
The dancers had merely been replaced by flowers.
The principals replaced by trees.
Comments